tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16942741084690640582024-03-13T09:12:46.152-07:00Living in AWE. . .kasogaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01821991754937771142noreply@blogger.comBlogger53125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1694274108469064058.post-18683612484581089822010-08-07T07:29:00.000-07:002010-08-07T07:46:55.797-07:00Acorns & OaksYes, I've been out of the blogosphere for awhile...but it's not because I haven't thought about it! Excuses, excuses, I know...<br /><br />I've actually found myself heading up the women's ministry team at church and we are in the final stages of launching a blog for our women's ministry - <a href="http://www.springsstillwaters.wordpress.com/">www.springsstillwaters.wordpress.com</a>. Notice I said we are in the final stages...plan is to launch next week, but you know how plans go...check it out when you get a chance - God really stirred our hearts and gave us a vision for a place where the women of the Church can be real, not cookie-cutter. Where it is ok to be in process instead of having it all together. Where we can go beyond just being a "polite" church body into being an authentic church body. <br /><br />So on to my sweet A&W moment. Yesterday, I was home from work (summer schedule has me off every Friday, woo hoo!)...had big plans to paint A's room...we are in the middle of a room re-do for her 9th birthday later this month. BUT, decided I needed a nap before I tackled that project. <br /><br />The kids and I had visited the library a few weeks ago and picked up a few books that have just sat...so I picked one up and said "Let's read this one together..." So they climbed up into my bed and away we read. It's a Max Lucado children's book - "The Oak Inside the Acorn". I had never seen it before so thought we'd check it out. Little did I know it would turn out to be a very unforgettable moment...<br /><br />So the book is all about this acorn who, as he grows, has to leave his momma oak tree and go out on his own and become this giant oak, and he does and he holds swings and tree houses and all this good stuff...great story. So sweet...but when we finished reading the story, I looked at my kids. W is crying, silent tears running down his face, his giant gorgeous eyes all red. I'm serious, folks. These are real, my heart hurts tears....<br /><br />"W! What's wrong?", I asked. <br /><br />"Momma, that story is so sad!!! It made me cry."<br /><br />"What part made you cry, baby?"<br /><br />"The baby acorn had to leave his momma!!! That is so scary!"<br /><br />In the book, the momma oak tree tells baby acorn over and over again "There is a giant oak inside of you. Just be the tree God made you to be." So I tell W - yes, he had to leave his momma, but that's what God made him to do, to become the giant tree he was supposed to...this was not helping W's hurting heart at all...<br /><br />He says "I don't want to ever leave you, momma."<br /><br />"W, you will have to someday in order to become the great man of God that I know God has created you to be...but it's not today. It's not next week. You have a long time until you have to leave..."<br /><br />A is listening intently to all of this, very concerned about her little brother...hugging him, loving on him. So I seize the opportunity to lighten the mood...<br /><br />"Besides, A will have to leave before you do...and that means we'll have 2 whole years just us while she's out becoming the tree she is supposed to be!"<br /><br />That got a smile...what he didn't know is he had totally made my heart smile. <br /><br />Man, how I love that boy...the boy who will one day be a man who will have to leave me because there is a giant oak inside of him and he needs to become the tree God made him to be.kasogaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01821991754937771142noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1694274108469064058.post-58752818320172755602010-03-02T08:19:00.000-08:002010-03-02T08:52:35.866-08:00And here we go....I've been mentally preparing myself to have "the talk" with A for several months now....ok, a year. Ever since we were driving down the road talking about winter turning to spring and what our favorite things about that are and A says "it's when the grass turns green, the flowers start coming out, and all the animals start breeding..." A is quite the little science geek and she sees things through that science-filter most of the time....<br /><br />So, I've researched, talked to people, and read <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Chickens-Guide-Talking-Turkey-About/dp/0310283507/ref=sr_1_fkmr0_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1267546977&sr=8-1-fkmr0">books.</a> Talked to Dear Hubby to get our game plan... tried to psyche myself up, tried to figure out how much to share and how much can wait...I've prayed. Yes. I've prayed. Ok, God...don't let me sound like an idiot, ok? Don't let me scar her for life! And could you just send me a nice little sign when the time is right? That would be nice... My mom never attempted to give me "the talk" until I was 22 years old and engaged to be married. I have nothing to go by here, people. Don't make fun of my need to be overly prepared.<br /><br />Then, a few weeks ago, AGAIN driving in the car to take W to taekwondo, A&W start talking about babies...and ask me to tell them again how A used to get the hiccups all the time when she was in my tummy and how W used to stick his booty out or kick me in the ribs. Good times, good times...they love hearing stories about themselves in-utero.<br /><br />A's thought process got to rolling and she stops for a second and says "Mom - how DOES the baby get in there?" <br /><br />Me: "Well, A...."<br /><br />A interrupts: "I know God does it, Mom...I mean, HOW does he do it?" Dang...she shot me down before I even had a chance to use the God card.<br /><br />Did I tell her? No...I didn't think it was appropriate in front of my 6 year old son (that's my story and I'm sticking to it)...so I used a stall tactic...she persisted for a few minutes but eventually got distracted and forgot.<br /><br />Was that my moment? God, you forgot the sign to give me time to warm up! What if I pull a muscle or something? Besides, I wanted to cover some general girlie information about her reproductive system first! Lay the groundwork....you know. Dang... did I mess up?<br /><br />This weekend, I got to lay some groundwork...it started out as a discussion about B.O. and deodorant...then we progressed to other changes as you get older - bras, mostly (she told me there were 3 girls in her class who wore bras - this is 3rd grade, people!) - and then a whole explanation of ovaries and fallopian tubes and uterus. We ended up talking about periods and even took a kotex pad apart to see how it works. <br /><br />A never got weirded out or wide-eyed on me...she took it like a true little scientist. She asked good questions, she asked me when will it happen to her....But she never asked me what it takes for an egg to become a baby. And I didn't volunteer. <br /><br />I'm holding out for summer....I don't want to deal with parents calling me because my daughter is the one who told the whole class about the birds & the bees.kasogaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01821991754937771142noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1694274108469064058.post-2502878323780010862010-02-25T12:21:00.000-08:002010-02-25T12:50:29.989-08:00Sometimes girls try WAY too hard....It's been awhile since I posted any <a href="http://kasogayle.blogspot.com/2008/03/and-so-it-begins.html">W-isms</a>. Man, I don't know why because that kid gives me more material than I could ever use. He finds a way every single day to make me laugh.<br /><br />Here's one from earlier this week, however, which makes me wonder whether I should think it is hilarious or whether I need to have a talk with some mommas....<br /><br />I pick A&W up from school...as SOON as he gets in the car, W says:<br /><br />"Momma, I think there's a girl who likes me at school...actually, I think there may be TWO girls who like me...."<br /><br />Here I am, just smiling away, thinking to myself - <em>awww...of course they do! You are handsome, awesome, and amazing!</em><br /><em></em><br />But, ever curious as to how his little mind works, I ask:<br />"What makes you think that, W?"<br /><strong><em></em></strong><br />W says "Well, Annie tells me I'm cute all day long and follows me around..."<br /><br />Ok, I think - sounds pretty obvious that she likes him. "What about the other one?"<br /><br />"Katie? Oh, this one is the one I'm not sure about....she plays with my hair. Does that mean she likes me, Momma?"<br /><br />WHOA!!! Hold up! Playing with his hair? Ummm, that's a little forward, isn't it? What do these mommas teach them? I actually almost lost it...I had to hold in my laugh. And W kept talking.<br /><br />"And at lunch today, I sat down at my table...and then Katie came and sat on one side of me and Annie sat on the other side and made a W sandwich....next year, Annie is moving to another school, so she should be off my back. Now all I have to do is get rid of Katie."<br /><br />Well, guess we are going to talk about the fine art of flirting WAY earlier than I ever anticipated. W just shouldn't be so darn adorable, I guess. :)<br /><br /><strong><em>*Note: Names were changed to protect the identity of the little harlots..oops, I mean flirt-meisters.</em></strong>kasogaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01821991754937771142noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1694274108469064058.post-38339798195721328372010-02-22T09:12:00.000-08:002010-02-22T09:24:57.510-08:00A little light reading..."A" wrote these poems back in the fall...I've kept them on my desk at work because they make me smile every time I think about them...tried to scan them in but having issues...I'll come back and add later...in the meantime, I've typed them out for your reading pleasure:<br /><br /><div align="center">to mom and dad</div><div align="center">LEAVES</div><div align="center">I huddle underneath you</div><div align="center">in the fall. I sway high</div><div align="center">above you in the spring.</div><div align="center">I turn greener in the</div><div align="center">summer. In the winter</div><div align="center">I'm covered by snow.</div><br /><em>*This one is pretty deep to me..like a commentary on her life. When she's young, she huddles under her parents, then comes a time in life when she sways high above us (bratty teenager perhaps?), then she becomes more productive (greener) and then is covered by snow in her old age. :)</em><br /><br /><div align="center">to: dad</div><div align="center">ROCK</div><div align="center">I sit on the</div><div align="center">ground all</div><div align="center">day and night</div><div align="center">with nothing to do</div><div align="center">but watch life</div><div align="center">pass by.