tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-89337353154811034392024-03-21T18:56:20.115-04:00Clark Infested WatersThe Clark Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737995755473501422noreply@blogger.comBlogger232125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8933735315481103439.post-52267612395238056372014-04-12T08:10:00.002-04:002014-04-12T08:10:16.192-04:00Lunchbox Surprises<div style="text-align: center;">
It's been months...maybe a year...since my last post, and I have a scribbled list on a torn half sheet of paper of all of the memories I still need to find time to document. </div>
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But, today, I had to sneak away to capture the napkin I pulled from Kate's lunchbox. </div>
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It's moments like these that I fall in love all over again. I hope she knows what a wonderful Daddy she has!</div>
The Clark Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737995755473501422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8933735315481103439.post-37750997467613480252013-05-05T16:09:00.000-04:002013-05-07T22:07:53.509-04:00Afternoons with GrandmaI have shared my <a href="http://www.clarkinfestedwaters.blogspot.com/2010/03/roots-in-boots.html" target="_blank">memories</a> of weekends with my <a href="http://www.clarkinfestedwaters.blogspot.com/2011/12/one-day-in-december.html" target="_blank">Grandma</a> before, and have always felt fortunate that a country boy met a city girl and allowed their kids to have, in my opinion, what was "the best of both worlds". A childhood filled with Big City days, and at least one weekend a month where I could get dirty at the Farm. The combination of both taught me many life lessons for which I am grateful. <br />
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Those weekends at the Farm usually meant spending the days with my Grandma. Us girls always had plenty of work to do, which usually involved picking eggs, feeding the farm animals, picking vegetables, or making cookies- the cookie baking being a young girls treat! We would sit on the porch swing, enjoy our cookies, and watch the trucks go by on the highway. <br />
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During those weekends on the Farm, Grandma would pass the time by telling stories. Her stories were always about family, made me laugh, and taught me life lessons. Although, the life lessons were not realized until many years later. <br />
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As a young Mother, she raised three children and the family made a living selling cotton. The days she has told me stories about started at sunrise and ended with her as one of the last to lie her head on the pillow at night. The days were spent cooking meals, taking care of children, working the cotton fields - she did it all. The stories did not involve big houses, fancy clothes, sports, or pizza nights. Rather, they were more simple, and told of family and friends gathering on Friday nights for dominoes and good company. I know stories of her little ones being sick, her beaten black and blue by a Ram, and enduring many hot summer days working under the Texas sun. Through all her stories, I have never heard her complain. Stories describe life, and life is what you make it. <br />
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As an adult, her stories still make me laugh, smile, and more importantly, admire her wisdom and strength. This weekend, I visited Grandma for a different reason - she is ill. Our roles were reversed these last few days with me sitting at her bedside, holding her hand, and telling her stories. For the record, I am not nearly as good of a story teller. As we sat and I talked, again I found myself admiring her strength and her wisdom. Even without many words, her eyes tell a hundred stories. My Grandma is one of the strongest women I know. A woman that I will one day tell my own stories about. A woman I am proud to call Grandma. <br />
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The Clark Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737995755473501422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8933735315481103439.post-46270769662962177632013-03-06T09:58:00.004-05:002013-03-06T09:58:55.867-05:00Happy AnniversaryA friend of mine shared a blogger article today, <a href="http://www.danoah.com/2012/10/16-ways-i-blew-my-marriage.html" target="_blank">16 ways I blew my marriage</a>. It's a short read listing the little things that we as couples may take for granted in relationships. <br />
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Today, we celebrate our 9th wedding Anniversary. Sure it is nostalgic to look back through pictures, listen to our wedding disc, or talk about how fast the last ten years have passed and how much has changed in our lives. But, like age, I feel today our Anniversary year is just a number. We could be celebrating 9, 19, or 29, and I know I would still be as much in-love with you, as proud of you, and as confident in our relationship as ever. <br />
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Last year, I made a quick list of a <a href="http://www.clarkinfestedwaters.blogspot.com/2012_03_01_archive.html" target="_blank">few things I love about you</a>- and they still hold true. <br />
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This year, I find myself looking at this bloggers list, and reflecting on how blessed we are. When we packed our things and moved across the country all those years ago, how hard it must have been for you to watch me cry when we drove East over the California state line. We can laugh about it now, but we didn't know what the future would hold. We were taking a leap of faith, bonded by rings, and all we had to get through each day was each other. In hind sight, this was probably one of the best things that ever happened to us. <br />
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Maybe it's because I read this article on a day like today, the day we celebrate our wedding Anniversary. Maybe it's because we are on the backend of a relaxing and truly enjoyable weekend away..just the two of us. But, I am no longer weary of what the future will hold. I am just coasting along relying on what I do know: <br />
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<li>That road trips and long walks with you are my absolute, hands down, favorite favorite!</li>
<li>While I do like to hold hands, just watching you take the seat next to me or placing your hand on my shoulder in a crowded room warms my heart. </li>
<li>I never sleep as good as I do with you lying beside me (except on high-volume snoring nights).</li>
<li>No matter what brings me stress, whether it is what to wear or how to approach a work situation, you give my dilemmas the same amount of time, attention, and sarcasm. </li>
<li>Beauty to you has never been defined by a size or a weight. You think I am beautiful. </li>
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There is no one else in this world I trust more than you. I am so thankful to call you my best friend and my husband. <br />
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I cherish every day with you, and look forward to a lifetime of love, laughter, and happiness. <br />
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The Clark Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737995755473501422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8933735315481103439.post-1994262792761778992012-12-28T09:46:00.005-05:002012-12-28T09:53:29.594-05:002012: A Year of Live Music<div style="text-align: center;">
