tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-89210537713917663982024-03-05T08:05:45.797-06:00Prairie Grlz Prairie Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15607315139694984552noreply@blogger.comBlogger170125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921053771391766398.post-16755464308227114682016-01-09T19:29:00.003-06:002016-01-10T07:59:03.733-06:00The Art of Selling a House and Not Losing Your Mind Completely<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxkfYXQf4kuHbPk3QveH-hlR6GL9uXurRxi05E7OpLzZsquHk2ygNh_FKvVm9ZOvS1qZcKTXNtfOu3JPeCH9lfGX_CKJ5533vtjMTsz7bBvLffGAGLQOK9Sr3Nfn4HXVXKAiEO3BRGj5U/s1600/sold.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxkfYXQf4kuHbPk3QveH-hlR6GL9uXurRxi05E7OpLzZsquHk2ygNh_FKvVm9ZOvS1qZcKTXNtfOu3JPeCH9lfGX_CKJ5533vtjMTsz7bBvLffGAGLQOK9Sr3Nfn4HXVXKAiEO3BRGj5U/s200/sold.png" width="171" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I know the "Keep Calm" signs are totally overused, but I JUST SOLD MY HOUSE!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">After 32 showings and 50+ days on the market, I accepted an offer on my house yesterday afternoon. I have never enjoyed electronically signing anything as much as that offer. Tap. Tap. Tapitty-Tap-Tap. Done. </span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9erAWTrmQ2oBlRcWSiIzAfBgK1JWFsYnEe4Gc-Iqfw9IgSojaT5gHYjqGuG4APJAz1u8lXNfmzFBmZkHmIjs5weTlZf8rm4hUkVreKnG8HFyjHjm0sz1yROyPTgt2UPLcf4W8uKdp0R8/s1600/dish+rag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9erAWTrmQ2oBlRcWSiIzAfBgK1JWFsYnEe4Gc-Iqfw9IgSojaT5gHYjqGuG4APJAz1u8lXNfmzFBmZkHmIjs5weTlZf8rm4hUkVreKnG8HFyjHjm0sz1yROyPTgt2UPLcf4W8uKdp0R8/s320/dish+rag.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I don't know if we have met. I am Prairie Eydie.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This morning all I could manage was sitting on the couch feeling like a wrung out dishrag. Limp. But a good kind of limp.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9-s7gOJPzGf9YWZYAhViXlWC1wF-_IFalH8Pw7niOOTpvABEsx_tvq3hENgP5TQYc4RjcuLg2gGLHl7LfrKOZiQDTFZuZGxrd9MSpmE7zsmRP2SvhO53TPkRtDzPXCo6fJWEM6A9wQEE/s1600/Mary-Poppins-quote.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9-s7gOJPzGf9YWZYAhViXlWC1wF-_IFalH8Pw7niOOTpvABEsx_tvq3hENgP5TQYc4RjcuLg2gGLHl7LfrKOZiQDTFZuZGxrd9MSpmE7zsmRP2SvhO53TPkRtDzPXCo6fJWEM6A9wQEE/s320/Mary-Poppins-quote.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">For the past 65 days I have focused on nothing other than selling my house. (I also had to work, parent my children, orchestrate the holidays, and sporadically go to the gym.) </span><br />
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<li><span style="font-size: large;">I savagely decluttered the house. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">I made regular trips to St. Vincent's with piles of Trivial Pursuit games and gently worn snow pants. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">I staged the entire house. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">I got up at 4:30 every morning to make sure the house would be left "Showing Ready." </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">I sent the elderly cats off to live with friends. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">I badgered my kids to not mess anything up - especially the kitchen floor and toothpaste free bathroom counters. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">I had my windows repaired.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">I brightened up woodwork with stain and polyurethane. (NOTE: Don't do this minutes before an Open House because a stink will linger the rest of the day.) </span></li>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Did I do this all on my own? Nope - sure didn't. I had a hard working, cheering section of family and friends who patiently listened to my ill-based fears while packing up photo albums in the guest room. Without them, I would have quit. Because I wanted to quit every other second. Last Sunday, I had brilliantly decided to take my house off the market and get a weekend job at Starbucks to make ends meet. It didn't seem like a big deal to have my kids raise themselves if it meant a stop to the endless parade of showings.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am no longer charged up on adrenaline and a laundry list of "What ifs . . ." Today I had a perfect day. No cleaning. No packing. No searching for missing chargers and cell phone bills.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLcRPufMSH-1YnNR1A3OUFlFPOyLKg40hGhl8uwgKglSmjwYdL7DS3bkxBVnU_-e0rqb60O9Nk-knzxmuY52n7lnMb6KKzZ5_XldiexcR-Z6-7ZP8Ip3J-KrxidzhYmzLXPgFTdqURj-4/s1600/Home+Staging+Boot+Camp+header-transparent+background.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="106" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLcRPufMSH-1YnNR1A3OUFlFPOyLKg40hGhl8uwgKglSmjwYdL7DS3bkxBVnU_-e0rqb60O9Nk-knzxmuY52n7lnMb6KKzZ5_XldiexcR-Z6-7ZP8Ip3J-KrxidzhYmzLXPgFTdqURj-4/s320/Home+Staging+Boot+Camp+header-transparent+background.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am off to pack up my "staging props" for Prairie Sherry. Soon her house will be on the market. She can have all the white towels, white shower curtains, wooden hangers, coffee table books, battery operated pillar candles, etc. Luckily she got a new Kitchen Aid for Christmas from her daughter because I couldn't help her with that one. Tomorrow I will deliver the props and help her bury St. Joseph, upside down, in her backyard.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Prairie Eydie</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />Prairie Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15607315139694984552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921053771391766398.post-5639055198088473522016-01-09T08:38:00.000-06:002016-01-09T18:29:39.973-06:00Prairie Pa on the Art of Cutting Food Costs<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; color: blue; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small; font-weight: bold; line-height: 25.2000007629395px; text-align: start;">Our very own guest blogger, Prairie Pa, has been musing about saving money in the new year. This blog has inspired me to take another look at my food budget. Thanks Prairie Pa for the innovative ways to be cheap . . . um. . . I mean frugal. -Prairie Eydie</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Food bills are a hardship for those of us on fixed incomes. Here are ten ways for retirees (or college students) to reduce food costs without reducing flavor.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj63eybwDdUtNj073eM_eqJmlSG0tb609yunBTmJxgHU2WbWlXAXhv3x-vPWJeHRPP7JizD6PS6axoRe2l3EB7FOTvWmmYFxXAYH90yD1OqAs44Qxlddlv80Dvhel7jTOxILDHoExMebMg/s1600/bacon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj63eybwDdUtNj073eM_eqJmlSG0tb609yunBTmJxgHU2WbWlXAXhv3x-vPWJeHRPP7JizD6PS6axoRe2l3EB7FOTvWmmYFxXAYH90yD1OqAs44Qxlddlv80Dvhel7jTOxILDHoExMebMg/s320/bacon.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">1. HOTEL BREAKFASTS</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">How does the tired and harassed desk clerk know if you are a paying guest or not? I have stayed in hundreds of motels and never saw anyone get kicked out. I did hear a story about a local professor who for weeks went to the same motel for a free breakfast and was finally confronted and thrown out. HINT: Do not go to the same hotel every day for your free breakfast. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">2. MEALS ON WHEELS</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Volunteer for Meals on Wheels and eat a little from each meal. Your clients will never know. Better yet, hobble into the Meals on Wheels office and have the meals delivered right to you!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlFpDj6x02I3VKKyEcfC52kWsUDq5OSD1ZdiAqTIKO2D62rv_UeTpG7l3jant4QiqQxhnRGw4XBYzxWMAiXNzBEWabteGCFC1_N_gLwwISq8Kj08a15ziZej7BOP1EBV5C8iGJbmGnWQs/s1600/costco.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlFpDj6x02I3VKKyEcfC52kWsUDq5OSD1ZdiAqTIKO2D62rv_UeTpG7l3jant4QiqQxhnRGw4XBYzxWMAiXNzBEWabteGCFC1_N_gLwwISq8Kj08a15ziZej7BOP1EBV5C8iGJbmGnWQs/s320/costco.