</div><br /><em>* All I could do is laugh when I read this and make fun of Dear Hubby</em><br /><em></em><br /><div align="center">to: mom</div><div align="center">GRASS</div><div align="center">I sway in the wind and</div><div align="center">grow tall and thin</div><div align="center">also give homes to many</div><div align="center">insects.</div><br />*<em> And then I read mine...what the heck? I like the growing tall and thin part, but not sure what to make of swaying in the wind or giving home to many insects. Is she making a commentary on my housekeeping habits? :) Now I've changed my mind - no deep metaphorical meaning - they are just about rocks and grass. Period. I hope.</em>kasogaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01821991754937771142noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1694274108469064058.post-25422124654552785712009-10-29T10:41:00.000-07:002009-10-30T06:41:27.007-07:00Tough Lesson on LightAs my fam is getting ready for our annual <a href="http://kasogayle.blogspot.com/2008/11/light-night.html">LighttheNight</a> festivities this weekend, I was thinking back through the year about times when I have been so proud of A&W for being that Light...for bringing Jesus into their everyday lives and interactions with people...<br /><br />One of W's was very recent. At my regular parent-teacher conference, his teacher tells me that she recently witnessed a whole little theological discussion between my W and two of his classmates that he sits between. One of his classmates is a little girl from Russia and one is a little boy from a family with Muslim background. I kind of knew something was up because W had told me one day that the little girl sitting next to him didn't believe God made us. Anyway, his teacher reported to me that she was waiting for them to ask her a question because she cannot initiate any sort of religious conversation but if they ask her, then she can talk about it with them. However, they never asked her a question. The three of them just talked about God and about Jesus and about their beliefs...and W knew what he believed and explained it to them very well. Way to go, son!<br /><br /><em>NOTE: THE FOLLOWING WAS WRITTEN WITH A's PERMISSION! SHE WANTED TO SHARE HER "STORY" IN HOPES IT WOULD HELP OTHERS BRING THINGS TO THE LIGHT.</em><br /><br />When I thought about A and the notion of "light" - a different aspect of "light" came to mind. One where she learned a tough lesson and I almost had a nervous breakdown. A went to church camp for the first time this summer - it was a Friday through Sunday camp - with other kids from church and our children's minister, Ms. Lesa. She had such an amazing time and came home very excited and on fire for Jesus...but as the days and weeks went by, I started noticing she was not sleeping well, she had dark circles under her eyes, she was really snippy and overly emotional and getting into way more trouble than usual. I knew something was brewing beneath the surface. I started worrying about her health - wondering if a dr.'s appointment was in order.<br /><br />Well, one day, I ask her about what's going on with her...her eyes get as big as saucers and she freaks out. I try to talk to her, to tell her that it's ok, that there is nothing she can't tell me and that I want to help her. She vehemently shakes her head and seals her lips. I ask questions - are you feeling ok? Does your head hurt? Did someone hurt your feelings? She starts to cry. She pulls me close and tells me she can't say it in front of anyone else.<br /><br />At this point, my mom-o-meter is going wild and I'm quite concerned. We go into my room, close the door, and get in my bed and snuggle up. She's visibly upset and struggling, I can see her chest about to explode...she's almost hyperventilating. I'm praying to myself because I was more than just a little freaked out. I could SEE and SENSE a battle going on inside of her. At this point, God gives me enough discernment to realize that it's spiritual, not physical. She cannot bring herself to talk at all, so I start asking questions again.<br /><br />"A, did something happen to you?" She shakes her head no.<br />"A, did someone hurt you?" She shakes her head no again. I'm confused.<br />"Well, A, what's going on, sweet girl? There's not anything you can't tell me. Nothing is going to change how I love you, you know that, right?" She looks at me sideways because she can't bring herself to make full eye contact, with tears in her eyes.<br />"Mom, I did something bad." Okay..... So guilt is the culprit. Whew. Got it.<br />"A, did you hurt someone?" She shakes her head yes.<br />"When did this happen?" She tells me "at church camp..."<br /><br />At that point, I was slightly relieved. I mean, how bad could it be at church camp? I hadn't heard any reports about it from our children's minister. Then I remembered church camp when I was growing up...dang. It might be bad.<br /><br />She continues to visibly struggle with talking to me...but I finally get out of her that she took a picture of something she shouldn't have. We had sent her a disposable camera to capture some memories of church camp...but hadn't gotten around to downloading them yet. Now I was slightly worried. Did she take a picture of someone taking a shower or something? My imagination starts running wild.<br /><br />Finally, it spills out of her...and when it did, it was just like she was throwing up. It just came spewing out and it hurt...but afterwards, she started feeling much better.<br /><br />She took a picture of Ms. Lesa's fully-clothed behind when she bent over to pick something up.... Ms. Lesa never knew it....And it's been eating her up ever since.<br /><br />While I had to REALLY struggle to keep it together and not laugh, I grabbed at the chance to make it a teachable moment...so we talked about how sin can just eat us up inside when we try to hide it, we are keeping it in the dark and it grows bigger and uglier and starts to rot, but when we confess it and bring it out into the light, God can begin to heal it and he can put people in our life who can love us through it and it doesn't look as scary in the light. And God will use what we've been through to mold us and shape us and bring us closer to him - to give us a story of healing to help others when they are hurting. And we talked about maybe needing to confess to Ms. Lesa and ask forgiveness, too.<br /><br />And after her big confession, I went into the next room with Dear Hubby (after getting A's permission to share her story with her daddy) and laughed so hard that I cried as I tried to explain it to him...<br /><br />As I reflect back on A's experience with "light" this past year, though, I'm reminded not only of God's sense of humor but also of God's goodness - that He gave me an opportunity to share in this with my daughter...because since that time, A has brought it up several times and tells me again and again how God's light can wash away our sins and makes us feel brand new...and how hiding secrets in the dark can hurt us...and she always ends it with "And I know, Momma, because, I've felt it...remember? You know....don't make me say it."<br /><br />And A has given me permission to share her "story" so that others can see how a little "light" can go a long ways...kasogaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01821991754937771142noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1694274108469064058.post-52331557723088474582009-10-26T07:55:00.000-07:002009-10-26T11:25:05.478-07:00ParentingAs my daughter, A, gets older, I find myself asking myself some tough questions...like "SELF - are you doing your very best to create a relationship with your daughter where she feels the freedom to grow into who God made her to be?" or "SELF: are you creating an environment where she feels like she has to measure up to some impossible standard that her mother has created?"<br /><br />See, I have this "thing"...I set extremely high standards for myself - generally too high. If I can't do something perfect, I'd just rather not even try. When I was in college, going through my phase of figuring out everything wrong about my childhood and how my parents had screwed me up, I wanted to attribute that to my mother...I wanted to somehow blame her for making me feel like I had to be perfect. It wasn't until I had a daughter myself that I had to re-think my thought process.<br /><br />See, I do believe that parents make mistakes...and that all parents will screw up their kids in one way or another, no matter how hard we may try to do things perfectly (we just need to try to mitigate the damages as much as possible, folks!)...but as I attempt to parent a daughter in a time when it's just flat-out scary to be raising an almost "tween", I can see what a very thin line it is between teaching your daughter about responsibility and about creating this atmosphere of perfectionism. I'd say my mom & dad did a pretty good job on the responsibility side of that...but I struggle with perfectionism.<br /><br />As of late, I've been hyping myself up to start opening up doors of communication with her NOW (at age 8) about boys and relationships and yes, sex. I've been looking for opportunities to set the stage for later. Been doing my research, reading some great books on the subject..but one general theme has been that you teach your kids responsibility and respect from a VERY young age so that when they enter their tween and teen years, their attitude about their bodies and about sex INCLUDES this idea of responsibility and respect.<br /><br />As I read this, I thought "YES!!!! We are doing something right!" I have been obsessed with teaching my kids about responsibility since they were old enough to walk...picking up after themselves, clearing their place at the table, loading their own dishes into the dishwasher, helping with supper, putting things in their proper places, having their assigned chores, doing homework before they go out to play. Oh, believe me, we fail on a daily basis in some form or fashion, but we talk about it and we try. The one place I have yet to get it thru their heads that "I'm not a maid, I'm a mom" is in their bathroom, but I digress....<br /><br />Are we doing something right or are we contributing to issues with perfectionism?<br /><br />On a typical day, I find myself getting on to A alot more than I would like - to come pick up her shoes she left right smack in the middle of the kitchen floor, to pick up her homework folder and put it in her backpack, to come either finish or clean up some random art project she started and then left out on the table, to bring me back my hairbrush that she borrowed, to put things away rather than just shoving them all under her bed...I have written before how A has this little GT kid personality that is SO outside of the box, and I know it. I know it's part of who she is - that when she is done thinking about something, she moves on...it's almost like she's scatterbrained, but she's not. Hard to explain.