Joe and I have always loved live music. Before kids, it seemed like we were always finding some small San Diego dive (Belly Up, Casbah, even the Del Mar Fairgrounds) to watch a band play. But since becoming parents, the outings have been less frequent. This year, we vowed to get out to live shows more. A recap...</div>
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Robert Earl Keen at Rams Head in Annapolis.<br />
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David Cook at House of Blues Chicago. </div>
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Blue Grass Festival at the Fiddlers Convention in Brogue, PA. </div>
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Zan Brown Band at Merriweather Pavilion in Baltimore.</div>
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Bruce Springstein at Fenway Park in Boston. </div>
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Luke Bryan at York Fairgrounds.</div>
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Farm Aid at Hershey. Jack Johnson, Dave Matthews, Kenny Chesney, Grace Potter, and others. </div>
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Dave Matthews at Baltimore Arena. </div>
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We ended up selling tickets to Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, VirginFest and Ben Harper. </div>
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Still...All the venues, all our friends...always a good time! </div>
The Clark Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737995755473501422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8933735315481103439.post-10574668884189720842012-11-03T10:19:00.000-04:002012-12-28T10:20:03.949-05:00Sports Photos - these are the ones I will treasure<div style="text-align: center;">
So, this year the kids started officially playing sports. While the team pictures are cute, these are the ones I will treasure.</div>
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All dressed up and ready to play!</div>
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Batter up! </div>
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Conor, Daddy, and the trophy. So proud!</div>
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Playing the outfield takes a lot of patience. </div>
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In this picture, Katie is upside down next to the blonde little girl. If you look closely, you will see her pink and black cleats. Puts a whole new meaning to the phrase, "Get your head in the game". </div>
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Twirling her hair. </div>
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Taking a turn in the goal. </div>
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All this concentration is</div>
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Exhausting!</div>
The Clark Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737995755473501422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8933735315481103439.post-31153434901396136382012-08-01T10:42:00.000-04:002012-12-28T10:43:05.895-05:00Sisters<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQfCJypGb6S9xNjn3lVdvKFNAZeZYyk9PFQ7r5-HJNfA_OJNEkkQD-Pf-cWEFz3yBe7vZHCAmJSF78FyyCZtuoXW1hqbp-4P6QftLLttoIYa6dhe0s_FD3RpQOnwQd9fBpsuG7Q0dDkS75/s1600/sisters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQfCJypGb6S9xNjn3lVdvKFNAZeZYyk9PFQ7r5-HJNfA_OJNEkkQD-Pf-cWEFz3yBe7vZHCAmJSF78FyyCZtuoXW1hqbp-4P6QftLLttoIYa6dhe0s_FD3RpQOnwQd9fBpsuG7Q0dDkS75/s320/sisters.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Growing up, I always wondered what it would be like to have a sister. Don't get me wrong, my brother is irreplaceable, and one of my dearest friends. However, my Mimi was one of six, three girls and three boys. Watching her with her sisters at the family reunion this summer, I had to admire their bond, and wonder what it would be like to share clothes, makeup, or girlie secrets...</div>
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Here is a picture of my MiMi (far left) with her sisters (her twin in the middle). </div>
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As life would have it, I did receive a special gift after all...two very dear Sister-in-laws. While we don't share clothes or makeup, we have shared many laughs. </div>
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Love you two! I am so lucky to call you my sisters. </div>
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The Clark Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737995755473501422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8933735315481103439.post-13095636714928541462012-04-07T20:50:00.006-04:002012-04-07T21:18:44.417-04:00A letter to our Son on his fourth birthday<div>My dear Conor, my buddy, </div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><div>Tomorrow, Easter Sunday, you will turn four years old. To think back and remember all we have faced the <a href="http://www.clarkinfestedwaters.blogspot.com/2011/11/finding-your-voice.html">last four years</a>, I couldn't think of a more special day to celebrate your birthday. It seems so fitting, like a re-birth of sorts. Great things are ahead for you. </div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><div>This is the year you made the decision to give up your <a href="http://www.clarkinfestedwaters.blogspot.com/2011/08/woobies-are-hereditary.html">woobie</a>...woobs. Just like when you decided it was time to use the potty, you threw your blanket in the trash with such confidence. I am a "big boy," you declared! So sure, so proud of yourself, just as we were of you. </div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><div>I love your new found confidence in your speech, too. From the little stories you tell (that sometimes only I can understand), to how you now sing along to songs in the car, to how you spell your name. We are so proud of how hard you have worked over the last year, are proud of your progress, and excited about what the future holds. </div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><div>I love how you have no reservations. You push the limits, literally "dance like nobody's watching", and approach everything in life like their are no consequences. One day, you are going to have to remind me that this can be a good thing. You are my wild. </div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><div>I love how you throw your hands in the air, and yell, "I did it," after eating a meal, getting dressed, finishing a puzzle, or kicking the soccer ball. I hope you always recognize your accomplishments (big and small), even if one day this recognition is in silence.</div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><div>It is hard to believe four years have passed since we welcomed you into our family, and I couldn't imagine what our lives would have been like without you in it. We love you, Buddy. Always.</div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5728832801866815554" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9K_UVEVkKOJzBwSCAZ0j5gwCodBZjM4a6gZX3evIDUpIUosDDN2XgjDl7AOKGm29K0sw1ryboEAhgOkXutOFtPGCjulw4NNrHLK9CUZlddXXweNgyIjMoFkUNaRNQ7nGoLQgGTpduPYzR/s320/093.JPG" /><br /><br /><div>Happy Birthday, Son. </div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><div>Mom </div>The Clark Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737995755473501422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8933735315481103439.post-45279393715874723442012-03-08T11:20:00.013-05:002012-03-09T07:54:37.323-05:00Top 10 (ok 11) Reasons I love my husband<div><div>It's been almost four months since my last post, and I haven't forgotten about the intent of why I started this. Finding the time has just been difficult. So, I figured I needed to take a moment over lunch today to just make time. I'm gonna start with the most important event this week, and just backfill when I am able. So, bare with me. Sorry, Mom! The memories are coming!