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">3. COSTCO SAMPLES</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">No one does food samples like Costco. Saturdays and Sundays will offer the most samples variety per aisle. Graze on Italian meatballs, Skinny Pop, Muscle Milk, and quinoa. Bring the grandkids and do the loop. If the grandkids are still hungry, circle around again. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">4. HOSPITAL COMPLIMENTARY MEALS</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I visited my wife in the hospital at mealtime and was offered a free meal. I bet they charged the insurance company $500.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcbwaIiD8LfwMOzQ8HZyq6my-SqiuPXD6dfIMzzjTeOlqj4glA3W_pWs5yVFh4-BQOy3rvqYyOmBpbrpGqs5fFMmF_pm-hzgOe0Bj_hyasteapGaBblw8hO0mjPNuHTWTOmLsL297awIw/s1600/staying+for+dinner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcbwaIiD8LfwMOzQ8HZyq6my-SqiuPXD6dfIMzzjTeOlqj4glA3W_pWs5yVFh4-BQOy3rvqYyOmBpbrpGqs5fFMmF_pm-hzgOe0Bj_hyasteapGaBblw8hO0mjPNuHTWTOmLsL297awIw/s320/staying+for+dinner.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">5. PLAY THE "ABANDONED" CARD</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Give the impression (and hopefully it is just an impression) that you are financially strapped and abandoned by your thankless children. Hopefully someone will feel sorry for you and invite you over for dinner. This strategy works especially well around the holidays. Be selective and only look "abandoned" around interesting conversationalists and good cooks.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">6. THE KIDS</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Hey! They owe you! Time to even the score. Though you may have to settle for what they feed the grandkids: mac and cheese and watery apply juice. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">7. CHURCH</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Churches offer a plethora of opportunities for free meals. Consider showing up after a church dinner, wandering into the kitchen and scarfing up the leftovers.</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFXD2o4XG5EphzeRnEhjpNwptTXsK_ZCecg6oTG716qs1IcrXqj-8Ao-Sg4A6kHYzZw5Ml9W5QQR9QLkjAPP9R5mvWw1pQ01WPv1DUEYs-Dt4DoTF2pSwShc60M7E1_oJIbH8xScoId5o/s1600/garden.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFXD2o4XG5EphzeRnEhjpNwptTXsK_ZCecg6oTG716qs1IcrXqj-8Ao-Sg4A6kHYzZw5Ml9W5QQR9QLkjAPP9R5mvWw1pQ01WPv1DUEYs-Dt4DoTF2pSwShc60M7E1_oJIbH8xScoId5o/s320/garden.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The answer is A LOT! Especially if you are eating off of someone else's garden</span>.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">8. BEFRIEND A GARDENER</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Gardeners always grow more veggies than they need. Be bold and ask for those extra zucchini. Be careful because they might expect you to start weeding their garden.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">9. FARMER'S MARKETS</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Go to a farmer's market just before take down. Do they really want to haul all those unsold vegetables back to the farm?</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKfURG1AXy2hsY8zSZGA40Uf8DrbACgpTtEzeOB3oCwkWGNtvZYIoA2Mpo-gWvSHpnT2HekH8-gpryi12A-906LVKsJ_3Cm1gOkWG1X_azUd-WfCBWUYWxNt-6f_EQoijOgkkRKvTQ5aY/s1600/julia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKfURG1AXy2hsY8zSZGA40Uf8DrbACgpTtEzeOB3oCwkWGNtvZYIoA2Mpo-gWvSHpnT2HekH8-gpryi12A-906LVKsJ_3Cm1gOkWG1X_azUd-WfCBWUYWxNt-6f_EQoijOgkkRKvTQ5aY/s320/julia.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Why yes, Julia. Thursday at 7 sounds find.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">10. HOLIDAY SEASON</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Accept all those dinner invitations and use the month of December to really bulk up for the lean months of March and April. Who knows? You might meet some very interesting people as well.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Prairie "The Rocket" Pa</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />Prairie Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15607315139694984552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921053771391766398.post-43822478428323685572016-01-09T08:12:00.000-06:002016-01-09T08:12:31.671-06:00Prairie Pa and the Art of Change<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #cc0000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small; font-weight: bold; line-height: 25.2000007629395px; text-align: start;">Our very own guest blogger, Prairie Pa, has been musing about change. This blog has inspired me to think of ways to change my schedule so it will include more time for creativity. Read on to find out how it will inspire you into some "binge believing". -Prairie Eydie</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ8mSzDOA_15bUthIB9Be2TKWLRjDXeF9Bb6HoUFojR-Cgq4YdVn_TBrULeR0ic2uZNgy4AZAWbdyB-VQJUgsdasWyE6JANnrw89ZPfHTb-URbx9biSIQpHj41d-Uc-qIWelVXB_QI4WE/s1600/lily.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ8mSzDOA_15bUthIB9Be2TKWLRjDXeF9Bb6HoUFojR-Cgq4YdVn_TBrULeR0ic2uZNgy4AZAWbdyB-VQJUgsdasWyE6JANnrw89ZPfHTb-URbx9biSIQpHj41d-Uc-qIWelVXB_QI4WE/s320/lily.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">WHY IS CHANGE FOR THE BETTER SO DIFFICULT?<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I recently visited a friend in the hospital. Although she
was not overweight, she was placed in a bariatric room. The surgery that
removes fat is called bariatric surgery (love those medical euphemisms). The bariatric
room was a room for giants. The doors were four feet wide and the chair looked like Lilly Tomlin’s. A forklift
could easily maneuver in the room. People who have bariatric surgery (or is it
a procedure?) will not change their eating habits, even if it means horrific
surgery.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVFQXld8BtGtuaROHwd-J2o90Ksl5y8SIW7Q4SO80e3niohR3obOkgruz68E51Q90SiHAIBG8JglBMfw1ULEOQyoIp6t2CuDvWwiuG2XX4feTlZqkPm4pQiQl9f5Th7AMmYJdE3ffMsvo/s1600/change+quote.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVFQXld8BtGtuaROHwd-J2o90Ksl5y8SIW7Q4SO80e3niohR3obOkgruz68E51Q90SiHAIBG8JglBMfw1ULEOQyoIp6t2CuDvWwiuG2XX4feTlZqkPm4pQiQl9f5Th7AMmYJdE3ffMsvo/s320/change+quote.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Or consider my friend’s son. He started drinking in his
early teens and never looked back. He is now in his late 30’s, a raging alcoholic.
A doctor told him if he did not stop drinking right now, he will die. I’m sure he would
like to stop drinking, but does not. He will die soon</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">My sister, Lucy, spent years as a RN working in alcohol and
drug clinics. She said only about 30% of those who receive treatment were able
to break free. One man was at her clinic over 50 times before he was able to stop
drinking. FIFTY TIMES!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6YWOlDNqljFAEGZE6cppW9XYvZgjvqQdhDdLUUs_ipJiY9lmuwfM_YBOAmngM3t5FrZhIVcWEHw7x6KHcTo9_QvdnWel_IdCYCFOYnrEqswwQyRl_IGuRmJxSepzdfYcK17xEiPLo-q4/s1600/mountain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6YWOlDNqljFAEGZE6cppW9XYvZgjvqQdhDdLUUs_ipJiY9lmuwfM_YBOAmngM3t5FrZhIVcWEHw7x6KHcTo9_QvdnWel_IdCYCFOYnrEqswwQyRl_IGuRmJxSepzdfYcK17xEiPLo-q4/s320/mountain.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I believe everyone wants to do well—to live abundant,
meaningful lives. Who sets out to obtain a brain the size of a baseball, or
ride around Walmart in a motorized cart or spend years in prison?” They’re
living nightmare lives, but do not change. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGA_D-nObm4OTMZRSglXaQ9Eg0_7TlfqejFxsZqmEQBxgwiUqKu5GD8dey92q6B2UmHExxTFJ2mjqdaXn2wE_mU3F_GG1Al3zIivaFOT23Clq0gcXvIYZCXJy4PB72QhBJGOxVlw5aYjw/s1600/cathy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGA_D-nObm4OTMZRSglXaQ9Eg0_7TlfqejFxsZqmEQBxgwiUqKu5GD8dey92q6B2UmHExxTFJ2mjqdaXn2wE_mU3F_GG1Al3zIivaFOT23Clq0gcXvIYZCXJy4PB72QhBJGOxVlw5aYjw/s640/cathy.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And who am I? For years I have tried to lose 25 pound. Do I change
my eating habits? No! My doctor says I am a tub (Well, he didn't exactly use those words.) and the extra weight will make me diabetic and kill my knees. But I have