<br /><br />My struggle is where is the line between teaching her responsibility and creating an environment where she thinks she has to be perfect? At what point am I putting up walls between us that's going to come back to bite me later? Am I making her feel like she's less than perfect? I'm sure I am...but is that a good thing or a bad thing? (I mean, "nobody's perfect" is good to know, right? Hannah Montana says so.) I want her to know that I'm the person who will ALWAYS be there for her, that will always be in her corner. I want her to feel comfortable talking to me when she makes mistakes, and yet, at the same time, I'm the person who is having to POINT OUT her mistakes right now, which does not go very far in making her want to TELL me when she messes up. Get my point?<br /><br />And to top it all off, W is generally a very responsible 6 year old. He's the kid who always puts his shoes right by the front door so he can find them when he needs them. I don't have to get on to him as much as I do A because he just naturally likes order. He puts his homework folder back in his backpack as soon as he is done. I'm not saying he's perfect - he's not. But in any given day, I'd say I have to address these kinds of issues with A at least five times more than I do with W. Wouldn't it be unfair to expect W to do some things and NOT expect the same from A? And how does the whole idea of A being a girl and the self-esteem issues girls deal with play into all of this?<br /><br />I am so not ready for a 'tween.kasogaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01821991754937771142noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1694274108469064058.post-80631880303022580642009-10-12T09:17:00.000-07:002009-10-12T09:51:48.736-07:00Bah-HumbugHere it is not even Halloween yet and I'm stressing about Christmas. I made the mistake of writing down all of the presents I have to buy (with good intentions of getting a head start on my Christmas shopping and looking for bargains!) and, while I was at it, I decided to see how much money this was going to set me back so I'd have an idea of how much I'd need to save each month towards this goal. <br /><br />Big mistake, HUGE. (can anyone name that movie? Come on, CB..we only watched it like a thousand times in college)<br /><br />Now I'm officially stressing. <br /><br />Here's the deal - there are some gifts I LOVE to give. I mean, I spend alot of time thinking it through and picking just the right ones and then I just get giddy over watching them open them. Then there are those gifts I just feel obligated to buy because "it's what we've always done" and it's tradition and if I didn't buy those gifts, then the message I'm sending is I don't care about that particular person. Not true, but that's what is perceived. So, year in and year out, I give out of guilt.<br /><br />Yesterday, I was helping my elementary Sunday school class with their memory verse from last week so they could pick a prize from the prize bucket. The memory verse was 2 Corinthians 9:7<br /><br />"Each man should give what he has decided in his heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver." (NIV)<br /><br />As my little 1st and 2nd graders are trying to pronounce "reluctantly" - it came out more sounding like re-luck-ant-bee - I stopped and asked if anyone knew what "not reluctantly or under compulsion" meant...no takers. So I tried putting it in the language a 6 or 7 year old would get...so here's what came out of my mouth:<br /><br />"Reluctantly is like you are saying "awww...I guess I'll give if I have to..I don't really want to, but I guess I'll do it anyways." (complete with whiny voice and slouching shoulders)<br /><br />"Compulsion is like someone holds a gun at you and tells you that you have to give - so you do it but you do it because someone else makes you, not because you want to."<br /><br />My Sunday school kids nodded their heads and gave a cheer for giving with a cheerful heart...and then we moved on to this week's lesson...<br /><br />But I have been thinking non-stop about what I was supposed to be teaching them since yesterday. And then I did the whole Christmas list thing...and now I find myself again face to face with one of the demons I fight in my life constantly - GUILT. Guilt has been the topic God has been throwing at me for the last 6 months or so....and here it raises its ugly head yet again. Am I giving gifts out of guilt? Am I doing it reluctantly or under compulsion by some perceived notion in my head or from society? The thing is, I dearly love all of the people on my Christmas list (if you happen to be on it and reading this, that's the truth!!!) but I have been giving gifts out of guilt. I want to be free from guilt. Believe me, it affects me in every area of my life, not just Christmas lists. <br /><br />I don't want Christmas to be that time of year when I turn into "Scrooge" because I resent the cost or the time it takes to give.<br /><br />I want to give with great gusto and with a cheer rising out of my heart. <br /><br />I want to be free from Christmas guilt and all guilt forever.<br /><br />And I want my kids to really get what Christmas is about.<br /><br />So - anyone with ideas, the floor is now open. Do I ask God for an attitude adjustment and to show me how to give with a cheerful heart? Do I make some major changes to my holiday shopping list? I need to find the right balance for me and my family while still navigating the treacherous waters of extended family traditions - the last thing I want to do is hurt someone's feelings.kasogaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01821991754937771142noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1694274108469064058.post-81265607316659705162009-08-30T05:29:00.000-07:002009-08-30T16:07:14.724-07:00Most Likely to Save the World<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375735613849539074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 242px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtp6QpU6_L50Q5IPU1HbpXhA7ndkbj9twjzyJjJoO8cEaW9LYqZtf9huMX4D2vEcWZcyPA3ct1yELiHDvj4h7Ggm6gvcFl7xypvtjvAdys2hT9DzAUww-x69TVx34LX02ERzwjS5OUDxaF/s320/DSC00001.jpg" border="0" /> <span style="font-size:130%;">What a busy weekend...my dear sweet A turned 8 years old yesterday. Wait. Is that right? Let's see, she was born in 2001....so, yep, that's it. She's 8 YEARS OLD!!! Yikes...<br /></span><br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375753229027572594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 290px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIpe2OUeuME4yUeJC8K-c1TPVjq4B5ily2qxmvNziUYwSz7XFvJvOra1tz-jldMGR8tmg_pCFJkTqIgDJ5n8OzF-DpHhDJ4ahBUOqr1ZzycIM-apyHgM10Q6Ch9zpTA7o0KQqOtOOvpnOI/s320/PicFromKacey.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div></div><span style="font-size:130%;">So, just for A, a little letter from her momma (yes, I'm still momma, but I'm expecting it to become "mom" or "mother" any day now. )</span></div><br /><div></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;">A -</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;">Life with you is ALWAYS an adventure. You have definitely kept me on my toes these past 8 years and I'm sure you will keep things interesting for many many years to come. From the minute you were born, you wanted everyone to know you were here and that you love life. You, my sweet girl, are not a wallflower, like your momma. You are an extrovert, just like your daddy. You like attention, just like your daddy. You have so much life and so much love for all things God created inside of you. I've written before about how you just have this "thing" about you that for the longest time I couldn't quite describe until </span><a href="http://kasogayle.blogspot.com/2008/04/how-can-i-keep-from-singing.html"><span style="font-size:130%;">God_showed_me_what_it_was</span></a><span style="font-size:130%;">. You dance through every single part of your life with a song in your heart. You have such a ZEAL for life. You often make me wonder where my zeal went! :)</span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375741896076628162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 315px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0vQPtr66YxXmK4_hhH9qiG-bzDvKHGY6k8nQafKDwDwR6WTRwSHye6j8uyKAk_oQVKVesiCOTslF9MBIuOQi0-OjZIQyr1-8M1Rdfeu5aERv5Gah_hWVCZJ9Kg1v4N3wlwf1wlj3pCWZW/s320/DSC00016.JPG" border="0" /></div><br /><div></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;">You are com-passionate and passionate about things you believe in, like saving the </span><a href="http://kasogayle.blogspot.com/2009/03/yea-earth-squad.html"><span style="font-size:130%;">Earth</span></a><span style="font-size:130%;"> or saving the </span><a href="http://kasogayle.blogspot.com/2008/10/saving-planet-one-fake-fur-coat-collar.html"><span style="font-size:130%;">animals</span></a><span style="font-size:130%;">. You are such a creative thinker - I don't think you will ever be able to think "inside the box" - all you know is outside of it. Boxes, schmoxes...you don't need no stinkin' boxes. :) Every so often, you and I butt heads over this one, because I like the boxes and I like the rules....in my world, you must follow the rules, color inside the lines, follow instructions. In your world, rules and lines are optional and instructions are mere guidelines. </span></div><div></div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375741907732102226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrK79FCTqssSUMke_BBstXIx3T5dIE_-i6u1JIHXchwuURznyyBw-Bph5QkQRnVTmOocFcu_pUKFjXLyB5vRVQB8B7ve2vzPYswlPmSJfa_FNKKZWcg0Ptz5Iv-mgSK_WD5eQHQcC2QVzB/s320/Picture+057.jpg" border="0" /></div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375741892092450354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk02bpXYJLdpaOIgZgxK3RvqdWPIU5857-PIXVFNUdGttYuymV2pe6PkqEonPv9NetZubhMP7L8KeY3JU-BFKdTUq2z8KHd6wpX7Y6StS8bbJmdF4mDtx333cXcBvWLXxXEnNH5DAJqjRn/s320/Summer+2009+509.JPG" border="0" /></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;">Your mind is always working. It tires me out, girl. I am constantly answering questions or sending you to the computer to look up the answer to your questions. And if it's not a scientific question, then it's something like "Mom, what was your favorite vegetable when you were a kid?" or "Mom, if you had all the money in the world, what would you do with it?" or "Mom, which is your favorite finger on your right hand?" You think I'm kidding. You have asked me all 3 of these questions within the past 24 hours. And, because your mind is always working, you have this tendency to just drop things right where they are because your mind has moved on to something else...we battle over this one - I'm constantly telling you "OHIO - only handle it once!" but that's really a hard thing for you because by the time you pick up your shoes and head to your closet to put them away, you get distracted by something else, so your shoes end up in the middle of the hall floor or in the bathroom or who knows where.