</div><div> </div><div>This week, Joe and I celebrate our eighth wedding anniversary. In reflection, I am one lucky gal. Just to make him blush (when he thought he was safe), here are my Top 10 favorite things about Joe...in no particular order:</div><div> </div><ol><li>I love the personal heater that you are. The bed is always 20 degrees warmer with you in it. </li><li>I love that you know just when I need a hug, aren't afraid to give it to me anywhere, and know just how long to hold on without me saying a word. </li><li>I love that you live without fear or reservation. You always have a new idea, believe anything is possible, and ALWAYS live in the moment.</li><li>I love that you never harass me over money or "pretty things" I just can't live without. </li><li>I love your fun-loving spirit. I haven't met a person yet who doesn't think you are amazing (me included), and I admire you for the lifelong friends you have and treasure.</li><li>I love that you embrace our kids and their youth...never ashamed to get on the floor and play "puppy" with Kate or "crash trains" with Conor. </li><li>I love how you support me. No matter how many hours I think I can work, community programs I think I can get involved in, or "me time" I need. You may shake your head, but you do it with a smile.</li><li>I love how much fun we have when we travel. How you insist on always driving, feel completely comfortable in the silence not always feeling the need to talk (simply enjoying eachother), embrace exploring new things, and always share the airtime with music you know I would enjoy. </li><li>I love how in all these years, I never feel jealous of your time with others. You have given me more confidence and security than I have ever known. The best relationship to be in is one of trust, laughter, and love. </li><li>I love that every year on our Anniversary, you write the number of years we have been married in the card, like it's your favorite sports team jersey number. <img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 240px; height: 320px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5717570847574723506" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr5-8fYP388k92xjaOMfZ9CHnB6bJm0yvaKdm9zogaZYOFJe7BObEwGjudLisfDPqI_Wbu4oLe-LM5Zs-M26T0FlavLAIt62F7Virq3aFBb22N6GYK08gFnTrjL2r4VOvdEiUx8q8rDDKW/s320/003.JPG" /></li></ol><p>Ok. Had to add #11. I love that public posts like this don't embarass you at all. </p><p>Thanks for making everyday better than the last, and making marriage so easy...so fun.</p><p>I love you.</p></div>The Clark Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737995755473501422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8933735315481103439.post-18048105454264657482011-12-25T20:24:00.000-05:002012-12-27T20:25:43.718-05:00Slumber party with Nana<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9gL5278KYa03RsQ6r4ZGRUANEa-wRz4XFOvsy5diXa9R7En_X6xm2sq8P4MGn3UXd4AGdFZhYSDazPflozlj7mb56Gxuyrx8G8VYixdIVRgehDhqbOqS1VZMvPPMiDW225-6dxet7BeEN/s1600/tx7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9gL5278KYa03RsQ6r4ZGRUANEa-wRz4XFOvsy5diXa9R7En_X6xm2sq8P4MGn3UXd4AGdFZhYSDazPflozlj7mb56Gxuyrx8G8VYixdIVRgehDhqbOqS1VZMvPPMiDW225-6dxet7BeEN/s320/tx7.jpg" width="320" /></a>We couldn't leave Texas without a stop at Nana's house. The kids love to visit Nana and were entertained for hours with their favorite game- Dominoes. </div>
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After a little dessert and a few bubble baths we all climbed into Nana's bed for a slumber party. </div>
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Nightime chatter with my MiMi was always comforting, and I found that same comfort listening to her chatter with her great grandchildren. Three generations all snuggled in bed...It was a Merry Christmas indeed.</div>
The Clark Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737995755473501422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8933735315481103439.post-51608815878948295602011-12-24T20:09:00.000-05:002012-12-27T20:25:43.720-05:00One day in December<div style="text-align: center;">
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I grew up in the city. But, one weekend a month when I was young, I would travel with my Dad 100 miles to the country to stay with my Grandparents while my Dad tended to his reserve duties. It was a weekend I always looked forward to, and a home where so many wonderful childhood memories still exist. So, one day in December, I picked my Grandma up from the Nursing Home and we traveled back to her home for no reason at all. </div>
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Even though the home is no longer occupied and three decades have gone by, the living room still looks like I remember it. I remember watching Saturday morning cartoons on the TV (in the center). I remember the old 8-track player that sat on the end table and played Polka music for hours. I remember sitting quietly in this living room listening to my Grandma talk to her friends in Czech on the telephone. And I remember when that AC wall unit was installed. I don't know how we ever survived the summers without it! </div>
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This is my Grandma's kitchen. I remember the old cubbard to the left where she would hide the candy bars, the smell of scrambled eggs and ham as it made its way from the kitchen to the bedroom in the mornings, and where every little item was to help bake cookies. She made GREAT cookies! </div>
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These were the sausage barrels. Making sausage was a family affair. We would sit parallel on either sides of the table and work in an assembly line. I was always best at tying off the ends, so it was next to these barrels where I usually sat. When the barrels were full, we carried them to the smke house for the best dry sausage around. In all my years of trying, nothing beats good old butchered, seasoned, grinded, cased, dried in a smoke-house home sausage like we used to make it! Except, of course, when paired with cheese and a Shiner Bock! </div>
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Me and my Grandmother spent many days in this kitchen, at this sink, washing eggs we had just picked. My Grandma can tell some funny stories from when I was little and full of questions on where the eggs came from and why they needed to be washed. The stories are so much funnier now, listening to her tell them to her great grandchildren. </div>
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The jars. You name it, and it came out of the garden and into these jars. I remember one season helping to pick cucumbers from the garden and getting bit a dozen or so times from a fire ant pile. Needless to say, I didn't go back in the garden. Ants still creep me out. </div>
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Oh how I wanted to take these with me. These were the old metal band-aid boxes they had when I was a kid. Only, when the bandaids ran out, we used the tins for all kinds of things...lost buttons, beeds, and crayons are what I remember. They were the best storage boxes for us girls! </div>
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And the coke bottles we used to feed a calf or two or three...</div>
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My grandparents old ice cream maker. We would pull this out in the summertime, and all sit under the carport to enjoy it. I remember it being so hot, you practically had to inhale it before it would melt. I can still taste the sugar. </div>