not lost much weight.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Change is difficult, but not impossible. Many people change
for the better. It involves discipline and pain. It involves setting and
meeting goals. It involves showing up and working. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRWCBwkqJ1Tj3fMIEfLlIMAl14J9IgkUGaXwjSWb3HIvyxzXs2hi6vIZbt_7c-6hgMsAezzv0qsgdsmgLJOhAA0-r3gdW09aF_WKw492CEiudjHWctXLa_jANNPqPKNNOzy_GiNqKAg_Y/s1600/clean-eating-meme.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRWCBwkqJ1Tj3fMIEfLlIMAl14J9IgkUGaXwjSWb3HIvyxzXs2hi6vIZbt_7c-6hgMsAezzv0qsgdsmgLJOhAA0-r3gdW09aF_WKw492CEiudjHWctXLa_jANNPqPKNNOzy_GiNqKAg_Y/s320/clean-eating-meme.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So how do I end this depressing blog? Well, I am going to
pick myself up, (all 220 pounds of me) and change. I am going to lose that 25
pounds. I want to do it! I can do it! Just think how great I will look!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Prairie “The Rocket” Pa<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: large;"><b>Update from Prairie Eydie: At Prairie Pa's last doctor's appointment, he was at his lowest weight in years! Yippee!</b></span><br />
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Prairie Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15607315139694984552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921053771391766398.post-56671513849531472552015-12-29T07:56:00.001-06:002015-12-29T07:56:21.902-06:00Top Ten Things Not to Say or Ask Someone Who is Selling Their House<div style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRe-T8SPMIf0lF_NQtanlJrkFtduQmjMdgPX9GzF6pO7UtonKqhOiyZxJFwg-LHUUS0v3mzBWvUmFySjsZ_HvMtZmA3tfMoKi7LdmZ6O2v9iWAJ965K830LfW3gKL9WXrcI4ll9Vvavps/s1600/keep+house.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRe-T8SPMIf0lF_NQtanlJrkFtduQmjMdgPX9GzF6pO7UtonKqhOiyZxJFwg-LHUUS0v3mzBWvUmFySjsZ_HvMtZmA3tfMoKi7LdmZ6O2v9iWAJ965K830LfW3gKL9WXrcI4ll9Vvavps/s400/keep+house.jpg" width="377" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">1. Do you have a realtor? My husband's cousin just started selling real estate.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">2. My house sold in three days and I had five offers to chose from.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">3. Did you ever consider refinancing?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">4. No one will buy a house with old windows. I always look at the windows first and if they aren't new, forget it!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWyqK9YckiL6RsYwI7EUHZTj4IOySRdPgft4y8U4gXzPDmNSLyXNq-TCOOFdOrbUgq7In06vxgIDAMYciUX1EsxdkMGVBAJOskXQABLqNizT54rS961t9AvapLKLC9NnJ1eonhmeYTzII/s1600/asking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWyqK9YckiL6RsYwI7EUHZTj4IOySRdPgft4y8U4gXzPDmNSLyXNq-TCOOFdOrbUgq7In06vxgIDAMYciUX1EsxdkMGVBAJOskXQABLqNizT54rS961t9AvapLKLC9NnJ1eonhmeYTzII/s400/asking.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">5. What are ya asking? Really? Isn't that a little high?</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3NeUaCubQAA0awAFUQiygBaQYltnKnU_ISLEgswk1TY8Y7bVoN2gfFgB4NGoi2GOWYWnDxJPO36BCEu1hGptuvy0ICDqtbWyhlfhRrJoVDS95Zp00yyLmZcxnnZ3wHXkeX5LBnuwr1HE/s1600/st+joseph.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3NeUaCubQAA0awAFUQiygBaQYltnKnU_ISLEgswk1TY8Y7bVoN2gfFgB4NGoi2GOWYWnDxJPO36BCEu1hGptuvy0ICDqtbWyhlfhRrJoVDS95Zp00yyLmZcxnnZ3wHXkeX5LBnuwr1HE/s320/st+joseph.jpg" width="230" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">This is the St. Joseph kit I bought when selling a house in Milwaukee. It took 51 weeks to sell that house. Granted it was during that huge housing crash, but perhaps I should consider a different model this time?</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-size: large;">6. Did you bury your St. Joseph statue upside down yet? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">7. You better sell it quick cuz I hear the Fed is going to raise interest rates soon.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> 8. Make sure to clean out your closets. People will be looking in them!</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> 9. I have sure seen a lot of "For Sale" signs up in your neighborhood lately.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJymyQh3xHSkzYGL-NbDIvPRfUefYuUqVXIOsds16z4JlS2aaCiZ8SVGy1fg3kqVjpdHAvMfNkzzylg00ll5kqKUnyTg4tcnkmzL-LPTzb_5swPj4J7t1QS1TIv4N2ua3Om0eMtgqCXLg/s1600/showing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJymyQh3xHSkzYGL-NbDIvPRfUefYuUqVXIOsds16z4JlS2aaCiZ8SVGy1fg3kqVjpdHAvMfNkzzylg00ll5kqKUnyTg4tcnkmzL-LPTzb_5swPj4J7t1QS1TIv4N2ua3Om0eMtgqCXLg/s320/showing.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">10. I don't know why you're bothering with Open Houses. They never work. Just your neighbors will come.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Prairie Eydie</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />Prairie Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15607315139694984552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921053771391766398.post-17684067335924219162015-12-28T12:27:00.005-06:002015-12-28T13:32:58.987-06:00The Art of Deciding to Move During the Holidays Part III<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRJ3FgFYz-xpU-aTvwomQ3w7Awpyq5X4zEZIANm8LUlJ-lTCtbnvbYrfRFsOZK9J_SgKUuNWCNS3Y1RCp_KHPrEk6JDoI_ebjVgSUVE6ZOqE2fXoLrldxZN5Leq3gqt6EYSnLAfHlR-cY/s1600/rachel+ray.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRJ3FgFYz-xpU-aTvwomQ3w7Awpyq5X4zEZIANm8LUlJ-lTCtbnvbYrfRFsOZK9J_SgKUuNWCNS3Y1RCp_KHPrEk6JDoI_ebjVgSUVE6ZOqE2fXoLrldxZN5Leq3gqt6EYSnLAfHlR-cY/s640/rachel+ray.gif" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Staging the kitchen was quite involved, but luckily did not include white dish towels. According to my stager, you want potential home buyers to feel like they will magically become Rachael Ray in your kitchen. It doesn't matter if they currently only make fish sticks with a side of soupy rice, after viewing your kitchen they must feel empowered to nourish their family with delicious "30 Minute Meals" daily.</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPEPVTlT7J14HvGtSaCw1ZYLcboAYS9rh5FrnsvlxkDhrvTJ_PGiwic5ikVSofn1C1FUpuyUDnZU7tn5pJA0GDQEh74uH3SJQa7KrnkVYzqO4TxPxDvIJyYUqGVd6Kv4cxF3asDv88nqs/s1600/kitchen+aid.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPEPVTlT7J14HvGtSaCw1ZYLcboAYS9rh5FrnsvlxkDhrvTJ_PGiwic5ikVSofn1C1FUpuyUDnZU7tn5pJA0GDQEh74uH3SJQa7KrnkVYzqO4TxPxDvIJyYUqGVd6Kv4cxF3asDv88nqs/s1600/kitchen+aid.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">This mixer is TOTALLY inappropriate for staging your kitchen. It has too much color and personality. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">First, there needs to be a Kitchen Aid mixer in the corner. It is best if the mixer is a neutral color and not hot pink. I don't own a Kitchen Aid, so I had to borrow one. Unfortunately I had to return it so its owner could make Christmas cookies. (Super selfish of her to put supplying loved ones with spritz cookies over helping me sell my house.) The counter now has a glaring, gaping hole. I may or may not rustle up the strength to tote the mixer monstrosity back to my counter.</span> <br />