</span> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375735633641058898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG8mznB6nFsaVWehHaXfTKuCQxgUX5OMAV8NFdNjGoOq4dfdPDIcfcswqUvf76yvLY77Kbu7hu01E-fAle6NP3Dt0cExMn6uvC_lqUuZJ3iIJb6rqSlsAHD1YxnqDsN13EZMPbDeskob9G/s320/2004_0905Image0020.JPG" border="0" /></div><div></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;">Your interests right now revolve around science (which explains why an 8 year old girl owns a microscope and a telescope, 2 bearded dragons who like to go on </span><a href="http://kasogayle.blogspot.com/2009/04/3-week-escape.html"><span style="font-size:130%;">adventures</span></a><span style="font-size:130%;">, 3 fire bellied toads, and actually enjoys the non-fiction book section of the library), music (SuperChick, Barlow Girls, Misty Edwards, some Radio Disney stuff, Decypher Down, just to name a few -plus playing the piano), dancing, and art. You love to read, to write songs or poems, and to play with any toys that let you use your imagination.</span></div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375741901843542514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf7v3cQ37ynx5lWncHXDrox-YAOuWEe-zmXlaeb4RR8fNthUYQVRqFAwwV2P1s7rkazFdFYcn81olnAqADNyVjpbCwYGM9K1V3zzEHgZLp1fOTa8tTM5b8vWz881NipsXR2gS-bjR53FNm/s320/DSCF4770.JPG" border="0" /></div><div></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;">You make friends easily. I mean, if you see them and they will talk back to you, then they are your friend. You just love people. You love being around them and you love on them with a love that comes from someone other than you - it comes from Jesus in your heart. A very precious, very kind heart.</span><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375753220383003490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6_-GCNV7nYDkxGNvHL4O5i03jsKdJ5lcn_jxuWyjh8XGWWYe24mJb3pQcLB9-mFrV4gEZ-_ubPiND1iMOu7vRhgI7fChMf_zMWnmLbHq1_GDHtexvqzJrc09m5yhBl7tu0mvONBIevsMd/s320/August+2009+032.JPG" border="0" /></div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375741882712410466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVaZT1o5h8o4IQfN8ERWtSAe9FL9siCi4Wq-0Dc41MkzMA-nxIqFbht-ZwldMGRKMboRafC5OLvqH-lDwaOQP5JlpteDfrACNsLbGzISjzjirCl4dbINqTLmpzb6O9FhG8g1GOmJZG_Cvb/s320/August+2009+047.JPG" border="0" /></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;">I know, A, that sometimes I'm hard on you...sometimes I push you a little harder or expect a little more from you than I do your brother. I'm learning, too. But, in my defense, it's because I think you are amazing. You have this t-shirt that was actually passed down to you from your cousin, Claire...but it says "Most Likely to Save the World" - that's how I see you, A. That's what I see in you. God has made you just like you are and He is going to use you and all of your zeal and passion. Just wait and see.</span><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375753958902086850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwPNydnsasr9AvXrQRNwL39AuvDUDq0mFxlmdSbjxaT1fZBYzAjuXxZKSTb7e_r_Ww6pEmkyWyxKmmhWyFn1QtMzJwAb09h7pwNkbKlnrRpP6bFiHVeDK7uRETSdZj_rwOftzTdLLNDtnr/s320/May+2009+099.JPG" border="0" /></div><div><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Happy birthday, A. I love you like crazy.<br /><br /></span><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375753236775225218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYfZLgktuqi4DZR_ZqA62ER6v6zquCnZ7chRvwxlQ5FU6MLzhSNccI5ImCCG5n-Wl1DHyj2XvpsFT9vZtppVjDY_BwX1dwjd_Ad2hDAsDw64LswX07l7sZk8pdgAcuhDWE68Pla4C62HfK/s320/May+2009+098.JPG" border="0" /><br /></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>kasogaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01821991754937771142noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1694274108469064058.post-49462117700402184852009-08-17T13:48:00.001-07:002009-08-17T14:06:42.828-07:00Purpose<div align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:180%;">"What is your purpose?"</span></div><br />For the record, I always dread that question, and it tends to come up every year or so in church or in small groups...."What is your purpose?"<br /><br />My purpose is simple, right? We (being the human race) were created to worship and be in a relationship with God, right? Right. Simple enough.<br /><br />But, alas, that generally does not get me out of it. It is inevitable followed up with "Ok - but what is YOUR specific purpose in God's kingdom?" Why did God make ME? He made me with specific gifts and with certain passions for a reason. I've experienced things in life that have also helped to mold me into who I am and can be used towards my "purpose"...so what the heck is that purpose? Does anyone ever REALLY know this answer? I mean, really? How do you take all of this stuff, mash it all together, and BAM - there's your purpose?<br /><br />I've taken all of the tests, read a few books along the way...still don't know the answer.<br /><br />Is my purpose to be "mom" to A&W and to teach them what they need to know about this world, about life, and about our heavenly father so that they can grow up and fulfill their "purpose", whatever that may be?<br /><br />Is my purpose to be wife to my Dear Hubby, to grow with him, to stand behind him in support of his ministry?<br /><br />Is my purpose somehow tied up in this crazy career I have as attorney at law? Or am I off-track and need to again seek God's will in where I am supposed to be?<br /><br />Is my purpose to be a good friend, a good daughter, a good sister or aunt?<br /><br />Here I am 34 years old - been at my current job for 9 1/2 years - mother of 2, married 11 years. - and I still can't say with any degree of certainty what my God-created purpose is. I think all of this is a part of it, but God still hasn't given me that big billboard that I requested that tells me exactly what I need to do or what my purpose is - these little pieces of the puzzle are great but I can't see the big picture, so I just keep plugging along, waiting for my "AHA!" moment.<br /><br />So, Phil, when you ask in church if we know what our purpose is, I cringe. Maybe I'm too much of a detail person. Maybe I need to know specifics, God. Have you gone into the billboard business yet? If not, maybe a nice email would do.kasogaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01821991754937771142noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1694274108469064058.post-88186971967445584372009-08-10T06:52:00.000-07:002009-08-10T07:02:25.505-07:00That Jesus Guy is Pretty Awesome...Sundays are always a hoot around our house...but on this Sunday afternoon, after an awesome morning in worship and fellowship, I had to finish painting...I had started painting my bathroom on Saturday and not finished...so here I was, delicately balanced over my bathtub, trying to reach some pretty unreachable places when in walks A....<br /><br />That morning in Sunday School, A&W had talked about the creation story in Genesis. So this particular afternoon, it was still on her mind and so she was doing some follow-up research. That led her to the story of Noah and the ark. <br /><br />"Mom! Did you know the Bible says God told Noah to take 7 of each CLEAN animal and 2 of each unclean animal? Not just 2 of everything..."<br /><br />"That's right. The extra clean animals were so that Noah and his family could make the required sacrifices. Did you know that, in the Old Testament, before Jesus died for our sins on the cross, that people would have to sacrifice animals in order to ask for forgiveness of those sins?"<br /><br />Eyes wide, A says "You mean kill them?"<br /><br />"Yes. Aren't we even more grateful that Jesus died for our sins? Isn't that cool?"<br /><br />"So we would have to kill Rosie?"<br /><br />"Well, not dogs. Usually sheep or goats"<br /><br />And then, there it is. "So Jesus saved all the animals!!!! Jesus loves the animals, too!" So, there you have it - Jesus was not only the savior of the world and the son of God, but he was the very first animal lover as well...A's pretty darn sure he never wore a <a href="http://kasogayle.blogspot.com/2008_10_01_archive.html">coat_with_a_fake_fur_collar</a>, either.<br /><br />Yes, my darling hippie child. Jesus loved the animals...and, by the way, he loves us too.kasogaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01821991754937771142noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1694274108469064058.post-62193049422734600722009-07-27T19:24:00.000-07:002009-07-27T19:42:30.517-07:00Brains vc. BrawnLately I've been struggling with the fact that my kids are growing up as "city kids" - complete with the attitudes of city kids. Now don't get me wrong, my kids are fantastic. They are really good, for the most part, but every now and then, I find myself wondering if I'm raising a couple of wienies who can't stand getting dirty or being uncomfortable for more than 5 minutes.<br /><br />My childhood was so different from theirs. I grew up on a cotton farm. For as long as I can remember, I spent my summers in the field. Before I started school, I played in the dirt on the turnrows while my 2 older brothers and parents hoed. Once I started school, then I was old enough to hoe my own rows, so I walked the cotton field with a hoe in my hand, chopping up weeds. During harvesting, I "tromped" cotton with my brothers - this was in the days before module builders so you had to physically mash all of the cotton you could into the trailers. You did this by jumping up and down on it - or "tromping" it. <br /><br />I just remember it as a part of life - I didn't get paid for the work I did, it was expected as part of the family. I didn't have the opportunity to say "no" to going to the field. It never would have occurred to me, honestly. Some of my best memories are in the cotton field - chasing rabbits, catching lizards, singing silly songs. Yeah, it was hot and there were bugs and it was uncomfortable, but I never died. I survived it. And today I feel like I'm a stronger person for having grown up on a farm.<br /><br />So when I think about my kids' life, I want them to have some of that. I want them to have a good work ethic. I want them to be strong in character. This week, they are at Grandma and Poppa's on the farm. I told my mom to take them to the field with them, to make them work and, heaven forbid, get a little uncomfortable. Of course, Grandma can't do that to those kids! Oh yes she can. <br /><br />So as I'm talking to A about it - she tells me she doesn't want to go to the field. I tell her it's an opportunity to do something she's never done before, a chance to help Poppa with his crops, I tell her about all of the animals she might see. Still, Resistance. Whining. Squirming. Complaining. And she hasn't even stepped foot in the field yet. I tell her that going to the field will make her a stronger person.<br /><br />She looks right at me and says "I don't want to be strong, I want to be smart." DOH!<br /><br />I tell her she can be both! That she comes from a long line of strong women and she'd better just get used to being strong. Again, she tells me she'll be smart instead.