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The old meat hooks from the hogs still hang in the garage. </div>
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And the old meat grinder still shelved among items that haven't been used in years. </div>
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While years have passed, and I have grown, the memories never fade. On this trip, I found a new appreciation for my youth and the life my Grandparents lived. It was just me and my Grandmother together walking room to room, talking and laughing recalling fond memories. Some of the stories she would recall I hadn't ever heard. It made me smile just to watch her share them. Every once in a while, my Dad would join us to look at something we had run across. It was like picking up pictures from an old photo album. <br />
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While the distance makes it difficult to visit as much as I would like, spending a few hours with my Grandma on this day, and sharing conversation as grown adults made this one of the best memories. </div>
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The Clark Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737995755473501422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8933735315481103439.post-72686819585329288622011-12-23T19:30:00.000-05:002012-12-27T20:25:43.721-05:00Not better, just new<div style="text-align: center;">
I have written before about <a href="http://clarkinfestedwaters.blogspot.com/2011/06/house-that-built-me.html" target="_blank">where I grew up</a>, and how good it feels to witness a liftime of work pay off for <a href="http://clarkinfestedwaters.blogspot.com/2011/06/dreams-do-come-true.html" target="_blank">someone you love</a>. But, this Christmas was even more special because it was the year we were able to spend together in my parent's new home. This would be a year when me and my kids would be sharing "first" memories together. The first time in the new house, the first time arond the new tree, the first time seeing Rudolph's cousins. Precious memories in the new jacuzzi tub pressing the limit on bubble bath. </div>
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Many laughs chasing Uncle Brad around a new floorplan, and wrestling on new carpet in a new room. </div>
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Countless games of dominoes at the kitchen table. </div>
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Many a mess clearing rocks for the new gate. </div>
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Plenty of rides on the tractor. </div>
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A memorable visit from Auntie Aubs. </div>
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And oodles of snuggles from Mom Mom. </div>
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No matter where we are, being surrounded my family truly makes for a great Christmas!</div>
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The Clark Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737995755473501422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8933735315481103439.post-28070593384956624492011-11-21T21:00:00.008-05:002011-11-21T21:20:00.011-05:00Ka-chow!<div align="center">You have to know this little guy to know <em>"Ka-chow!" </em></div><br /><div align="center"><br /></div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">For the Con-Man, <em>"Ka-chow" = Lightening McQueen!</em></div><br /><div align="center"><br /></div><br /><div align="center"><em></em></div><br /><div align="center">Tonight, when he took his eye to his toy box, I loaded him up for urgent care in his <em>"Ka-chow"</em> jammies, <em>"Ka-chow"</em> slippers, and with his "Ka-chow" toy car (the woobie was temporarily unlocatable). He was so brave. He didn't even cry. Nor did it phase him that his eye was leaking blood. Instead, he skipped around the urgent care office, and laid still waiting for his <em>"Ka-chow"</em> tracks (steri strips) to be put in place. </div><br /><div align="center"><br /></div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">"<em>Two tracks!"</em> he said. He can't wait to show all his friends at school tomorrow! </div><br /><div align="center"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5677638630963402690" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-u4Y4OxkppfamVCrEHEmOE1DBhtHtrPp0a5vJ7ci8qrzobnjbc5jvqk6EO4AiFLjsqSFHmn3LreV6fz5b2aPaY9ZnanzWoSU8fvY3gP9zdzhrToP7c-Q0P3WXZn6ImGvZKutzjrhS0UWA/s320/163.JPG" />I am so glad we had the Christmas pictures done just hours before! <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 246px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5677638359519899170" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgas8Q78Mhu0bBdZlH5uFfCcX_ha0gPOh4wbfipIVPyJ0rszmK2CLNGw4-9AGmz2vXzwCCtXSncWN-3lUz8m9J8ztwe8VBh9TTjFZ2CA47N1dI11EMWEBOTHCOiAJ0VsaV0TnMCrin_FQSd/s320/68.jpg" /> </div>The Clark Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737995755473501422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8933735315481103439.post-33920174713143011852011-11-14T06:12:00.006-05:002011-11-14T06:19:27.853-05:00Liberty and Justice<div align="center">This past week, we celebrated the brave men and women who dedicate and sacrifice their lives to serve our country. </div><br /><div align="center">As such, Katie learned all about the "veterans", and practiced filling in the blanks on the pledge she has been reciting now for two years. </div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">But, on this day...for some reason...it was all about her. <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674808871235690562" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDtJ_4AbMpnawaC2otJxnzlu5e2mTPLc5p7CkfS8hiOULV9H86gvOn3jGF2FErmx7U8z6akMIil1PKqUUEYz7SMRlaziZprPUccS7Bb4y1H3bHdrCFO_u3L7xOuJQ69REnJbv6QV0koF8w/s320/053.JPG" />She gets her sense of humor from her Father.</div>The Clark Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737995755473501422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8933735315481103439.post-68336564066453463682011-11-13T15:30:00.012-05:002011-11-13T19:07:28.715-05:00Finding your voiceI remember when we found out we were having a boy. Other Moms warned be it would be different. "You will love your children the same," they would say. "But, your relationship with your son will be different."<br /><br />While I didn't think it was possible, they were right. I do love my children the same, but my relationships with them are different.<br /><br />I have told <a href="http://clarkinfestedwaters.blogspot.com/2011/03/new-beginning.html">your story </a>before. After eighteen months seeing an Early Intervention Specialist once a week, you still hadn't found "<a href="http://www.apraxia-kids.org/">your voice</a>". You were two years behind, and the specialists offered me no options, despite my expressions of concern.<br /><br />I have always believed God puts people in your life for a reason...be it good or bad. Thankfully, God put a friend in my life who cared enough (and knew enough) to show me I did have options. I needed to see a developmental pediatrician for a <em>medical</em> opinion. Thanks to God, my dear friend, and a few good doctors, we received your medical diagnosis and began our treatment plan.<br /><br />Since that time six months ago, you have indeed "found your voice". I will never forget when you said "Mama" for the first time, "Love you", or "I can talk". Sure, you may not be able to say your name, but you can spell it! Your words aren't always clear, but you have come leaps and bounds.