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<img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDXBZXGDpT0JDuhE8Y2qp-eK9nO0zFz1Bkbm_Q-9syYKbIkqNduFMxaeRsLj3owHtdygxsnSqC1qNzb9WnklJxyZ3Gu7Hyeun5zhBjDD8b3nt1diJn903o5CpEzhWdYlbfWVnHy8KcrAE/s320/cre0e.jpg" width="213" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">To the right of the stove, angle a cookbook on a stand. The cookbook must not feature a human face (like Rachael Ray's face). Preferably the cover should show muffins or crepes. This will cause potential buyers to imagine themselves baking fragrant cinnamon apple muffins in your kitchen. Personally, I think a crepe cookbook would cause anxiety and distraction. Potential buyers might ruminate on the following crepe questions: Savory or sweet crepes? Where will I store my crepe pan? Where can I buy a crepe pan? Will I be obligated to host a crepe house warming party? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Sadly, I did not have an appropriate cookbook and had to borrow one from Prairie Sherry. Are you noticing a theme? (My cookbooks were either vegetarian or had Jamie Oliver's mug front and center) </span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIKQ5nVJOD-Vd0Haz31VkLOPSteYvkXSHE0BMavYGd0xhfbkFvI3iH4-gDtWG18DD0AJHqT68ST_R8QwZ5xMHrIQowEcnQvorjqnwkzQuvgGwGprvSstWq7TP7xFIvT1SAkrqcANsJglk/s1600/cafe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIKQ5nVJOD-Vd0Haz31VkLOPSteYvkXSHE0BMavYGd0xhfbkFvI3iH4-gDtWG18DD0AJHqT68ST_R8QwZ5xMHrIQowEcnQvorjqnwkzQuvgGwGprvSstWq7TP7xFIvT1SAkrqcANsJglk/s1600/cafe.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Prairie friends, this is not reality.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Next, the stager and I wrestled the leaves out of the kitchen table. The leaves were cemented in with years of accumulated apple juice spills and toast crumbs. After pushing the table back together, it was the size of a café table. The table can now comfortably seat one thin coffee drinker, unfortunately I have to seat my three growing children at the table. The diminutive table means more squabbles and more spilled glasses of milk. We shoved the table in a corner, so the kitchen now seems spacious enough to ballroom dance in. (In case the buyers want to have a "Bridges of Madison County" dance moment.)</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghz9ihJxDVe_aK8zonLkXZyIJFRTcCjs-5VTHuoNq_taY6D9zgprvMrZpUcYYtvVKP99QV7uGJpRIB2KTIaBOR9x3axp3eyBK2MX319kcIIv0_lezpV_EbhLZRiH1fqapG2zpuq71bca0/s1600/bridges.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghz9ihJxDVe_aK8zonLkXZyIJFRTcCjs-5VTHuoNq_taY6D9zgprvMrZpUcYYtvVKP99QV7uGJpRIB2KTIaBOR9x3axp3eyBK2MX319kcIIv0_lezpV_EbhLZRiH1fqapG2zpuq71bca0/s400/bridges.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Hey! I hear Prairie Eydie has a great kitchen to dance in. Let's book a showing!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The final touch was a large bowl of Granny Smith apples in the exact center of the kitchen table. I forgot to ask what green apples have to do with selling a house. Initially I was devoted to using the tart apples and made countless batches of squash and apple bake. Now I just let them rot and feel bad when I throw them out. </span><span style="font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Before each showing I have to clear off all the counters, leaving only the Kitchen Aid, the angled cookbook, and a Keurig (which I did not have to borrow). Since putting my house on the market, I no longer bother cooking much of anything. We are surviving on turkey sandwiches, clementines, and protein bars. Here is to a quick sale in 2016.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I almost forgot. No amount of staging in your kitchen will make potential buyers overlook the lack of stainless steel appliances and granite counter tops. Buyers are much too saavy to be distracted by a bowl of green apples.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Prairie Eydie</span><br />
<br />Prairie Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15607315139694984552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921053771391766398.post-70112616582574853962015-12-14T16:59:00.002-06:002015-12-14T16:59:21.488-06:00The Art of Deciding to Move During the Holidays (Part II)<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2iqPCzdDktG8pbUuCB9YKcEM9R9agFn0e9VB972NQJxDkv9sanD2CYyxueIJpD8-pJJi3osIOAYxAgeDEUKS64d92OrLv29b6qZoH_8Fqlr3GyDCbS6ww60jsvtzhhEP6VsmH-fvP1GI/s1600/litterbox.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2iqPCzdDktG8pbUuCB9YKcEM9R9agFn0e9VB972NQJxDkv9sanD2CYyxueIJpD8-pJJi3osIOAYxAgeDEUKS64d92OrLv29b6qZoH_8Fqlr3GyDCbS6ww60jsvtzhhEP6VsmH-fvP1GI/s400/litterbox.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Before putting my house on the market, (or "Going Live" as realtors say) I worked with a stager. It was her job to tell me how to "stage" my house so it would sell quickly. I am going to pass on what I learned for those buying or selling a house.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCw71YT-rCr4S9W3ndbYmDcqaxtXlYRk2JJ_Fjuy_lNeFrUKm2oX31gZnln0hEKMLug-VnL9-CFQ_G7rivNibrjv1MBM7uMaMbTy19TdS_4UzPOmJrUu3G_rswZaXVHihRoi9HpqnXZlE/s1600/soap.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCw71YT-rCr4S9W3ndbYmDcqaxtXlYRk2JJ_Fjuy_lNeFrUKm2oX31gZnln0hEKMLug-VnL9-CFQ_G7rivNibrjv1MBM7uMaMbTy19TdS_4UzPOmJrUu3G_rswZaXVHihRoi9HpqnXZlE/s200/soap.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Trust me Prairie Friends and just say "NO".</span> </td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">First, you must do everything possible to make your bathrooms look like they belong in the Hampton Inn. This involves ripping out functioning medicine cabinets and replacing them with impractical framed mirrors from Kirkland's. I now store everything that used to be in my medicine cabinet in a plastic tote at the bottom of the linen closet. I begin and end each day schlepping that tote to and from my bathroom. The only item that can be on the bathroom counter is a brushed metal soap dispenser. (I rebelled against buying the soap dispenser and decided to have nothing on the counter.)</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0UW_ZqbZIt6mShsKHb4mnVGN6FXTSHhROHc9AobGdx0DGBGxs_H84HV6FKmrEfTOcH5hJDBGxG1IrIobNMqhVbmRG0EadE9xycPtUd260zuBVTxr2xtiTde4M_sBJzGoTMKEy_Y9qGTk/s1600/white+towels.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0UW_ZqbZIt6mShsKHb4mnVGN6FXTSHhROHc9AobGdx0DGBGxs_H84HV6FKmrEfTOcH5hJDBGxG1IrIobNMqhVbmRG0EadE9xycPtUd260zuBVTxr2xtiTde4M_sBJzGoTMKEy_Y9qGTk/s320/white+towels.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Do not let anyone, under any circumstances touch the white towels!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Do NOT think of adding a splash of color with a cheerful bath towel or shower curtain! You can only have white shower curtains and white towels hanging in the bathrooms because buyers want to feel like they are moving into a spa. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I guess seeing my children's damp Minion towels doesn't scream, "Serenity Now."After each showing, I quickly strip the bathrooms of the pristine white towels before my kids can soil them. I suggest buying a mega pack of white towels at Costco. </span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXbpylwOsbFTxhWWXaF5QFs61rorrPQxt33BeQJWVC_tvuuK7UjTBt32lWP2QJCBJB6-0rzAxZPWIDU29V0Mh6AWeGGTsfxkOSChpmZRnom4n6TaGk_CZz2g-WlrD-vmpT9tNmN1CXZOY/s1600/Hollywood+lights.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXbpylwOsbFTxhWWXaF5QFs61rorrPQxt33BeQJWVC_tvuuK7UjTBt32lWP2QJCBJB6-0rzAxZPWIDU29V0Mh6AWeGGTsfxkOSChpmZRnom4n6TaGk_CZz2g-WlrD-vmpT9tNmN1CXZOY/s320/Hollywood+lights.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">YUCK! These could almost be dated back to Pioneer times!</span><br />
</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I hope you have more taste than I did and don't have those tacky "Hollywood Lights." You know, the ones with at least two light bulbs burned out at all times? The ones all covered with a couple years of dust? If you do have these hideous lights, please junk them (or donate them to someone who doesn't know better). Replace the "Hollywood Lights" with the much more stylish and serene "Tulip Lights." Oh. And I hope you saved some of the bathroom paint so you can touch up the newly exposed bathroom wall. </span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFD_jtRzi3s569o8f_fv7IhQV3rVPCAw-YDnECokR4PtsVv75PyMowuoBc-vLL0w9dCruRm9U-Ljv5FKXTqbmgbWZ1IJHYe3ebOj_FLj_ZVT2FJIr9nKnl00DBRG3h1iTvN_CTengGB4s/s1600/bath+light+fixtures.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFD_jtRzi3s569o8f_fv7IhQV3rVPCAw-YDnECokR4PtsVv75PyMowuoBc-vLL0w9dCruRm9U-Ljv5FKXTqbmgbWZ1IJHYe3ebOj_FLj_ZVT2FJIr9nKnl00DBRG3h1iTvN_CTengGB4s/s320/bath+light+fixtures.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ahhhh! Much better. Now I can relax!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">Okay. That takes care of staging your bathrooms. Tomorrow I will explain how to stage your kitchen and coffee table. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Prairie Eydie</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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</span>Prairie Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15607315139694984552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921053771391766398.post-66873348552572866942015-12-12T14:00:00.004-06:002015-12-12T14:00:48.768-06:00The Art of Deciding to Move During the Holidays<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpYq1q55dRkY32nZuYF39rw5dTNg0-rSIMSgjvIT7NUcfZkxRPRaqOfkyR8YCPiuNN1QS66Tz6Mk4oFR6l1qa3Zp5DuTbENBswhMbEERfhuq3Rb-g_bgEojhF3wCxrIpNwy3sNvgIJn24/s1600/duug+out.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpYq1q55dRkY32nZuYF39rw5dTNg0-rSIMSgjvIT7NUcfZkxRPRaqOfkyR8YCPiuNN1QS66Tz6Mk4oFR6l1qa3Zp5DuTbENBswhMbEERfhuq3Rb-g_bgEojhF3wCxrIpNwy3sNvgIJn24/s400/duug+out.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">But Prairie Eydie, where will you put your Christmas tree? And your holiday Barbies? And your three children?</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span> <span style="font-size: large;">I am currently channeling my inner Pa Ingalls and moving the family to some new digs. Nope. There is no sod dugout in our future, rather a cozy,1950s ranch. </span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjEhOB0O32-e_UHSon6paAN0FYB4clO-FmW_JDur6ewWD4rmpZ36FfVI51A008EU7995c2iZP-3tUsdAyZv905a1FLlY_VTIUHDEtO2l3-MVRd-qyWrAelZQPDg0D1VeVEF_eTPqIuS4Y/s1600/pa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjEhOB0O32-e_UHSon6paAN0FYB4clO-FmW_JDur6ewWD4rmpZ36FfVI51A008EU7995c2iZP-3tUsdAyZv905a1FLlY_VTIUHDEtO2l3-MVRd-qyWrAelZQPDg0D1VeVEF_eTPqIuS4Y/s320/pa.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Would Pa Ingalls have bothered to stage "The Little House in the Big Woods"? I think not. Having an onsite meat smoker would be impetus for buyers to submit those offers.</span> </td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">For some unknown reason I didn't think it would be a big deal to sell the house while raising three kids, nurturing two elderly cats (one with a chronic, stinky ear infection), and working full time. Also unknown is why I thought the holidays were a perfect time to list. (Well, okay I <em>do</em> know why I chose the holiday season. I wanted a concrete reason not to decorate every surface with wistful angels, fake snow, and fairy lights.)</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgALOmThxPoqB9lz4TFIwE8pA5OKOa6Lo2VV5sROAbNfVd6ceMYmVNwXF2J1dKgkyyBjBW6cGI8bkHpiY7Fq4_wx5nbfwS8sZU7xJmNhWvmYyj2Gf7F9oj_AN_xVbgXdSB3o60WYL490FA/s1600/mr+sketch.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="185" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgALOmThxPoqB9lz4TFIwE8pA5OKOa6Lo2VV5sROAbNfVd6ceMYmVNwXF2J1dKgkyyBjBW6cGI8bkHpiY7Fq4_wx5nbfwS8sZU7xJmNhWvmYyj2Gf7F9oj_AN_xVbgXdSB3o60WYL490FA/s320/mr+sketch.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Geez. You'd think I would be able to sniff out those art supplies.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am no longer naïve about the stresses of selling a house. Sadly, I have resorted eating Costco pretzel rolls before each showing and open house - which has added the stress of not fitting into my winter coat. My time is now divided between yelling at the kids to stop mussing up my artfully draped throws and searching for things I hid so the house will look calm and clutter free to potential buyers. To date I have lost two tubs of Lulu's art supplies (each containing a pricey set of Mr. Sketch scented markers), countless chargers, a bag of addressed Christmas cards, and Blueberry (Lulu's toy gorilla).</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Tune in tomorrow for Part II of "The Art of Deciding to Move During the Holidays". I will be leading you through the art of staging your house. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Prairie Eydie</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span>Prairie Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15607315139694984552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921053771391766398.post-15497783954754027692015-08-10T07:58:00.000-05:002015-08-10T07:58:59.941-05:00The Art of Cooking for Kids<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ3iyAM3W9JaMb7etU4x-JeNUJWg8dXT5p3LCxo6m5gLeXJxtcped3SN46-8key6quiSpVGhQeU4hQwLtX481720WFgl6FnnMTh__VS2nd7eWp89RG5-NzLTbkyJ7-D1AqKfnq4CBxZXI/s1600/pattmore.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ3iyAM3W9JaMb7etU4x-JeNUJWg8dXT5p3LCxo6m5gLeXJxtcped3SN46-8key6quiSpVGhQeU4hQwLtX481720WFgl6FnnMTh__VS2nd7eWp89RG5-NzLTbkyJ7-D1AqKfnq4CBxZXI/s400/pattmore.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I know, I know Mrs. Pattmore. I need to start taking cooking seriously again.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Coming up with something for my kids to eat three times a day is as much fun as getting weighed at the doctor's office. As much fun as teaching students to write a proper paragraph. As much fun as shopping for beige bras.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1cQMbZCEmlzdiZaDrEX-87pp-vvdNN71wt5p7ESoweBYK6faadsxnlqMl0NyuTeQ3ovyQ6f6MKa9e8jlD97q-HJAQUH-6BeP9uJt28Mnb_JyX2GB_GkVzFS19v_AT8AXjxzbZ75WKvGw/s1600/jessica.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1cQMbZCEmlzdiZaDrEX-87pp-vvdNN71wt5p7ESoweBYK6faadsxnlqMl0NyuTeQ3ovyQ6f6MKa9e8jlD97q-HJAQUH-6BeP9uJt28Mnb_JyX2GB_GkVzFS19v_AT8AXjxzbZ75WKvGw/s1600/jessica.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I used to take my role of "Kid Cook" very seriously. I freaked out after calculating that my kids were eating more servings of fruit than vegetables. A ratio of 4 to 0. I bought Jessica Seinfeld's book, <u>Deceptively Delicious</u>, and pureed veggies every Sunday night to "hide" in the kids' food. Sorry to tell you Jessica, but my kids always knew something gross, like pureed cauliflower, was hidden in their food. ("But mom, we like the mac & cheese made with neon orange powder!") The brownies with pureed spinach flopped big time. ("Mom! What is wrong with you??)</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjBuFBrGZ0YkTOT15_8RNa8uPKcg93FN0JGMZvW8xMGttOlKm0wNzpef7hclnJa8ej3Cb6hKvj5tn-rjHFOskY-N_C98dKa0OwJu7YUep9BOq3dK1jraV6z5HiA9TfIoRZ54KtzNKK2aE/s1600/why.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjBuFBrGZ0YkTOT15_8RNa8uPKcg93FN0JGMZvW8xMGttOlKm0wNzpef7hclnJa8ej3Cb6hKvj5tn-rjHFOskY-N_C98dKa0OwJu7YUep9BOq3dK1jraV6z5HiA9TfIoRZ54KtzNKK2aE/s400/why.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The other night, cloaked in "Mom Guilt," I decided to bake an organic chicken for dinner. I would make a simple side of green beans (picked from our garden) and quinoa. It was a smallish chicken so I put it in at 4:00 to be done at 5:30. (I error on the side of over cooking chicken since I am 47 and don't have a meat thermometer.) I felt good about myself. I was making a wholesome meal that my children would appreciate and love me for.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRbjA-BmX1HPsQIr1ag3mHOihaDLyAgxT8h_OjCqQ8ghBcVi4gpVthnhxLx6XQQ3nJsrN3JprtbaYYmIP7XMBR1o3uQBoeM84f7zXjVkjx47QIa9pqKI8PV35wOvmpZKPpIXgaO-IWS5s/s1600/turkey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRbjA-BmX1HPsQIr1ag3mHOihaDLyAgxT8h_OjCqQ8ghBcVi4gpVthnhxLx6XQQ3nJsrN3JprtbaYYmIP7XMBR1o3uQBoeM84f7zXjVkjx47QIa9pqKI8PV35wOvmpZKPpIXgaO-IWS5s/s320/turkey.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">At 5:15 the kids started circling me, like turkey buzzards around a carcass, to find out what was for dinner. I proudly clicked on the oven light to show them the chicken. Satisfied I was doing my job, the kids returned to their rooms. At 5:30 I checked the chicken. Still slimy. At 5:40 I checked the chicken again. Nope. Still pink. At 6:10, I desperately tugged at the leg bone hoping it would pull from the chicken. No go. At 6:45 the chicken still wasn't done. Lulu was following me around alternately pointing at her mouth and stomach. The boys were sitting at the kitchen table kicking each other.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Then I snapped. I calmly took the chicken out of the oven, walked to the garage, and dumped the chicken in the garbage can. I was done, done, done. </span><br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">I didn't want to continue testing for "doneness." </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">I didn't want to continue answering the question, "Is dinner ready yet?" </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">I didn't want to carve the chicken, serve the chicken, pick its bones for extra meat, and make chicken broth in the slow cooker. </span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-size: large;">The kids made themselves PB & J sandwiches and lived to see another day.