<br /><br />Finally, I pull out the big guns - I tell her that if I hear that she refused to go to the field, that she whined and complained, that she didn't work when asked to, then there would be no TV for the rest of the summer. <br /><br />Resistance is Futile. Mom wins again.kasogaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01821991754937771142noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1694274108469064058.post-40917064731342931332009-07-12T16:57:00.001-07:002009-07-12T18:18:03.447-07:00Planes, no Trains, Automobiles, and few Roller Coasters<div align="center"> So, settling back into life after our crazy, fantastic trip to San Diego...it was our very first attempt at a full-fledged vacation with the kids where we flew, rented a car, and stayed in hotels...and, despite all of my pessimism going into it, it was awesome!!! I have to say, I was so proud of my kids...even though they had to be exhausted (if how I felt was any measure), they kept their bad attitudes in check, there was little sibling in-fighting, and the trip was really really great...<br /></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">SO - while there, we saw La Jolla Cove amd the sea lions, the San Diego Zoo, Sea World San Diego, the USS Midway, took a harbor tour, spent an afternoon at Coronado Island on the beach, and spent 2 days at Legoland...and had an amazing time!!!</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">Here are a few of my favorite pics from the adventures...</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357729868244049138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOFLNrYZ47aV6G6elEs1oLFdkguxuEXHR5dXm17ZhqP1SKbWoID3e5El39Qsew1D_B8Ck3mP-vs2viTRdByMUzSueYzHtxfsI6h1L5P0bxoGv08Pp5YtV5tiwltVscA9I2uqh98Gnzebdq/s320/Summer+2009+085.JPG" border="0" /> First airplane ride for both of my kids...we got to fly over the Grand Canyon and saw it from 28,000 feet!!!<br /></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357742159633752802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqi5Acwtb8A6dHXjiMV6iGQXf-XP6JjFw4wTeeXhe9prK8ZpkCM0JWDDxvR081Kkjona0c23R-E0Ox7OKynbqG6yZvXrRHytClTmPpwt2RD2RaWPI9xORP8Oa7Jkcz9H-uGTqNb0j2mqOf/s320/Summer+2009+121.JPG" border="0" />First ocean experience for either of my kids....neither had ever even seen one before, much less put their feet into it...this was by far my favorite part of the trip - watching their faces and seeing the joy and wonder in their eyes as they tried to wrap their brains around how HUGE and mysterious the ocean is...<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357729876730949570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDpvCTv5acO-SnTEXk4H0x8XmPV81QzOatYBT8-uMu3SAnjWvVA9G6uqCyMBBqB0aikscia5wxIt5SozKhLHwESJ8NraVB13Qf65hm2Jc1LLVLELAMth9fnL5vnc6gYGmsCZsLGKzFgWyb/s320/Summer+2009+103.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357729878771197522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisRBW2QtkES47y-hI89-qG4EpKR01wteVndS0TwpUJ5qXpuVgm9Nt80-TrJw07OgrxzQzEORJAJDwgudrh42XJD9Ft5eslJpp5Ehy26_fxS4Im-3m5koV7qXPTUKJjEWEgotdWi3Bhoip7/s320/Summer+2009+114.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357729898507946514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQdQJgNoG2JEzy28i4Ge0Tq-bY0UpHYbOW34jOmZ5U9lOTTqr-mZO1YfrJf5kueSXLzUKuESGINAy_E4pBDToe-U6ILhyphenhyphen8VLdUzb9pkXuRknhQkvoftBPyMl5gFY1v2TjXjC5IHRRoZWfE/s320/Summer+2009+157.JPG" border="0" /> Getting REALLY up close and personal with a hippo at the zoo....</div><div align="center"><br /><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357733083204174706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXIw6zILdjb5bMGmY-mF2FmC7pwZqj6N-ds9IsbXnttyCZY3P1iZMnHkycdOu8lM8OD2U70GF7mbiAxtqpeJFlhx0jQMKyVXt5O2Jag26mFRprz41lUXHEixUS6LUSEMRLSp-IShrxr528/s320/Summer+2009+247.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center">Sitting in the "Soak Zone" at Shamu's show yet somehow not getting soaked!!!<br /></p><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357733086749213458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSbOZhB8zHRN9QvBvsE742IKY6x52l3sz9iI7ZZHVFxRnI_O3c8aHkM3N86d5zoZwGk_hqbpMJuvy6RVYnkYAqPCmrb1l4sTsFj-CtB-Aks51_GAlnCdsKsuSZrgJDyzl1tA3FOINsQGzc/s320/Summer+2009+330.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center">We were able to tour the USS Midway - a naval aircraft carrier made into a museum. The kids loved being able to get up into some of the airplanes and pretending to fly....By the time we left there, it was "Captain W" and "Commander A"....<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357733102665814226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh70BFStMKhzgoqoY7FvqkogfZC9wwCctKteVuO8nHL5pLjV9xx4VHyPpAxRihoe5F7bl4_VqzCnyKDgS8iyomyyCCRQ153We3OZwD8DzSQ3YmWc0z5uHTpXCQtb2wr6zWci9P5GkETTCxw/s320/Summer+2009+362.JPG" border="0" /></p><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357745259067843970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu6d4QACSLVkfYuUXbe1OT-VBCVd2pGRHIJYbM_Pf15mvpN8tBvjB3PpOvKNkZ7L9QVdaErG4HDw-vrVs9V5axcsgtBP3GJcqzrNoclC1KcexcfwWuu98I_g6_W8PjV5LGnk8igrpSGBVC/s320/Summer+2009+333.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div align="center">Some good beach time on Coronado Island...A must have walked up and down the beach a dozen times, retrieving every shell she could find...the water was really cold but this was a blast..with the exception of the seagulls who decided to eat all of our potato chips while we walked on the beach..and then, after I chased them away, they continued to stalk us for the rest of the afternoon, just hoping for a treat..</div><br /><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357736972510214658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCeUo61IU5FBoOPdCW6uO76E1ouoYK-DAVsi7oWJS5Ad24PDRzFkHO36SKb6KTjZVhvjBEqOM2ISLP7ePwSgzTcUd8TJehzazgOfgGOC8YHjXp-LKihrxXVOoHSt6sYzhxo8-VXXmZgDnZ/s320/Summer+2009+487.JPG" border="0" />Some good swim time at the resort's pool...a nice, heated 82 degree pool....much warmer than the ocean!</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">And, last, but certainly not least - LEGOLAND!!! The kids LOVED this place...and you cannot even dream in your wildest imagination all of the things that were made out of legos there...no joke. Here are a few samples...</div><br /><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357736967444155458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK1qSGgf-SP5WZuKYyJrwaYszRDGyU91NnkV7PHoIjiX8CRPxQLwG9egOc7nLTGZQfG4JvoXDxK2FB0BMwObNbUb-BcHPJkWzngP8swkXtEm1hLSWqgVYB09TiiEJKaEiz8IBDnD7qc-XM/s320/Summer+2009+470.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357733104668758194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu57YZVPwxS9ix2Ep38GO6Qph0v_vXefCXEmfCmM1PQqYynZaUPvRIFDhoLy5q82snZiZi0jqf96qgWaLRcvK4IVi25vOKt-Qgbx382dTLl0qclp7Cq4PTLnD3jRcp3_0YnabzcgkfyQJ0/s320/Summer+2009+376.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357736960844598722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKogBU_9zBxIYQbjhIKnHPavJMVhvV5RncjsNtrrtbhQDh3KoqsBjrRmSgD3NLErx2OaJf5NJuoSQjlDNDzwR5snC3cLzoRkHYc1uj-nocZirfS74eQJ8CKfeD7FimyXjr1z01F4pLJm7Z/s320/Summer+2009+381.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357736953159862834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzu3381Xuyn7HoDtAswUegbnWg9WJxXXap4qGAiFoKh7jQIe1HciaxjfFbUsKWh0Scpz7ZeomDsB7GnCXztNlhVZ3m3axwMib7Fbh67kY6Tn0CqJ1nNEyYYstiCatAE5t7xnZ-_Yk6e1CN/s320/Summer+2009+380.JPG" border="0" />Anyone who knows W well at all knows that he is all about Star Wars...afterall, he is an official <a href="http://kasogayle.blogspot.com/2008/04/force-is-strong-in-this-one.html">Jedi Knight!</a></div><div align="center"> </div><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357736943785326434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzRCROjLc5VlC4r1Xb6Rh9PI2oj9xmkF9aZ_ZynfUlslF4JLWYx_qXLhqBdKtzEUsmCXfL4yqJo1b91BtsJSfetmm-pa5GToFR7-VX7wY8S8vEradf_sPYQsR9SZIs3_AO29mUoPFEQ20-/s320/Summer+2009+404.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p align="center">Dad was a bit worn out by all of the adventures..so he found this nice Lego Man to take a nap next to... :)</p>kasogaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01821991754937771142noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1694274108469064058.post-56657557936301357662009-06-27T08:19:00.001-07:002009-06-27T08:19:22.106-07:00Here we go!<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF_8shdHbj1IxTxp63bAHaA-S5ZZEitwfUw1Js985dPRfNKnQcE5A7TpakeS7msNvMOeeI1rxR40dCiFN02vMBS-Nnm2gi6geup1qhHlze3UvgP3HSHu7BK_5-3n-gs_dBIk5lQOccXZzJ/s1600-h/photo-762107.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF_8shdHbj1IxTxp63bAHaA-S5ZZEitwfUw1Js985dPRfNKnQcE5A7TpakeS7msNvMOeeI1rxR40dCiFN02vMBS-Nnm2gi6geup1qhHlze3UvgP3HSHu7BK_5-3n-gs_dBIk5lQOccXZzJ/s320/photo-762107.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352027306696148370" /></a></p>And we are off!!! First plane ride for Abby and Will! San Diego here <br>we come!!!kasogaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01821991754937771142noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1694274108469064058.post-30669965629686499942009-05-31T05:35:00.001-07:002009-05-31T06:02:31.136-07:00What a weekend<div> 3 graduations in 2 days....whew! Lots of time on the road, but we made it!!!<br /><div><div><br /><div align="center">It all started on Thursday morning at 8:15 am - W's kinder graduation. Bittersweet for Mom, but an awesome celebration for W....</div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341967009039441154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxV2OKV_c0ut9MMLlC-TA6QezS2_0T9ru50dCFRqsbk6MtpoYJ43TDCIMWLL-5GjVogZI0YlDopFocbXTETNxzScpVsml1IeVGu0N5nqZ5tcTlttJo9yLCs1sH7nh2zWtDvwB60iou5qiX/s320/May+2009+003.JPG" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341967016127215314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqXSH0SOy39LxVvlCihvh23UJqzYKNMATNfkzscSbGM06N3dHN0FvWOwTTIoW-12CuSYOcZgAHVZ3lSGN7ToDPABARmXYiRY_OoMeNwU5jdTNvM9N6005IuHV-0wA5Dh3R0bXj3wMcDtW8/s320/May+2009+011.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341967022714457010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEsyQbkSetcYWkXu32pEF97XoSmFBv6QxwsxEJoN5KceO-A4eQyezgg8328jkLyx0vrnSk3eZ3JcnrbfhDHYOVT60cSTBEtuHaMasDbcxos8RKewOHqRfRNliZENjIp23BFZLLKSxHEuEm/s320/May+2009+006.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div>Then, on Thursday night, one of my gorgeous nieces, Loo, graduated from 8th grade. Yes, I realize most schools don't still have 8th grade graduations, but Loo lives in a small town and they still do...and it's important. So we went. She looked beautiful, even though my mom couldn't believe she paid money to get her hair to looked all messed up. :) It's the style, Grandma, it's the style.</div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341967875639509394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGQtXERcr_FBXt93D-tG5X_xHacfAm4bPBDv2zDjRE7Qx1-CmZg_iA2YRwoe9AFzQCDFGw0yZQ71fwuEac5q9S24SagmK_4i1cQYFJiRAMZ3Sdo96cBszBnpL-QEDCu5xY2kmcBk9EIwN0/s320/May+2009+031.JPG" border="0" /> TuTu and Loo, my graduating nieces!<br /><br /><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341967884140874802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju2wJqayUQliTwvYt2IRLYplkAk2Se1EsI1qewleXIetsiLmtxLYckWk014XHABUGHgepfzb552rCM2_xaW-hFP8mFL5GM7Gr-gFrnAw2iSrJnI-vn_F_lgsLDAYy1iBx0q08VrKadpfHL/s320/May+2009+029.JPG" border="0" /> Sorry about the closed eyes pic, Loo!