<br /><br />We look forward to celebrating your progress again and again! We have so much hope and are so proud of you!<br /><br /><a href="http://youtu.be/oCFwnqzI6pg">http://youtu.be/oCFwnqzI6pg</a>The Clark Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737995755473501422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8933735315481103439.post-78223767832857374282011-11-08T17:39:00.005-05:002011-11-08T17:44:39.299-05:00TombstonesJoe was driving Kate back from horseback this evening...<br /><em><strong></strong></em><br /><em><strong>Kate </strong>(pointing out the window): I saw the stones. They are by the church. That's where you are not allowed to go.</em><br /><em></em><br /><em><strong>Joe</strong> (looking out the window): Stones? Oh, the tombstones. Do you know what those are?</em><br /><em></em><br /><em><strong>Kate</strong>: No.</em><br /><em></em><br /><em><strong>Joe</strong>: When a person dies, their body is buried in the ground and marked with a tombstone. Their body stays in the ground and their spirit goes to heaven.</em><br /><br /><em><strong>Kate</strong>: With their head?</em><br /><br />Some things are just worth documenting...The Clark Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737995755473501422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8933735315481103439.post-48343232889977102152011-11-05T14:46:00.000-04:002012-12-27T20:25:43.719-05:00Weird Science<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
When the cold air moves in and the kids get restless, we look for something fun to do as a family. This weekend, Joe had a rare Saturday off so we found ourselves heading South to explore the Maryland Science Center in Baltimore. </div>
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It's entrance sits overlooking the Baltimore Harbor, and even on a bitter cold day, the view from the front steps is spectacular! Daddy sure is proud of his hometown - how is it he says it, Bal-mor?</div>
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The kids enjoyed learning all about Dinosaurs (shown below sitting in a dinosaur nest)</div>
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and other inticing topics such as the various types of noises humans make (I bet you can guess what their favorite was!) Obviously, they are very curious at this age!</div>
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Daddy, the weather man, even found his own exhibit to enjoy, and picked up an idea to share for Kate's upcoming science project...Tornadoes!</div>
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Katie learned about physics while laying on a bed of nails...</div>
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and Conor tried out a space suit when learning about gravity. </div>
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All of our newly acquired knowledge made us hungry, so we continued our adventure along the harbor.</div>
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It was Daddy's idea to introduce Conor to Hooter's. I swear it is the fried pickles he is giving a thumbs up to in this picture. </div>
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The Clark Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737995755473501422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8933735315481103439.post-40135041838099384222011-10-29T08:37:00.023-04:002011-10-29T10:33:15.164-04:00Happy Fall<p align="center">As record breaking as it is, I am thankful for the Halloween weekend...and the snow. It has forced cancellations on our holiday plans, and allowed me to sip on a warm beverage, under a fuzzy blanket, next to the fireplace, while catching up on the fun things I have put aside for way too long. The laundry can wait...today is about crafts, cookies, and the kids.<br /></p><br /><div align="center">The seasons have turned. The tights have been dug out, the boots dusted off, and we have embraced all things Fall. What we discovered to be our favorite <a href="http://clarkinfestedwaters.blogspot.com/2010/12/family-tree-farm.html">tradition for Christmas</a>, has now become a <a href="http://www.strathmeyerchristmastrees.com/family_tree_farm.php">family tradition for Fall.</a> </div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 181px" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668910454490187938" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWYyChXatHu6CwutwZCoHbYjPw99qbKPI21Jak4u9e4E9NtPlw8cykgVrudiFxgGf-FReHM0Z674sgHW9zUwB34ThUWNcG4Ky6KDgRDdIzAgzx9aIjvSkRPw2Sp6AgVbERf3lLF7hcH_1U/s320/2011-10-16_12-26-39_494.jpg" /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center">We slung apples</div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 181px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668909152535548098" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPPilEKkHFBwMvHfJP9WXevSsrVN_E2vvnxw5xea7hLhoA9oij4cHsjL9UvZFlMGBcpTg_x-b-bFTuy3yXL9CRC4lcgUrDgsAAkUs_5aWoQn8Yr9oHYWKoZPnV-z9ChShP3DaQe-wimk4s/s320/2011-10-16_12-11-37_370.jpg" /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center">Pet the sheep...cookie and lil darlin.</div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 181px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668908630624758834" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj4FCU8Vga4rx1Sd0T_O4zsT5WIhCCZT8bNa45pyVu5uEBph_zZlwXlhVGWmnaesb3LWdz1PSWCV5AVywH9dbW3mktYbZ4Z1t73Bov7_IDWb_FvRG-urDY3q8boD1EVYPYk1x-rG-S5q2q/s320/2011-10-16_12-14-14_131.jpg" /><br /><br /><div align="center">Took a tractor ride to a pumpkin patch to find pumpkins of our very own. </div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 181px" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668908093749220418" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzTWNKs_xXZWqnZNTsonJFkXXQqqJwZgwuqaIkaedw32JDxY7wCmOirdVZcZL1rxACCB7ln6-xLZKs5VjFmy-8AsZ_7qbSwm_GWfKfiZnZUm84L5BnxVNje3aRUuPsREJHwehShRDhgZla/s320/2011-10-16_12-40-26_236.jpg" /> <br /><br /><div align="center">And watched the kids make the most of hay bails. </div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 181px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668918798830653170" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq6xMH2pEcQTmRmNr1j-CbJxgRkO7K27WIQin-lx8ZMzssT6WNcU5UL6BDcWy7xtqtDU7Vw5rncf6mgDwLRXvf5exd8fx4sX48O1MRTnjAzbD62m-hviyTD-UuN5ZZSDq71toWI1yhcl8O/s320/2011-10-16_12-45-27_454.jpg" /> <br /><p align="center"><br />Kate took a school field trip to Browns Apple Orchard with her best bud Carsyn<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 234px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 331px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668906877208573698" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU5bwYJprmG4NFw6uah2b5c02_M2KXqHtBZRNiNKfqJwEFOsIJEjrBDcImlo_J8fTUL71rNNevk55c6mn7IeIP1woxQv542-Z1w4jZXBJP8DGlT32szAFs6MP_BbZM0TpRciMSS0PBABgO/s320/014.JPG" /></p><br /><div align="center">and Conor (Buzz Lightyear) had a Halloween parade.</div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 235px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 340px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668912193936627074" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw3VIVT9bJl3Z4j5NuGWwMyTYUhZEe5sUI9f3unDVtDfsM5VnpjNmvxXyQiXG8-WJz3UEEJ9xfmTIMFyCz0vaYwyvU82_PSbKmubZIWoUexyxVS5pcGXCbFpnoWFg3KFnwVwg8b9PYnvVn/s320/055.JPG" /><br /><br /><div align="center">We gathered with family for the annual carving of pumpkins </div><br /><br /><p align="center"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668905239463050610" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Y4rviSyuT4SccQaMmrVesA4CyjDsYeuoVqYDFGopgEI14qi3eFUf_K-t9kxZjVh05JLkiccPDKRQdNKEUp4QnfVpD5ZYw1EEMlefHl5GPQxT_dCLV50AgSiNJqLO1rHNwsWV76pn7pcD/s320/046.JPG" /> And watched for the first time as the kids really embraced the fun of ripping out the guts.