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I wish I felt guilty about throwing out the chicken, but I feel it saved my sanity. And what is wrong with having cereal for dinner?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Prairie Eydie</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>Prairie Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15607315139694984552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921053771391766398.post-43843553272109334142015-08-06T10:19:00.003-05:002015-08-06T10:19:38.191-05:00The Art of Being Someone Else - Part Two<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1hxDd5d6Vp0Bt_klWYseifbYZfqlqT_YGunn4MAgdorRvPZUHHm85T5j1jnDYaF2ZOTkPnODGZNnRw9ywVRGqykRXsPJE5zEdGyjQi7QnYz6LwkCcFb8EAKonSl_7sSyG3putoZUI5dg/s1600/coffee-saves-lives-just-ask-my-children.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1hxDd5d6Vp0Bt_klWYseifbYZfqlqT_YGunn4MAgdorRvPZUHHm85T5j1jnDYaF2ZOTkPnODGZNnRw9ywVRGqykRXsPJE5zEdGyjQi7QnYz6LwkCcFb8EAKonSl_7sSyG3putoZUI5dg/s320/coffee-saves-lives-just-ask-my-children.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I got off the phone ready to put Prairie Sherry's "End of the School Year Cleaning Routine" into reality. Fortifying myself with yet another iced coffee, I headed into my bedroom. (Trader Joe's Coffee Concentrate! Prairie Readers, I get absolutely NO kickbacks from Trader Joe's endorsements. I just want you to be as peppy as me!) </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">AND ONE PRECIOUS MONTH OF SUMMER VACATION PASSES </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZaVJITBftzW-znqWTMTZQ2GesMTejtk5UTOSNoAdcAJ7llpOcCeHULH1J3DhSLXsVGpwi0k7rLd-6R4FS2GqyBWrNue3RWP_2KauHZOg_yBYFSH3vnWu1LJZ2oVjyoeT_RjZwPDiHv88/s1600/keep-calm-and-eat-humble-pie-1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZaVJITBftzW-znqWTMTZQ2GesMTejtk5UTOSNoAdcAJ7llpOcCeHULH1J3DhSLXsVGpwi0k7rLd-6R4FS2GqyBWrNue3RWP_2KauHZOg_yBYFSH3vnWu1LJZ2oVjyoeT_RjZwPDiHv88/s320/keep-calm-and-eat-humble-pie-1.png" width="274" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Prairie Readers, I am eating a big ol' slice of humble pie. It is with tail tucked between my legs, that I admit Prairie Sherry was right. My cleaning energy level is "sloth" compared to her unattainable level of "hummingbird." I didn't come close to cleaning my entire house in one week. It took three days to go through every drawer in my bedroom and that is without going through every drawer! (I didn't go through my drawers of jewelry. Yes. You heard that right - drawers of jewelry.) Here is what happened.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxvjqT_RonLsuorb2iDtnOjkUJe1HH5zbqh9EfEykV_A29ivWyfa0LfcPyHD970gyUt_t36gNmo0BI2VlZnRz5HEFSsjq55QX37_ZNLRgNAISkjElPcFteM-urYRhbSXday-N3S3glzbI/s1600/cat.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxvjqT_RonLsuorb2iDtnOjkUJe1HH5zbqh9EfEykV_A29ivWyfa0LfcPyHD970gyUt_t36gNmo0BI2VlZnRz5HEFSsjq55QX37_ZNLRgNAISkjElPcFteM-urYRhbSXday-N3S3glzbI/s320/cat.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I talked to Prairie Sherry mid cleaning week. Not wanting to admit I was still in the first room.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Sherry: So? How is it going? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Eydie (Tugging furniture away from baseboards for thorough vacuuming): Great! Soon I will be tackling the kitchen.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Sherry: (Sharp intake of breath) You <em>do</em> know that is the most difficult room? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Eydie (Ripping curtains down to be washed, ironed, and rehung): Worse than the master bedroom?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Sherry: Much worse.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I left the curtains on the carpet (that was still cat hair enhanced) and slogged to the kitchen. Unicorns and glitter did not greet me. </span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ75a9rxgqyowMZjAULjf58XjWqhh2wjeXLuqRl-neVSzHXNWNyZkvFg2HTaTa4Nw_CU5hgYwJq8jMjXyVs2ZOnYz9u0vlfdtI2pqKx_9a-mF33vO4x_uunGjIgbKXauwJvtjPcq2Nv_0/s320/Cleaning+1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">This is my cupboard for fancy drinking glasses. OH! That is where the cat's ear cleaner is!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy5gLo2IEyx8qDofcXM9dMvjIYQPygo_tPD1ywEFhwpigC6vRAch8ZmM1CZY1VU_x85ycOzPOVzCFILKydD1Yo-iVZ9zmTicZxHwhZ77N71oHpIX6mS0PiubWJMIERw7zvCWgKojm2Irk/s1600/Cleaning+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy5gLo2IEyx8qDofcXM9dMvjIYQPygo_tPD1ywEFhwpigC6vRAch8ZmM1CZY1VU_x85ycOzPOVzCFILKydD1Yo-iVZ9zmTicZxHwhZ77N71oHpIX6mS0PiubWJMIERw7zvCWgKojm2Irk/s320/Cleaning+2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">My spice drawer. I spilled vanilla in January and forgot to clean it up. Not sure what the green stuff is.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The job of cleaning the kitchen was bigger than me. I was already way behind schedule and needed divine intervention. Enter - Prairie Ma. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheSw3co7zrzxDO2KAGQ-8tQS1DCXuVKmvC-3raZSLywjGZx4eYZaeLyRdO50Jczadep-RWBH9fpto2cD1Y7Q0iYD_or1Og3H_vozGWpq2RPiqDPHN1lOI86-ZH-__Jf2FCH_0THQj0UhI/s1600/cleaning+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheSw3co7zrzxDO2KAGQ-8tQS1DCXuVKmvC-3raZSLywjGZx4eYZaeLyRdO50Jczadep-RWBH9fpto2cD1Y7Q0iYD_or1Og3H_vozGWpq2RPiqDPHN1lOI86-ZH-__Jf2FCH_0THQj0UhI/s320/cleaning+4.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The challenge wasn't totally unsuccessful. My bedroom is in pretty good shape. The kitchen is in excellent shape, thanks to my long-suffering mother helping me. My advice to you is to ask for help when using the "Prairie Sherry End of the School Year Cleaning Routine."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Hmmm. I wonder if Sherry has a "Beginning of the School Year Cleaning Routine?" I bet she does.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Prairie Eydie</span><br />
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Prairie Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15607315139694984552noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921053771391766398.post-89154464449015668862015-06-25T18:36:00.000-05:002015-06-25T18:51:24.355-05:00The Art of Being Someone Else Part 1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-66Bzyqf2PY2nDqNgzYu1NWslXIrdEsyJHflzR3iGmiCeE2AMpgJMJTp90s9GpN66uf-rPIh2TvGEy7sVl1Bisxt8sY_9N2bC9Dv7eu5CYjPudYB72140FoavqZPQM3XkueZ4rm02hUo/s1600/summer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-66Bzyqf2PY2nDqNgzYu1NWslXIrdEsyJHflzR3iGmiCeE2AMpgJMJTp90s9GpN66uf-rPIh2TvGEy7sVl1Bisxt8sY_9N2bC9Dv7eu5CYjPudYB72140FoavqZPQM3XkueZ4rm02hUo/s320/summer.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am well into week two of summer vacation. I spent the first morning of summer vacation thinking about different ways I could be productive and really get my house into order during vacation. After three glasses of iced coffee, laced with 1/2 and 1/2, I still didn't have much of a plan beyond throwing out moldy bath toys. So I called Prairie Sherry, a woman who <em>always</em> has a plan.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">(NOTE: Official Prairie Grlz endorsement.) </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaqs3IOIRo3AsSjsyAdgOxZFT0wguoOFb6UVR4XM4k41xk-WNO51-wPgAjTsl1DqTQNUEUVNqTFbLoqzjKl9QBi10flzPbfTbmdASXEOV36Oc0Me66s_55oPJmExJ4XCuRHuThfz-hOkI/s1600/coffee+concentrate.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaqs3IOIRo3AsSjsyAdgOxZFT0wguoOFb6UVR4XM4k41xk-WNO51-wPgAjTsl1DqTQNUEUVNqTFbLoqzjKl9QBi10flzPbfTbmdASXEOV36Oc0Me66s_55oPJmExJ4XCuRHuThfz-hOkI/s320/coffee+concentrate.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I love you Trader Joe's Coffee Concentrate. You offer such a variety of ways to get a caffeine buzz.