<br /><br /><br /><div>Finally, on Friday night - the main event. My oldest niece, TuTu, graduated from high school. I've written about TuTu before <a href="http://kasogayle.blogspot.com/2008/06/this-week-dear-hubby-is-out-of-town.html#links">here</a> and <a href="http://kasogayle.blogspot.com/2008/06/update-on-last-post.html">here.</a> She is a beautiful, tenderhearted, amazing young woman who I have lots of fun with and love with all that is in me. I was only 16 years old when she was born and have LOVED being her aunt..she'll be attending college at South Plains first and then on to Tech, so my hope is we will see LOTS more of her. :) </div><br /><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341969479640722226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaEAsdAlNdTcfucms6320SPWxRGmwkOOuPKY7hgrqCLsLkvIB6BlnX77mzOx_zAT9g8nXy8dkPQC7MLhrNID6xzp98nqcHu3ri5zqZZX6mNiQD4dBSQCXRSy7W9BlU_g594Z6GXMGBuI2Q/s320/May+2009+082.JPG" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341969486377673634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_sCTIznp0R964HAo-LGZPz4PRcgzW15_oBnJpXVyHG4sOJGGRIZSjEn1tt-gIpA69IwBgqZNpO7YBIGaBs5-N8u2Rcan3OFog1V8iMNkGiEW9fci8ZyHgXZiXxLu-mL5bqteaKHzSdqa9/s320/May+2009+087.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><p align="center">This is K'Did, TuTu, and Loo - my 3 oldest nieces. I have one more, Kylee M, who is not in this pic!<br /></p><div>Throw in a couple of end of school party's (A Luau for A and a good old fashioned cook out for W) and it was one celebratory weekend. I, unfortunately, had to work during the school parties, but Dear Hubby pinch-hit and managed to come out looking like Dad of the Year, I'm sure. :) </div><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341971666642044018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHlWC9UPo3FtysZcwVTYjorhsOlTlhJ3Trr0yekqMynxFnLtwBAY51gyHGYQAiOi88sHFJLSy95nUilKilzbhUX0CG6CcqRDhgHfKGJWcEdqzWaf6CdrAYEzhEwhc-FfLQ-XH7hxdl38e5/s320/May+2009+059.JPG" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341971672123041458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9tcrk-CW1CxgIY4FqJH1noggJnAJLwYcdSI27hGr4Q2KalhPvlyJFITdCVqqUiA8J_qmCHAPn8QBknhzqWYCJyN-1faLJLcKWNGagJ7FmGqIRJDBFvHqhFbU79_gDjH6tE6aHs_0NIbpS/s320/May+2009+062.JPG" border="0" /> <div></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341971678355179410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-cSwG_LP6iVZL8r6a-2ATW3Of0bZo4EsOpkhfpX-6OgjW2cg15OVyMkc9mky4h6rpAxBFSAYC7X24JaKhkhp3jxVjxo0rArc4rmhkAn5FNOgvOdAMa3KjlyCJXiqAGTO8K8NGvEq9VYM2/s320/May+2009+054.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341971676736718530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqo8onJVIK9pAxpcESRfRBKbr-zn9nKTyMZtLN-DlEy1UWqAP74APX-mxqFX0AOE_Bbc_LJQU-puGLYl0ARdw2PUa-wtTx42d4ACFm2FJqKOzww6oqNX1SpbvU84bKyctpphtV6RYJeS2I/s320/May+2009+050.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div></div>Oh, and today is promotion Sunday, W moves up to the elementary class...and then Dear Hubby and I get to sponsor a pizza party at Mr. Gatti's for the elementary girls children's church class for beating the boys in a class contest. Does the fun never end?<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div>kasogaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01821991754937771142noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1694274108469064058.post-63698494817293522002009-05-13T09:04:00.001-07:002009-05-13T09:19:48.549-07:00FaceliftMy blog got a facelift!! Thanks to Becky at <a href="http://www.cheesemyhead.blogspot.com/">CheeseMyHead</a> for the new look!!! She is one very talented momma! :) I told her I needed it to not be too girly, since the blog was about W, too, and that A is a future "save the world" kind of gal, not really all fru-fru and lace. Becky did a fabulous job.<br /><br />On to another kind of "facelift", I suppose....God has been really hammering and convicting me lately for not finding time to just "be" - for me to get away and just spend time in his presence. So many distractions!!! My husband claims I suffer from what he likes to call a "martyr" complex - trying to be all things to all people all of the time and then who I am gets lost in the shuffle somewhere, along with just being a child of God. I mean, it's not easy being wife, mom, daughter, sister, attorney-at-law, aunt, pastor's wife, friend all at the same time. I'm not complaining - ALL of us have so many different roles we fill...I just have let my role of "daughter of the King" kind of slip in the priority rankings. SO - a few things will be a'changin' in my life...I hesitate to even explain or write out loud what I'm doing because I am afraid I'll fail. I'm a wienie, I know, but I'm going to be a wienie who finds some "God" time. :) As I progress in this new little venture, maybe I'll share more.kasogaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01821991754937771142noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1694274108469064058.post-11659108665046934892009-04-28T06:52:00.000-07:002009-04-29T21:40:46.913-07:00Dear Will.I.Am<div align="center"><div align="center">Happy birthday, my sweet W!! 6 years old!! Craziness. Pure craziness. </div><div align="center"><br /> </div><div align="center">I mean, just yesterday you were the teeny tiny little 6 pound 6 oz. bundle of joy we took home from the hospital. </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330326508742411666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 282px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNm0qquddQ6C4aTd99fszcsx6hiUFI1BkMZ0_mm7O6z9G9L5ZLTTCfiiJfZyFZhGJhSxDB0OYnxc5juY0B_VvvpQ_0ixZQpAJB2YMxFlYIG6Mycjobggnv1p1sbvhY5t9Nsu0rYBQAisls/s320/DSC00021.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><div align="center">You were 9 months old, holding up your arms to me saying "hold you..."and then patting me on the back to reassure me you were actually holding me, too. </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330326929568881746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWuoRSoIJGZbrLGwOdLq3oYKa0yyuipaQVMFKU_Nhcur_dHIZTeg1K5N2KJgFqFRTYctEoBq8szSFBbZKfv4VhRa7iwUTXn6eGZpB9zJppna-sazkzNkAlCJmUgJT6Pw8Ebi91FcqAk83B/s320/2004_0526Image0004.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><div align="center">You were a 1 year old with your adorable "buddha" belly and 2 tooth grin. </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330327732086882738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpk0DM7iH2ZxeRjw-apykJEUZysW2OV83sNpUqLt9Q9S_jTpaJH9zBp9YJKhiLB2Un8OH1c4yvW0yyC4VlX6VX5tzq-QaYeK61D37pQVYclHPMPkQXdsc_91RgXUwj9I0KjLYFkh2bQRnN/s320/2004_0425Image0042.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br />You were 18 months old, making everyone crack up with your <a href="http://kasogayle.blogspot.com/2008/05/lions-tigers-and-bears-and-snakes-too.html">animal</a> sounds.<br /><br /><br />You were 2 years old and obsessed with all things "Melmo" and with <a href="http://kasogayle.blogspot.com/2008/04/laying-down-law.html">Blanket.</a><br /><p align="left"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330329310362803058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 241px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh8Fl7B_w8hC6RDXSh8hmH4TMLFNJDNDk5BT1j8Hcv1oNA-iRxyv6-bj-jQ8puAqYfiha6V_7C-a9YzoAqvYybRKPlIwuIPWLdiNfR4qGaQ1NzcAKiV8ZpOtebXVCPKk7s90VNQJBpLucS/s320/Party+003.jpg" border="0" /></p><p align="left"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330329078968758562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 303px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwgEipUEfUqMtse4ZyhNox9u7xR8_Dc0U-zodlDjD7IB26VeJuXnLvvkF3C8j-ppF6mVy5Tm9XJOsQf6Zmb4F-bt5gGMySNmbUqmoMHoAzLHxevrFmNmSnRQEn7LbUjldgfB6vv6egSgcU/s320/Sesame+Street+2005+003.jpg" border="0" /></p><br />You were 3 1/2 years old and STILL not potty-trained, instead making me and your daddy INSANE because of your stubborness. And yes, you started preschool (hey - don't ever tell the preschool director you weren't potty-trained when you started, ok? It was kinda sorta against the rules, just a little bit).<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330330168617743170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTQnUra7ZD8OSNvJ195iRDzqRN6GceOWIBNohsVQTvElGjF7DqwIBh7aJC_lJHyLyuIpKuzCjnL4tMCq2ChBPDpCvwijBlCPPjddPkkRtiMK3JT8aEVXVpyWWFwOu4s9vZL9pyNq_k2oxe/s320/SummerFall2006+040.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br />You were my young padawan who quickly grew into a real live <a href="http://kasogayle.blogspot.com/2008/04/force-is-strong-in-this-one.html">Jedi</a> Knight!<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330330711290691522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 241px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4syU4RyevOguyuvhaBP2I6tUKT24dBBGvuSGueVeJ0-rKaSRjkno5x6h0DcHdrYNvQN_I90IqUenYC6yRqrvhl5wsebIPcniEiCXb-CGyqDQUBrhhf6JFyxC3jrTf_C_fEipPT8lM0TGc/s320/Light+the+Night+2007+011.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br />And now, here we are at 6. <a href="http://kasogayle.blogspot.com/2008/08/day-i-wish-i-could-postpone.html">Kindergarten</a> is almost a thing of the past. You continually amaze me, my son. We start the year with hesitation and trepidation and anxiety....but you have taken this year and you have blossomed. You are stronger, wiser, you are more confident than ever before (even though you think your new bike that you got for your birthday goes too fast, even with training wheels...). You have a weird mix of a very structured little engineer type mind and this creativity that just floors me. You recently tested into our school district's gifted/talented program AS A KINDERGARTENER...a rarity, I'm told.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330336102559380850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWUCiYEhz2jDPzOD6R4xrpuSWi33lv_GB4LN6suFrDO9Z7qpLYKF37BwK97lEvovEI-YffmCwCNkP4eu17_FuSfltaFV9oshD-pz7JYRogoORbtshX5ex1vpI15hB0R2yVtjh3k2X8bt8/s320/Christmas+2008+008.JPG" border="0" /><br />You are a social magnet, I've decided. There is something about you that draws people, young and old, to you. And I am pretty darn sure that something is your heart...you love Jesus like a mad man. You continuously amaze your daddy and I with how in-tune you are with your Jesus and how it's just the norm for you and you don't see it as anything other than the ordinary. I won't ever forget the day you asked Jesus into your heart at 4 1/2 years old. I'm pretty darn sure you have some prophetic giftings in there that just pop up at the most extraordinary times. I've learned to listen carefully when you talk because God often uses you to give me a message.