<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668905945435560210" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGPBVxOE5kQl4cC26xuemuS3Z2bIpZ__kWA1S4wzKEVd7gzOVOlFlGBWvbrNenBFTs56i75pkNeiOTdjzzpNXgr6J0CJtGm6uP62iSDb52WtUen9aCIHl7D3vnvcH4ODJcsY-ru-Rr4DGZ/s320/035.JPG" /> Happy Fall! </p>The Clark Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737995755473501422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8933735315481103439.post-24691658890839905882011-10-22T07:25:00.004-04:002011-10-22T07:44:51.294-04:00Kinder be KindKindergarten has changed you. You are more independent. More responsible. You are requesting to take baths on your own, saying things like, "<em>I can do it, Mommy</em>" when I try to help, and are forming words with your letters. <br /><div><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>It's only been two months, but I have seen the changes. Just a few weeks ago, you requested to rid your costume carousel and get a desk. Given the nature of the request, we obliged.<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 180px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666280795040901154" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZL4zWvlZbXTrHRzfSFaAbyzX96mCM2Cw4Bzjmhc3nZCIksvbG1U-6kp01BbkJ1PDLldihnlYMPV90Cw5kzzAh9xLx17PhS8xEeJ1qVNW4ClLTvNg4JZnkncolIc_2_KWEW161xw6rrQA1/s400/katedesk.jpg" />And this week, I took you for your five year old pictures. With just one look, your Daddy said, <em>"I'm dead". </em>I think he can see the changes too!</div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 349px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666279586357804722" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP8eSHtDDrijvLGGNoaLM97xIfDN3SKbaznspjOBQkW3eh10TeIizt6ORbRGNPuHbAdGwFWy3Xyz0V0x1eWxqI_vkTwLspndiLqFvM9a8IO0rVqBaSP0v4XZ75TqGZNbozz9RquxucAt9U/s400/5yokate.png" /> </div>The Clark Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737995755473501422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8933735315481103439.post-49630013865291912092011-09-26T22:38:00.013-04:002011-09-29T20:53:45.589-04:00School DaysJust like when the <a href="http://clarkinfestedwaters.blogspot.com/2010/02/letting-go.html">kids moved into their BIG beds</a>, I put this post off for one month too. We had an earthquake and flooding from a hurricane...yet...this is the memory I will keep. <br /><br /><br /><div><br /><div></div><br /><div>This year the kids both hit big milestones...Kate entering Kinder and Conor headed to Pre-school.<br /></div><br /><div align="center">Since she was 6 months old, Kate has spent her days with Ms. Marci. I took this picture on her last day. It was a Wednesday. <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657944866205488802" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6BwdymsgaAlVllvrV8mKDCdlh1rrd6QkoXKQ4TEUuhWyvvbiM0Hd9TfOuYBTDSLmAAVODyLAeI59vPOHU7bIk-M4iQGNdAMDNt1BqarqMPDn5vslqQOsNcOEoMjksAGsABJ9vdxCOyGAr/s320/014.JPG" />So, it was hard to believe that just one day later, she looked like this. <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657944515252823906" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQNygjp6XT0pQsx2H4DfctPHibhJzJtuLFnbmu1JtPRsBZafmwQj5Uwb_pI9Zx3269MLUAPAHSQaoVWm43u6TrPfYUGdeU9QtsZIG0d6WNvGcbeVZm_bwZPxB1S1g6l8zq48cMuQr70VHN/s320/027.JPG" />In my eyes, it was like she grew up over night. </div><br /><div><br /></div><br /><div></div><br /><div align="center">True to his personality, Conor took the first day of school without fear or reservation. <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657943776001863650" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD5YL0zfnyfcrxl0YL4-hYhEaqmAPRLLcod6mv7h67_V0YT82gUmMFFfFrikK-CSdTju2uLccJODXU6jEYaMbn_Do8-lF6x4KbylbKbcCJZR4MxbYjJLmKzjxB0MALxs_saiigvXZWABFj/s320/007.JPG" />He only had a moment of sadness when he found out he couldn't ride the school bus with his sister. <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657943619147655362" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxPAYnK3p_Ci_5lBUFO_hQdDYWSVpDOFCrPMA-pSvw0nYsCK2VkvLlrmuA0soulQAdCnlnOolnU2W77RvSadOSwmpWX39pbFBTuNT3iajLUefn2GSlJyaDOAXStpHXqe4tTSZOSFCqS3m-/s200/003.JPG" /></div></div><br /><div align="center">I couldn't have said it better. <em>"You are my sunshine," Buddy.<br /></em><br /><div></div><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657944125875404786" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha3pALpijkHijfNx57H7LiKkTd-i6bSjhwXCMOnsTIWjncojGc7iEtCsyFktKwbtwgY4xBP_YjyDDGH7Sa9jzhid0QIV62_S2Ag7Fd3HbGue270Q5e526lT_Rg6NXeKYxA2BFK4YcKpWD3/s200/005.JPG" />It has been an exciting month for them both, and I couldn't be more pleased with how they are embracing their new friends and adventures. So, I have to face the inevitable...time goes forward.<br /></div><br /><div>Still...I wish it would slow down a bit... </div></div>The Clark Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737995755473501422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8933735315481103439.post-19467261111202770942011-08-24T12:36:00.009-04:002011-08-24T13:09:51.857-04:00Woobies are hereditaryAs a baby, we frequently wrapped our son in his sister's Christening blanket because it was soft, knitted, cool, and didn't seem to bother his sensitive skin the way the other blankets did. Since then, it has remained a necessity. He sleeps with it, travels with it everywhere (although it stays in the car), takes it to daycare, and brings it to dinner. It has been swimming, made smores, flown on an airplane, and dragged through the dirt more times than I can count. It is frayed, has holes, and is no longer a bright shade of white. It's his "woobie".
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<br /><div>I have been thinking about how to rid him of it, and even looked to Mr. Mom (1983) for advice. </div>
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<br /><div>But, that didn't work. </div>
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<br /><div>Then, last weekend, we were cleaning out the basement going through old boxes when we found this. <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644469639189106706" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihVRQ7nMo69fF-FvMu26zHMQJ2Au6Wl805EjMzVy73OiEkliAySKe8ACdYnMGU1j0lyXgOsrfQuFQt-oZejPIJhaqH-_WvhydeqNuEf52X7JxQ1_gwubI7JRsrApMb7XZhDnR1rbzCyx6Z/s320/113.JPG" />The picture doesn't due it justice. My husband had stored away his favorite old t-shirt in the bottom of a box. It was faded, torn multiple times around the logo on the backside, and was so thin I could have used it for kleenex. Yet, he held it like a new born baby. Better yet, like our son holds his woobie. <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644469448391150754" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtqna0unl7BV-h38Ovq7NucTthSoYmCQbMtBRfKnGXC8j5mi0F_GLx3TqFwsco6oNjHQWM3mQZ5hcfYoCd3ZPtSMh5m-tzBXnV65EMwrBWbkBv3ugv0Pf96WnALylUwHp8fLD9NMMHcLA5/s400/111.JPG" /></div>
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<br />The Clark Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737995755473501422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8933735315481103439.post-24711631169217923862011-08-11T11:48:00.005-04:002011-08-11T11:58:24.240-04:00Jeans PleaseWith the exception of her snowsuit, she has not had a desire to wear jeans or pants in over three years. Even in the winter. However, in the one week since she has met <a href="http://clarkinfestedwaters.blogspot.com/2011/08/cowgirl-up.html">Hannah and Miles</a>, she has requested jeans and received a new shiny "heart embelished" leather belt from Mom Mom and Pop Pop.