</span> </td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span> <span style="font-size: large;">Prairie Eydie: My house is dingy due to 9 months of consistent neglect. The kids' bathroom is caked with Crest, there are stacks of school papers on the kitchen island, and the entry way is basically a sandbox. I remember you saying how you spent the first week of summer vacation cleaning your house so everything would be clean.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Crickets. Crickets. Crickets.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Prairie Eydie: Are you still there?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Prairie Sherry (sniffing): Yes, I am. I just hesitate to tell you what I did. I am not you will be able to handle it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Prairie Eydie: I <em>CAN</em> handle it. I am ready for this. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Prairie Sherry: You will need to go through your house one room at a time. Every drawer is gone through a wiped out. Every shelf is emptied and scrubbed. Furniture is moved away from the walls and vacuumed behind. Baseboards are dusted. Bedding is aired out. Windows are washed. Ceiling fans are dusted. Lamp shades are vacuumed. Tassels are combed . . . </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Prairie Eydie (interrupting): Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. I can handle all of that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Prairie Sherry: I create a master list and work off of that for the week. It is exhausting work. One thing you never must do is go from room to room. You stay in one room until it is completely cleaned. The only exception is the last day when you will shampoo all the carpets.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Praire Eydie (jotting down notes with a blue crayon): Got it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Prairie Sherry: Remember I am very Type "A". I worry someone like you might not be suited for such a cleaning. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">CLICK</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipyyQ82Y5E9itOnc4Hwnn3hOi3XKTVbwnMLhzhp7RSyGxOuhAoP87qbcq2Q-TniF0IbjNbjMWwsKXRersPZnZbHD8CrATh6r4_5fjnj-w5MNUaNrpW87nrriytMtMOWT2AbQM8V6OJTeQ/s1600/carson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipyyQ82Y5E9itOnc4Hwnn3hOi3XKTVbwnMLhzhp7RSyGxOuhAoP87qbcq2Q-TniF0IbjNbjMWwsKXRersPZnZbHD8CrATh6r4_5fjnj-w5MNUaNrpW87nrriytMtMOWT2AbQM8V6OJTeQ/s320/carson.jpg" width="291" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Prairie Sherry and Carson - A match made in heaven.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">You won't want to miss Part Two of "The Art of Being Someone Else." Are my baseboards buffed? My pillows puffed? My Goodwill bags stuffed? My make-up brushes fluffed?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Prairie Eydie</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />Prairie Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15607315139694984552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921053771391766398.post-32329607047785364612015-06-11T14:02:00.000-05:002015-06-11T14:03:34.108-05:00Prairie Eydie Loses Mother of the Year Title (once again)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSzP37IIBWwQIsx0kyK8KABDctZWbxzikRknsjvuPtd25mBQGZ-1UEJuj9RU_6Ht2vcLmg0AO21ZNWJvQ64zLcIB-hMFg1S6ARrQzwLW5HDrX_JG9Fp0dgEX-Auwk0bLAjCswhTf9_7lA/s1600/award.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSzP37IIBWwQIsx0kyK8KABDctZWbxzikRknsjvuPtd25mBQGZ-1UEJuj9RU_6Ht2vcLmg0AO21ZNWJvQ64zLcIB-hMFg1S6ARrQzwLW5HDrX_JG9Fp0dgEX-Auwk0bLAjCswhTf9_7lA/s320/award.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Mother's Day has come and gone. Sadly, yet again, I did <i>not</i> receive the coveted "Mother of the Year" award. I try <em>so </em>hard every year, but am bumped out of the running by mothers who lovingly bake zucchini kale muffins for breakfast and iron 100% cotton button down shirts. For a "Mother of the Year" victory next year, I need improvement in the following areas: laundry, haircuts, and school artwork archival. If I can do this, the trophy will be mine.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am a single mom with three kids. I work full time and try to keep sane by going to boot camp (which kinda makes me insane - with all the tire flipping and med ball slamming), creating art, and blogging. It is hard to fit laundry into my life, but I must if I want to take home the trophy. Here is what my laundry room currently looks like -</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTuow4KB_mW2NojokFKk1w9scQN1uFfEhEwAumhqo5txSrsozzYAFwwbiXhGYMGX41_213wU9feprxQ9w1LuOAuQkBruzWCOug7Skar-9lLbk0LfWRV8FsxtKI6KYWsVQcbHT5T3kLgek/s1600/laundry+room.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTuow4KB_mW2NojokFKk1w9scQN1uFfEhEwAumhqo5txSrsozzYAFwwbiXhGYMGX41_213wU9feprxQ9w1LuOAuQkBruzWCOug7Skar-9lLbk0LfWRV8FsxtKI6KYWsVQcbHT5T3kLgek/s320/laundry+room.jpg" width="252" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">A moldering mess. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdgr-LVuV3yvsaoVYGL2fsoVojs8m1HfR8epfr_VNKkS3R1LOp9krLhMG9xFfICPG8jcTBoMlFCcLsatVawNbO5FfBhTElLRaHfE1uMRHp_DR0VeXsPkCgH46MuQhIsq9oOnFmSuvr-P8/s1600/clean+laundry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdgr-LVuV3yvsaoVYGL2fsoVojs8m1HfR8epfr_VNKkS3R1LOp9krLhMG9xFfICPG8jcTBoMlFCcLsatVawNbO5FfBhTElLRaHfE1uMRHp_DR0VeXsPkCgH46MuQhIsq9oOnFmSuvr-P8/s320/clean+laundry.jpg" width="223" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Clean clothes in the basket AND in the drier! The clothes must wait patiently for folding. I like to wait until things are good and wrinkled before giving them the shake down. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yesterday it was 90 degrees out. (I was wearing a breezey, clean sundress.) I was outside surveying my garden, and saw my oldest son, Leonard, walking down the street wearing a long sleeved hoodie and jeans. I immediately accosted him for wearing such a stupid outfit on a hot day. He politely waited for me to finish before saying, "Mom, I have no clean shorts. Yeah. And I have no clean t-shirts. Plus, you forgot to buy me sandals. (Hmmm. I will also have to improve on kids' clothes shopping. I seem to do quite well when it involves shopping for me.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Later, when my middle child, Gus, was getting ready for bed. He said, "You DO know that we have been wearing dirty socks all week. We get them out of the hamper every morning." No. I did not know that. I did what I assume most moms do - I immediately drove to Target and bought a couple new packs of socks for the boys.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I know of moms who spend the school year curating museum quality scrap books and galleries of their children's artwork. I, on the other hand, have started throwing my kids art projects in the garbage when they are sleeping. Just look at what Leonard brought home the other day - </span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqzBr_xB1rwgE8gS2tjDQnqhf-dSUgYdiMRTMS0aeVarwqKrlhc3qJTQmRp0GSX8X4dKD4upFQR3ndBCETjG9us7Tl7aekhJn7xm16Un3tOQEX5ZaIzVn2psrEjd-pE3r9j9DPislqssY/s1600/clay+thing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqzBr_xB1rwgE8gS2tjDQnqhf-dSUgYdiMRTMS0aeVarwqKrlhc3qJTQmRp0GSX8X4dKD4upFQR3ndBCETjG9us7Tl7aekhJn7xm16Un3tOQEX5ZaIzVn2psrEjd-pE3r9j9DPislqssY/s320/clay+thing.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Something not even a mother could love. It is also jagged and sharp, practically a weapon.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">What is it? A failed attempt at pottery, I guess. But I am determined to be "Mother of the Year 2016," so I will either find a cute way to display this lump or save it forever in a Rubbermaid tote. Yes. Award winning mothers have lots and lots of totes.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-ZOtDUn-yHJORhSj3W6PlU9uN9omtk9yfAEZl5LXWRfNxrYvxJhgcc6Q7b_nOnhys25SQm4cfwMlVD-SiXCwytr7FzAK7X2uz6qhs12JIRTf7-b1jXn_gK1NmY87Ea09v-oWH3ZXNnP4/s1600/keith-partridge-and-the-partridge-family.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-ZOtDUn-yHJORhSj3W6PlU9uN9omtk9yfAEZl5LXWRfNxrYvxJhgcc6Q7b_nOnhys25SQm4cfwMlVD-SiXCwytr7FzAK7X2uz6qhs12JIRTf7-b1jXn_gK1NmY87Ea09v-oWH3ZXNnP4/s320/keith-partridge-and-the-partridge-family.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Awww. I think I LOVE this low maintenance hairstyle.