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330337096967026882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXMIYnaD44N7PXH0imitv0n_GggkLUpEhTq1b8XJe-H1DcxVGkKmT3Paa04fvFwL0FOUjoys1CDNDzKf4nLgwjLkqn9MOEa_rMgJFknTuGgepHAVriU4NGZmQb95E2QiSMeYMNR3PL390/s320/JanuaryFebruary09+107.JPG" border="0" /><br />You are obsessed with your Bible. You constantly have it open, reading as much as you can...and while you are only 6 and in kindergarten, you can read as well as most 2nd or 3rd graders. A few weeks ago, you announced to me that you had finished reading the WHOLE Bible. And it was awesome. :) Made me smile. While you may not have read every word in your Bible, I'm pretty darn sure you turned to almost every single page and at least stared at it awhile. Every now and then you'd announce to me "Mom, I'm in Numbers now...Mom!! It's Jonah!!...Mom, I'm in Izzy-ah (yes, Isaiah)..." And then there was the day where I heard from the back seat "Mom - it's HO-ZA!" I'm thinking, where in the world did he hear someone being called a "hoser?" What did you say, son? "Mom, right here in my Bible, it's HO-ZA!" Ah. Hosea. Yes it is.<br /><br /><br />You LOVE to get your worship groove on. During worship, you stand in your chair on the front row, jammin' out...raising your hand and telling your God how much HE ROCKS! Your favorite songs right now are "Counting on God" and "So Good to Me"...you worship with reckless abandon, which is so out of character for you...you are my cautious, anxious one normally. God's doing something in you, my son. I can see it.<br /><br /><br />And you have an inborn (inherited) love of justice - and you are exploring what justice means. I hope you learn the difference between God's definition of justice and the world's definition of justice at a much younger age than I did. You are all about what's fair - whether it benefits you or not. You think of what's fair to others, you are concerned with everyone getting equal opportunities, even if it means you don't get something you want. And you don't like it when things aren't fair...brings to mind a recent random conversation I had with you...quite random.<br /><br /><br />We are at home from church, just you and me, on Easter Sunday. You were running a fever. A had gone to church with Daddy. Out of the blue, you look at me and you say"A says when she farts, that it's me or Daddy...but it's her, Momma. She thinks she never ever farts. That's not fair." I almost fell in the floor right there. Oh, how I love you. Oh how you make me smile.<br /><br /><br />And speaking of your sister, you have such a funny relationship with her...you adore her and she is your best friend, but at the same time, you are no longer her doormat. You still get "snookered" by her mental gymnastics on occasion, and when you do, it hurts your feelings and we are likely to see tears. But there are other times when you stand up for yourself and put her in her place. I mean, she may be taller and older than you, but trust me. You are one stubborn dude...and as for physical strength, Daddy's been playing "trade punches" with you (I'm told it's a guy thing), and he can attest to how strong you are, dear W.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330338755271231650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD5siJ852Hf6PHrSaVPpmnTLAs7fusOLfrtBKQ15Btq5L_dqwUrnSkP8EPfhRjcnTV4FL3OnsqRf-6ChXXWth1bEJ0wytBMTHBnY-2pzVAIFWbns7cb57zljavs1k6RjG1wh2ea7NgtdE/s320/Christmas+2008+084.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br />So, happy 6th birthday, my son. I am so thankful to God for putting you in our family. Thank you for still choosing the most random moments to tell me that you love me. Thank you for making me smile every single day of our life.<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330335510240878258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKaA_Onzg9aMtoxjGYM0rUrhlPJTL97EPYo5CKWHQA_-U9-3gsDuBSckMYXRlRrTcaYouwTluFZp5gJ0LszoF-1ncyU-1wm6tsmODMFl7oSkNKEUlbAT_poMYMH871O_mMUF87qPK-EK4/s320/April+2009+101.JPG" border="0" /> </div>kasogaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01821991754937771142noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1694274108469064058.post-28064590824214043002009-04-15T06:56:00.001-07:002009-04-15T07:35:26.586-07:00The 3 Week Escape....If you have been reading this blog for long, you know we have 2 bearded dragons - Randall (mean and ferocious and blind in one eye) and Renny (smaller, less ferocious, and a girl). They both reside in A's room, even though Renny is technically W's pet. <br /><br />Well, about 3 weeks ago, Renny disappeared. I didn't really fret because she has done that before and dug under the sand in her terrarium to hibernate for a week or so at a time. So no big deal. <br /><br />A week after she went incognito, Dear Hubby decided to change out the bedding in the terrarium and put in some kind of coconut shaving stuff that Walter's World of Pets sold him for reptiles. So he needed to dig Renny out. Except Renny was not there...she was nowhere to be found in her shared terrarium with Randall...he sifted through every last piece of sand - afraid an avalanche had buried her or that Randall had decided to turn carnivorous and eaten her...nothing. Not a trace of Renny. No clues. She just disappeared into thin reptile air.<br /><br />Our next thought was she got out - or someone let her out (umm, maybe a 7 year old who happens to love all things reptilian?) - or someone forgot to close the lid good after giving them water? Oh, great...you know how much I <a href="http://kasogayle.blogspot.com/2008/06/deal-or-no-deal.html">love</a> the reptiles. So we started doing a search for her...we looked under everything. We checked behind every door, we looked in closets, in shoes. Nada. Where could she have gone and how long had she been gone? Yikes. <br /><br />Well, 3 weeks go by and no signs whatsoever of Renny....until last night. About 9.30 pm, A comes RUNNING in telling Dear Hubby and I that she found Renny! WHAT? She says "I did! She's right here! I'm holding her!" Sure enough she was. <br /><br />"I was laying in bed and I heard this scratch, scratching from my closet. I thought - could that be Renny? So I got out of bed and went and looked! And there was Renny! Sitting in my baby doll basket on a baby blanket!!" Ummm...how many 7 year old girls would go investigate a strange noise coming from their closet in the middle of the night? I would have screamed like a girl and asked my daddy to come get the boogie man.<br /><br />So Renny came home after her 3 week escape. There is no telling what she did for 3 weeks but it would make a good movie, wouldn't it? So many questions I'd like to ask her - what did you eat and drink all that time, Renny? Where did you hide out? Did Rosie (our new puppy) come sniffing around and you scared her off? And where did you poop, so I can clean it up?<br /><br />And don't worry, Rowdy Girls Mom...plans have been put into action to finally move Renny into her very own terrarium this week. No more bunking with the Mean and Ferocious One, Randall. Probably why she ran away in the first place!kasogaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01821991754937771142noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1694274108469064058.post-36894185856914327822009-04-15T06:39:00.000-07:002009-04-15T06:54:14.990-07:00The Earth Destroyers!I should have posted this last week, but the week before tax day was a VERY long week for me at work...so here's a great A&W story from last weekend (our weekend in Austin)...<br /><br />We were staying w/the Rowdy Girls and, unfortunately, A&W didn't get the memo that we are supposed to sleep in on Saturday mornings - especially when we are guests in someone else's home - so as not to wake the Rowdy Girls at 7 a.m. SO - I held A& W prisoner in our room - trying to keep them quiet (Thanks, C, for having books in your guest room for my kids to read!)...turned out to be a pretty awesome time to get to just listen to my kids rattle on about life and how they see it...<br /><br />Anyways, on to the Earth Destroyers....I asked A for an update on how Earth Squad was going. She said it was going great - they had 4 new members. There was just one problem. The Earth Destroyers. I'll give you one guess - yes, the 2nd grade BOYS. Anything that a 2nd grade girl finds fun, a 2nd grade boy will find a way to mess it up - on purpose. So the boys started a club called the Earth Destroyers. Their mission...to harass and mess up the Earth Squad in any way they can. They steal their trash bags, for crying outloud!!! They purposely drop trash on the playground and then hold the girls back from picking it up! "How rude...and how NOT Earth friendly!", says A.<br /><br />I then probe a little deeper, trying to delve into the psyche of my 7 year old daughter. "Why do you think they do that?"<br /><br />"They say it's because we are popular, Mom..." She says this with a wrinkled up nose, like popular is a dirty, nasty word that she can't even stand to be in her mouth.<br /><br />"Hmmm...." I say..."What does it mean - this word "popular"?"<br /><br />W is quietly sitting by doing his own thing during all of this, but he decides at this point, he has something worthwhile to add to the conversation..."It means you are like FABULOUS..."<br /><br />I'm still recovering from W's comment when A, without skipping a beat and as serious as she can be, says "I'm fabulous but I'm not popular...." (No self esteem issues here, folks!)<br /><br />So, while trying not to laugh so as not to ruin my chance to learn something about how they think, I ask "what DOES it mean, then, A?"<br /><br />"It means you are like bossy and tell everybody what to do, Mom."<br /><br />Of course it does. Popular girl = Mean girl and she hasn't even seen the movie!<br /><br />May it always be so. May you always be the champion of the ones who can't champion themselves, A. And I think you are fabulous, by the way. :)kasogaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01821991754937771142noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1694274108469064058.post-3282258083127738722009-03-25T16:41:00.000-07:002009-03-25T16:51:43.530-07:00Yea, Earth Squad!<div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">"I pledge allegiance to the Earth.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">I promise to keep it clean and keep it green.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">I promise to never litter again in my life.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">To Earth Squad! Yea!!!!"</span></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">My daughter, A, is at it again...she and a friend from her class have decided to devote their recess time to helping make the Earth a better place...they have spent several recesses picking up trash on the playground and now have formed the "Earth Squad" - a group of 2nd grade girls who spend their time thinking of ways to make the Earth cleaner and greener. I am not kidding. The little pledge above? That's straight from A's mouth as she was eating supper tonight. That's the pledge the girls take in Earth Squad every day while holding up 4 fingers. I have no idea where she gets this stuff. Really...we use the reusable shopping bags and we recycle, but that's about it, folks. I now am aware that Earth Day is coming up on April 22nd, thanks to my daughter. So what do you do to celebrate Earth Day with a 2nd grader? Suggestions? </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">In the meantime, W is learning all about dinosaurs and volcanoes and Teddy Roosevelt. Kind of random, isn't it? </div>kasogaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01821991754937771142noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1694274108469064058.post-28927439548417613302009-01-28T20:06:00.000-08:002009-01-28T20:56:38.066-08:00Christmas '08 - yes I know I'm late.