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<br /><div></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639627457031208370" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPuLMntuUAEDO0uJIbrW_CHEYB9SBo2QWuet_ISQSYKhC6HbRzqIq_hOpOX4ukbGYziggfSX9pfhAvo1Wvtm26BnbZhW-X_G89e6nmNC718cSrEQ2uUExMlFAS-WtozbUVqflQpU8d4bph/s320/004.JPG" />
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<br /><div>I am nervous what the next year will bring. She is head over heels in love with her horses.</div>
<br />The Clark Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737995755473501422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8933735315481103439.post-9019773656051001002011-08-04T21:41:00.014-04:002011-08-04T22:20:56.120-04:00Cowgirl Up<div align="center">While my grandparents <a href="http://clarkinfestedwaters.blogspot.com/2010/03/roots-in-boots.html">had a farm </a>growing up, I was told we could never have horses. They were too much maintenance and too dangerous. So, I resulted to picking eggs, feeding chicks, and the like. They were all good memories. But, it wouldn't be until I was 23 years old and living in Southern California, that I would have my first ride on a horse. It was a trail ride in Descanso and one of the best days ever! It felt so natural to ride. It was relaxing. Therapeutic almost. </div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">Fast forward to 2011. Our little Kate is obsessed with horses. She wears them on her shirts, carries stuffed varieties on road trips, and recently received an American Girl Palomino compliments of <a href="http://clarkinfestedwaters.blogspot.com/2009/02/notes-from-nana.html">Nana</a>. So, it was no surprise to us that this year, she chose to have Horseback Riding lessons instead of dance. </div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center"><br /></div><br /><div align="center">This is her with Hannah. <br /></div><br /><div align="center"></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637186243565912530" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzA8xEJzFA0E8QcAHJ49UZCYco5lInu5aCqZ2mdsBPyR8IyB9kec1Maq4N3LLdCbzESvT6-_b1LIiPeRUqzWG9e4pJD0xgxvsQ69uToXb_5IPN7yS14y01RP_og2u2NiNbC4BEuIUNQa5g/s320/008.JPG" /> <br /><p align="center">Hannah is an American Paint Horse. 7 years old. </p><br /><div align="center"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637186710028235138" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXBMD-d8Gkjfk-MjDCB-0YFy7x_2CXK1xxRBDoeSstt7GkvUwjC58gDAoQcr0c7i1LMivutmNtk16dldWeAc5dHUYyO6rq9iFZzKiQUj1hvv_wAl-L83pvgRtV10j2OEGQwO7lLsSgWPsO/s320/015.JPG" /> <br /><div align="center">She enjoyed cleaning her and putting cream on her "boo boos". It was A+D diaper rash cream. Who knew there were so many uses?</div><br />This is Miles. He is a Morgan. 17 years old.<br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637185839011771522" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1VPucaHE7XwdaKLj_MrXukAFQJ_A82oSWpq8jrfpkzN4-UGX5h9A1RDYyYNXdReGSazenMcdOW6pxWPPkPe_frlQN2ihTDVy7SWi_xn3a6OY65hDbpULdUD3NBsT8d7mMKyA8AQPZTxXP/s320/033.JPG" /> </div><br /><div align="center">Katie thought it was gross that he drooled all over the place. We learned a little too much clover causes for a bit too much gas.<br /></div><br /><div align="center"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637185195679119666" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTHDJuEWkWXM1Fw0Ss7VH3_m7XAMmmphMjY1PUsuOIpkB8CRdtO2H_3gxSmtGaA9LNRQcWSHPJc0b_MVnke43Rcf484BDp5-6mynRC7sJHs_rNwc6hxz7CO8kCO0w0pcqevg3_yjagzrkr/s320/035.JPG" />She brushed, and brushed, and brushed some more. Then, took her cleaning to another level, cleaning the frog of his hoof. She thought it was neat he got to walk around without shoes. Barefoot. <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637184885302766562" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuGqIom4xp7y9yPuRt8nSqbbgaLM5EK3gfBQdbvKKUWCKIdw4dDtjYpSJ9Vgjav8B2d79xnZsejVw_OIbhVay6W6vQHIPzNBm4exPqwbS0fER7hWOxj1aNW1FnXjsHzZKstf66QitOs8j7/s320/040.JPG" /></div><br /><div align="center">Then, she took to the saddle. A "Circle Y" to boot. So cool that her first ride was on leather made in Yoakum, Texas. Yeehaw, Ya'll!<br /></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637184505455985202" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtKMzDYUXi3TVMsQ4R9FPFz1H-S9bK51X49Qj-URj1A7rrKQqrlp_beIsVBNj9mrtfJhfNzRmf5FoqUJGH9tcAmTwdsE6efAxKyB5OFfZsmwPCyqt1VDrJsYXepw4k8k4Q8ETI0flREbez/s320/041.JPG" /> <br /><p align="center">Check out that posture! Such a little cowgirl. Such a cutie!<br /></p><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637184302924529890" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE69NcmClOCWzWvLQ47X1KfFRjyzKxtrw3yb2deFdJz1SUNAsno9-7XcTx9r-sX0G8GR_Cr5GWtHjFs7Y-fy1YX0ZJ7fnqYDOg-anS7lXv7s5ljPwdbP4xGm_aPITPrDtn45AVFqo6e31X/s320/046.JPG" />The Clark Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737995755473501422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8933735315481103439.post-64499882146294024762011-08-02T12:02:00.004-04:002011-08-02T12:08:49.066-04:00Spaceballs<div>My husband and I had a "laugh-out-loud" moment today, which sent me running to the assistance of Google for an image. Little Kate's best friend, Caroline, was over to play. As Joe and I were in the kitchen making lunch, Caroline leaned over to Katie and said, "<em>Your Mommy looks like the Druish Princess Vespa from Spaceballs."</em></div><br /><div></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 160px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 265px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636290640281053490" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitWopFl7lEFbvqskwZAeoJytrSOwR3Q-Szb76zNKprtzNEuinZCdRUokCOcXVO0ZFlP_GHIEKhTGKAvsoQq6R5iDPJH9dZLm9sJzjnJlvphAYdBSwVKrXj9wSCXGI7L3vpziYeB_4IYx_m/s320/spaceballs.jpg" /><br />If I remember correctly, she was spoiled and had her nose corrected. Still, I'll take that as a compliment. Thanks, Caroline! <br /><div></div><br /><div></div>The Clark Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737995755473501422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8933735315481103439.post-78940627538623358022011-07-20T17:35:00.013-04:002011-07-20T18:38:20.695-04:00At 5 years old...<div><br /><div align="center"><strong>At 5 years old, you found your first Best Friend, Caroline. </strong></div><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div align="center">I hope you always cherish and love your friends the way you cherish and love Caroline. Best friends are special and can last a lifetime.</div><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631560858409637426" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvv8_QYHF-gcBABfkGbT4V7Frii4fUDfqbYNGo2sQWafLAwty8ayTO6TCtWjdNmU0jOnVVMg4Ial3aXi8Rrk4lV-iOyRrTsfHquuHfbScRUN3Wp8kYH46s4oF7DuC0sKSldEzF7DLUjI7h/s320/069.JPG" /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><div align="center"><strong>At 5 years old, you asked for a phone.</strong><br /></div><br /><br /><div align="center">We were teaching you how to dial your phone number, and you kindly asked when you could have your own phone. It was nice, but the answer is still no. </div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><div align="center"><strong>At 5 years old, you began to ask why others are different. </strong></div><br /><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">This is the age where you are recognizing the differences in your friends. Just recently, you asked me why all your friends are losing their teeth and you are not. Just remember, when it is your time, it will happen. Life is full of surprises! Don't try and figure them out.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center"><strong>At 5 years old, you enjoyed doing homework in the summer. </strong></div><br /><div align="center"><br />I love to see your face light up when you write your letters, and put the sounds together to make a word. May learning always make you feel this confident!</div><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631560056941796322" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM5yacy88GjdKJO9tsoveK0hyYh_hR9PP3FnVUrEH7-mvyGewGWVC_lNBne_uSJ4mP0XzYSWSyeiPS0NrNxHCsCG8jmgJnVEEdJQE_A5pQAqftmSMrJhH-L2vdT4OGFcyXjAK-Bd_b8au4/s320/001.JPG" /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><div align="center"><strong>At 5 years old, you received your first American Girl doll from Nana. </strong></div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">You picked Rebecca Rubin, because she looked just like you. </div><br /><br /><div align="center"><br /></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631558240458402978" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFwFhZEWwKdAjn0kk_brqgsj6GOnr1bzPo53JR3_jZv_QKtQacz8Ua3PpxYsQ451EFKCHLqMTFZujlwn2HYIBveHQQQu4OWfidl71fM59szUkvkf5Tg4v0BAkXhsvOPCzfGAcYomTN39Dk/s320/033.JPG" /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong>At 5 years old, we celebrated! </strong></div><br /><br /><div align="center">This was the year we arranged a party for the first time outside the house. It was so wonderful to see you share the excitement of your birthday with all your friends!<br /></div><br /><div><strong></strong></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631557775681754162" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsEvg6yTCXfnpIpF81CWT8_wAuhsOCNKWD5-HMy-EH9ASMDjUc1Ihr7ZCUXcNvFaxbVskn1DTXAsyIW5yTnxjYkOHZSi1SoDS1Heny5lmKod4Eejnw5QGxkBMCqKZyx-mS-RTZjjQ7JlOT/s320/052.JPG" /><br /><br /><div><strong><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631557404314616258" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOulTzwkChyphenhyphenJ3qNWTcsP-DHzs6X0N0FH5DlTiltIdKP0T1UFbwxFNrM_vTywqLJDq0l6_YnlZZndm-RQz6LwHgIs5cPA-aCtT3RiRB9AWTMUFtc6xUjH4fe8oxYGMM2ATfi8Oh9tR4ui7T/s320/056.JPG" /></strong></div></div><br /><br /><p align="center">At 5 years old, we are so proud of the little girl you are growing up to be!</p>The Clark Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737995755473501422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8933735315481103439.post-40029370825124536722011-07-16T07:54:00.022-04:002011-07-16T16:37:52.972-04:00At any age, good girlfriends are a treasureIf we have learned anything as parents, it's that we need to take time for eachother and ourselves. So, many years ago, Joe and I agreed to annual "friend" trips. In recent years, the stars have aligned such that the Chargers and the Ravens have met up in San Diego. Therefore, Joe's annual trips have tended to lead him to the West Coast to watch sports. Me, on the other hand, I enjoy relaxing coastal vacations with the girls.<br /><br />This year, three of us Moms from the neighborhood headed down to Ocean City, MD, for some fun, sun, and relaxation. As with years past, I never know how much I need time with the girls until I am with them.<br /><br />We enjoyed our girlie beverages.<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630051017119567746" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8AYNQfSjBQvtrP7alZaplxKyEE0kNfvVwEFH6MF0WFIqDCQvBbeAEGdjgmw8PUzQSsEarTRM5tfWaqmPPbYGdvQYkhkYcVPbvLxyp8k05jAKQGzL6mkDwsw1-pub8Z6iCmF0H6n-bb2kg/s320/181.JPG" /><br />Found a cool sushi place (no shoes!).<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630044795633041458" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8okvhW3NmFB0NxXmfP9YuBxwjRRGFsq87CgbRRx83_JjXdko0C-_ph1Fwg2GfO8hhgaAFs843k_15q-HVoTdaEquZ6yhI6pBRNGObLlTAm1lMJgBz3xeGRblHcHDpiCevSM0EfN4PU2HY/s320/sushi.jpg" /> And indeed, relaxed on the beach. All. Day.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630044627522351890" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO58SBdJ0X0-z0fHX4EBleLI7izLfZ0dz_ioIB3_oBkAW3pGX1TQJYT_0qF4p3v14X8mrJWx7v7Gd9LM8kFU4ImNaG8rcKI1myea-d6gvAT_4gP7QNK-_Ju9Hobc9pyjXwI3EnIhQSJ7kd/s320/toes.jpg" /> As with all good times and good friends, our time together caused for some good memories...<br /><br /><strong>This is our friend we call MBA</strong>: It's meaning is not academic.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629962409582043666" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcZQYkWQe2aXyHNWteKFJDHlTHobbicO-Uehzc8vd5C82cJcGFtytKMqZSTTEyzmHx6UbjatVIpaW5ThEqE1brGKVTOHHgNyhC4zDdOMinDqPmmJnbYGac3nsRPBl4HA_kMvjIKsND9NAv/s400/amber.jpg" /><br /><strong>The Bruiser</strong>: This is me. And, the nickname? Well deserved.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629961823329965906" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhklo2sjhJLngs2-dqE31fEt-sw-bO6JdV19-f3Uu7YwJcVpA64N3lI46ufPlHIX6fFkpqrjLlJettaxULbwkGOBAKxsGfcQZAwAEapmxnyt-02evMMnBBdVUkWYOKcEpE7CApTBh4EOmdi/s400/bruiser.jpg" /> <strong>This beloved is Dirty Banana</strong>: While she didn't earn this nickname on the trip, we can always count on her to break out in dance to Michael Jackson.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629960724676530898" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdvfXl8mZjsid2F8fOLxLqFhogNBGd0OLMK4IuYwXBN0aGF7TrQZfqzKmsGKGsXG629zubigp6rXYvx84Hyrb9nWZUfal9e3VwryKsmLo9b8Y2QVqNbefJtDi_3dJ0ONzTIpyObdn4N-V0/s400/katie.png" /> I had such a good time with these ladies. I look forward to next year. We are parasailing!!!The Clark Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737995755473501422noreply@blogger.com0