<div align="center"> </div><div align="center">Okay, I know I haven't posted since the infamous day when the Red Raiders forgot to show up their bowl game and let a stinkin' SEC team make them look silly...I've been in denial and trying to purge that memory from my mind...</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">But, in the midst of that, I have neglected to tell of our Christmas at all. A very good Christmas...lots and lots of traveling but got to see so much of our families, that it was worth it...</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><br />Here's a few of my favorite pics:</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296564821148847058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVJRTuFMNJ7pfgQF-tcH0jhtpC58VZ7ZS9r-PeJxRmSTmb6baxhuU-FqE7hK2SrgtOAfAp6qyICjHycz1gCv3Zvk3ZTzaPkv6iM8FOVBmuj9o9YYaXIzObEiWu7YzkXsEMIOXjb5PwCXAw/s320/Christmas+2008+021.JPG" border="0" /> A got a real live MICROSCOPE for Christmas! She loves it! </div><div align="center"><br /></div><p align="center"><br /><br /></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296564831870974114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijWAgtbQGYSZ59J4Uu3HCKgrBoylJ0eJF7EA3cWNYsnz8J9LcZjleeP61CVKs3qmfo7l5osNcAzoL5TZ5A53BiWaifZ_VMHc52GT7PYfICbNPtRiPxOqXtxFlXfmB2M1qGtvLQv8qB2wBn/s320/Christmas+2008+052.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p align="center">A & W with my Grandmother - their great-grandmother.<br /><br /><br /></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296564838687915314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyo0dLM6C-T-9acjGXCcTX8e6m0cEQ8h2ObwsqtRJ2Hi1C6Z94IJOnFmy2ZGSgk2HGrCcAqwVUUJPrjkdHmTcX9LfiEi7G5Nd5hXxGnlyrf6kpQTeOEP3A4IuC7i-Zs29ocniDDkd2Tmho/s320/Christmas+2008+075.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p align="center">Dear Hubby & W, playing with Football Man, W in his ever so cute underoos! </p><br /><p align="center"></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296564848989982514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmm6eS-C_P2oLQEFtnZKe9K-w5kf3XzOkwU1b-fuJz_Ap-4WHZdQS0UGCYJscQebXANbsLUiRuzUdranOZxMdNPC8_WciAW0r8zpQiWmX4yGWsawSqpCh7yqG7TSL33X511gmaTx6ZqpYu/s320/Christmas+2008+108.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p align="center">Dear Hubby, getting all choked up as he opens up his gift - a goat through Samaritan's Purse for a family in a third world country...this is what he asked for.</p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296564856420565298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUHLZDOGpvkQt49bJYMlgaVjhbFeVrsffoGHLOwSm_s7SCSxBjXenodWVQ97vOVrSbccU8yQs-p-rf6nP_k7x4DOGSS022htToPFAZPAle1zKr-BpgMdG876DckRLuEQc4u65uuHTicP9V/s320/Christmas+2008+024.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p align="center">A just being goofy.....and kind of scary if you look at it long enough! </p><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296571596778779746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg03jLzsv4jMH5H5Qbr0rwNzyfXXAvK2jfI2eSEWL__uExDc4MIc-CnCtX_A6ZixzTNIHr7M4fvMmPaXnD_vHsVHkbStq-Qg0gLgx5czN5B_pQ1SCEu5z4tsotp93tqZ3WYKLzaQ2CUA2OO/s320/Christmas+2008+065.JPG" border="0" />Uncle Kyle threatening to throw W into the Guadalupe River!<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296571607130059730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7-m4d-3EssU0EaxAH07LxNHwk0EXIK5ZyPk4j3B_Gq_w9uGJAhqtgs5ClfhwLxGl6rDv9eKKT3t6cK4yG2h-FYVl8-ZylnUMbFyJhypUqSpXI5eaAJPdwOn7n8V9Tb3bgMqwt0dl_31k_/s320/Christmas+2008+068.JPG" border="0" />My angel boy - okay, so he's not an angel boy...but he looks like one in this picture so I'm sticking to my caption.... </div><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296574552799299698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ORwTCzUoanf4WcRLHe8xV3yq_eXYAJWvx-zzFBFbG2f8ge2UFYbXfgEAODB84qU3Z9SY9e6HSSYwrdvGkpaJp8mnJxd1WOUxbZ8A7JNWezZEhPxL30wZu30IeWVu-YWemJ94GT8mUjOx/s320/Christmas+2008+113.JPG" border="0" />A in her new helmet - to protect her noggin' when she's roller skatin' on her new purple skates!<br /><br />I also got to be part of a very special event this year...it was our first Christmas without our Ma...last Christmas, none of us would have guessed we'd be spending it without her this year. My mom, aunts, and uncles (my mom is the oldest of 8 kids) decided to take everything that my Ma had left on this earth (which was about $1200 - and that's including her IRS stimulus check from 2008!) and use it to make some special memories this Christmas. You see, my Ma, from the world's perspective, was very poor...she had very little in the physical or worldly sense...and yet, somehow, she is the richest person I have ever known. </p><p align="center">Anyway, our family rented a lodge at a camp ground near Fredricksburg and all that could met there the weekend after New Years...there were 53 of us there. This is just my aunts, uncles, and cousins, people...there are lots of us. Anyway, it was a very nice time on Friday and Saturday...but there was just something missing to me - my Ma. I was really dreading this weekend because I knew it would be so hard, that I would miss her more than ever and her absence would be so real...the easy thing would have been not to go. But I knew I needed to, and I knew we, as a family, needed to get through this together, so that's what we did...<br /><br />Then, on Saturday night, a really cool thing happened. I love my family, I have always loved my family...we have always been very close and stick together through thick and thin...but there was some unspoken fears floating around that now that Ma was gone, that closeness would begin to erode away. Saturday night changed all of that. Most of us ended up sitting around outside, with a fire going in a big grill (burn ban, no campfires!), just talking...and when I say "just talking" - I mean talking in a way that people started sharing crazy childhood stories, laughing, talking about all of the lives my Ma had touched, how she had been the hands and feet to Jesus for so many and then telling each other about those specific individuals that Ma had touched ...that evolved into many of us sharing our feelings about Ma, about losing her, about what this family meant...one of my uncles had gotten a single word from God to describe Ma and her life - Vast. Vast in the sense of how large God had made her territory (Prayer of Jabez, anyone?)...vast in the sense of how deep and how wide and how amazing her love was for all of us...vast in the sense of how far reaching her influence was and vast in her legacy and in her love for Jesus. We prayed together, we sang together, we laughed, we cried, we listened to one of my uncles play the harmonica....the sense of our common ties was so strong, you could feel it...and the sense of how much Ma loved all of us was just as strong...<br /><br />I left that weekend feeling like I had re-bonded with my roots, with my zany, eccentric, beautiful, and amazing family. I left there still missing my Ma but feeling a peace that I haven't felt since she died. I left there knowing Ma was smiling at us from Heaven, saying "I love you more!" </p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296570494666798994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqP-8hAaoMvqn0fj44uYk82OiRZGcNjvku9SyQHZqc4_M96RjGl4gEQePULvvq-fCUi97ZqlDLrCPZtfQ2wMP1UTv-lP3cym5psF_skIaeAnlfqY1MfUfEOzaNlPxkujN-m0mceQxGJ-cm/s320/Christmas+2008+093.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center"> The only picture I have where you can see most of us...we were playing the "Right" game - a very strange little tradition Ma started many years ago.</p>kasogaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01821991754937771142noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1694274108469064058.post-49900394046861651342009-01-02T16:03:00.000-08:002009-01-02T16:04:11.563-08:00Tough dayIt's a tough day to be a red raider...heck it's tough all of the time! <br>So many ups and downs, it's like riding a roller coaster. Final score <br>34-47, Ole Miss.kasogaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01821991754937771142noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1694274108469064058.post-21919648800133428502009-01-02T13:07:00.000-08:002009-01-02T13:09:42.290-08:00QuestionAny one know what "hoddy toddy" means? That apparently is ole miss's <br>battle cry but we have no idea what it means.....thought graham was <br>going to make that rushing TD...that would have been awesome.<p>Sent from my iPhonekasogaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01821991754937771142noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1694274108469064058.post-85788368579830824582009-01-02T12:13:00.000-08:002009-01-02T13:24:28.306-08:00Uh oh<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSCeRH6hZkAagx-_V8SWfQowVzzI68v8asSc8C9IbT3I8itXd7mkZUzJqdKsEWyHJT47Bxk06-FxKJ22sEOiJacBwcRtCmYeYWlbIP4eOn77iK07PRd_ERhTyjMvjeEOkiLgFH7lnhkgVI/s1600-h/photo-768310.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSCeRH6hZkAagx-_V8SWfQowVzzI68v8asSc8C9IbT3I8itXd7mkZUzJqdKsEWyHJT47Bxk06-FxKJ22sEOiJacBwcRtCmYeYWlbIP4eOn77iK07PRd_ERhTyjMvjeEOkiLgFH7lnhkgVI/s320/photo-768310.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286810402208401554" /></a></p>14-14....come on, Raiders!!! Get it together!!!kasogaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01821991754937771142noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1694274108469064058.post-64181240908041030952009-01-02T11:46:00.000-08:002009-01-02T12:20:14.380-08:00Pickin cotton!<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhklbq44favsNQoD25dtVdw23s2nZem9DtR7KqEoJ0Wq4jmp3lwH5FdgoFHB8Hy_3QkIIgVJ0a5Ih4LhKwCBwzWwVEr95RDcyrRe8LhExbZu_zEVeGBIZv5nqRLymdvnCFUQ9TPukyPyPKn/s1600-h/photo-714382.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhklbq44favsNQoD25dtVdw23s2nZem9DtR7KqEoJ0Wq4jmp3lwH5FdgoFHB8Hy_3QkIIgVJ0a5Ih4LhKwCBwzWwVEr95RDcyrRe8LhExbZu_zEVeGBIZv5nqRLymdvnCFUQ9TPukyPyPKn/s320/photo-714382.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286793846426403202" /></a></p>14-0, baby!kasogaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01821991754937771142noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1694274108469064058.post-4225710840528807152009-01-01T14:03:00.000-08:002009-01-01T14:08:14.693-08:00<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBB_6ZMhwhHEzBv-vk8rEEDy298jSBMlzzngMcYTLVfGqb8OgwTq9X28k6ADZeBfg9tKTG99r9uIeyoA144-DNKYHLkE3IWUkG-HQmFlsmeGR95x0L0olu08whmIonE1Vi3fCLDG3d99Pq/s1600-h/photo-794696.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBB_6ZMhwhHEzBv-vk8rEEDy298jSBMlzzngMcYTLVfGqb8OgwTq9X28k6ADZeBfg9tKTG99r9uIeyoA144-DNKYHLkE3IWUkG-HQmFlsmeGR95x0L0olu08whmIonE1Vi3fCLDG3d99Pq/s320/photo-794696.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286450594618479714" /></a></p>kasogaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01821991754937771142noreply@blogger.com0