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Finally, I have to get the kids on a haircut schedule. I need to stop hoping that the "Keith Partridge Look" will be back in style at any moment. It is not going to make a comeback and I am going to have to pay the money for regular trims. Often I have to pay for haircuts twice. Once at Cost Cutters and then again at a decent salon to fix what happened at Cost Cutters. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Okay Prairie Friends - I am off to throw in a couple loads of laundry.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Prairie Eydie</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>Prairie Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15607315139694984552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921053771391766398.post-55632525910751715972015-06-05T07:09:00.001-05:002015-06-06T08:23:00.862-05:00The Art Of Healing--Prairie Sherry's Way<span style="font-size: large;">It has been a week since my surgery to set and plate my broken arm, and while the plaster splint, cotton batting, and two ace bandages are hot, sweaty, and cumbersome, I am in little pain and healing quite nicely. I am not, however, probably behaving according to doctor's orders because I didn't receive any.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://bgassociates.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/Boomer-Man-Harley-Rider.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://bgassociates.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/Boomer-Man-Harley-Rider.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The do rag is just covering a gaping head wound.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I found that when you break a bone around Memorial Day, unless it is sticking through your skin, you will probably be triaged as low priority. Higher priority are the holiday Harley riders who have smashed their helmet-less skulls on the pavement during their first ride of the season or the barbeque "masters" who have first degree burns following the fireball that commenced the grilling season. I waited five days for surgery after my dazzling fall on a rocky ledge. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Q7bER31HUmSa1yhYlZIjD2H8t0BJfb6m4QJPpYhJZrw9mMYXjzd-4tMfmSjG5pWGEGA1fSBs0DmNnTr51mYfuHAi7EtJ4efWr8xnJqkylZq9g28m6OUmWFBsdPFeAs-4P0s0j3nrYuc/s1600/IMG_2678.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Q7bER31HUmSa1yhYlZIjD2H8t0BJfb6m4QJPpYhJZrw9mMYXjzd-4tMfmSjG5pWGEGA1fSBs0DmNnTr51mYfuHAi7EtJ4efWr8xnJqkylZq9g28m6OUmWFBsdPFeAs-4P0s0j3nrYuc/s320/IMG_2678.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Looking down into the abyss that<br />proved to be my undoing.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">Post op, too, seemed a bit hurried and sketchy. I never met the actual surgeon while conscious, the occupational therapist didn't showed up, and I only had to suggest that perhaps I didn't need to stay overnight before I was dumped out of the wheelchair right by valet parking. The nurse didn't seem terribly concerned that my daughter would have to drag her drugged-up mother to the third floor of the parking ramp and load her into the car.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So I came home with no instructions. Of course, having been through all of this before, I know what I should and should not be doing, but just the fact that I wasn't looked at sternly, lectured, and then given a printed page of things to avoid has given me permission to do things my way.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Day One of Recovery:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I go back to work as a cashier. I work an eight-hour shift checking out grocery orders. I also bag those orders one-handed.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1LnkJOopkHMmdPVWtrRQ4mxLP7WaGrHiodaom_HZrU5vgZHq3ctojhZc1GZafcMJg4_PabLGYktkzxPztpZAvWTJFgZWhgE8XivIkndwyfoS9Pqa89_4SUabnoLK-LsF1KXwnrI7n2lg/s1600/IMG_2756.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1LnkJOopkHMmdPVWtrRQ4mxLP7WaGrHiodaom_HZrU5vgZHq3ctojhZc1GZafcMJg4_PabLGYktkzxPztpZAvWTJFgZWhgE8XivIkndwyfoS9Pqa89_4SUabnoLK-LsF1KXwnrI7n2lg/s320/IMG_2756.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">10 pound bag of potatoes? No problem!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Day Two of Recovery:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am back to work again, but this time I bag adding the splinted arm. I go home and wash the dog--wrestling all 18 pounds him in and out of the laundry tub with one arm. I decide to wash the other three dogs as well. At 9, 11, and 14 pounds, they are a cinch. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiToL_l1_f_ZfUqDHj3ioYvnVDEOIYKwb0TrV3HeINU040tBsOk6LErLQ47lrfXwRisXH7AnW0IdiPMGsm_MbsacTfsxWdu-Qm8HrLJg2qX8OygzCyVrJW2Eb7Cj-DeNSkWbdr4HsqdwOY/s1600/IMG_2739.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiToL_l1_f_ZfUqDHj3ioYvnVDEOIYKwb0TrV3HeINU040tBsOk6LErLQ47lrfXwRisXH7AnW0IdiPMGsm_MbsacTfsxWdu-Qm8HrLJg2qX8OygzCyVrJW2Eb7Cj-DeNSkWbdr4HsqdwOY/s320/IMG_2739.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Next time I hope she breaks both arms.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Day Three of Recovery:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I work another eight hour shift. With my free evening, I decide to make 10 pounds of pulled pork for my daughter's graduation party. I successfully manage the butcher knife without severing arteries.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIb9yil5MLR_FetD1X7rjpovrvrJyHcy1_lWnUVJkX7b48RvnFMg1KMl_jKoxyHRBlq2NCf3BiBpRtGO3YWqWUbyPT1X2DNI2s_epJheVlv6jbD2kgJq-sU81AkukvX0s8-TdXQNCffo4/s1600/IMG_2741.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIb9yil5MLR_FetD1X7rjpovrvrJyHcy1_lWnUVJkX7b48RvnFMg1KMl_jKoxyHRBlq2NCf3BiBpRtGO3YWqWUbyPT1X2DNI2s_epJheVlv6jbD2kgJq-sU81AkukvX0s8-TdXQNCffo4/s320/IMG_2741.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Getting it out of the pot was the tricky part.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Day Four of Recovery:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I have a day off, so I tackle the lawn. I figure out how to maneuver the Torro with one hand. Did I mention that we have a hilly, oversized corner lot?</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1xpdeUs01mAEHk1GiS7HnWoZxhJmHGNoSGtmZS6Qhc3oc3KAeh4nLEPShsE6D7pSm_QS1nyAwCbXHZLAdh2l4OAfrrdXrGIrOlF_fDjtBJZsqHfVjW1uPJlZ4rkmmxgYalRx3eNMPqvo/s1600/IMG_2740.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1xpdeUs01mAEHk1GiS7HnWoZxhJmHGNoSGtmZS6Qhc3oc3KAeh4nLEPShsE6D7pSm_QS1nyAwCbXHZLAdh2l4OAfrrdXrGIrOlF_fDjtBJZsqHfVjW1uPJlZ4rkmmxgYalRx3eNMPqvo/s320/IMG_2740.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I fought the mower, and I won.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Day Five of Recovery:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Another day off, so I clean the house top to bottom. My only concession to the broken arm is that I don't scrub the kitchen and dining room tile on my hand(s) and knees, but enlist the aid of my steam cleaner. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnS1vNI79QliL7DFyCZ44ReC_U_0W9u3UUZCVZwpvViFFiSdkW42yVAsDV26m5GybC1c8D3VMC7yUfbmZ6QOmXGff90AQwtlUMr8hZCsztO4-K0PA7GciaFaZW_XGwxTj8geuR8mu9FAE/s1600/IMG_2742.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnS1vNI79QliL7DFyCZ44ReC_U_0W9u3UUZCVZwpvViFFiSdkW42yVAsDV26m5GybC1c8D3VMC7yUfbmZ6QOmXGff90AQwtlUMr8hZCsztO4-K0PA7GciaFaZW_XGwxTj8geuR8mu9FAE/s320/IMG_2742.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I wonder if Ma Ingalls used one of<br />these in that Plum Creek dugout?</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">When I have finally settled down to a class of ice tea and a book, a gust of wind takes the patio umbrella off of our second floor deck, and sends toppling to the deck below. I manage to close it and drag it up a flight of stairs to its rightful home.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJSoBVrQXqoZ7WFxVW0rN6FtXlRcMG_IAT7FLBGeA2MMczgBCj7g-b5D66kAzuk4I0TFak149E64vNmNqLnbexJihA8TmICFZ0hDX04owxEM2fzm-r7KGMBAp66KxvL7PH_aNeKNt3uZQ/s1600/IMG_2745.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJSoBVrQXqoZ7WFxVW0rN6FtXlRcMG_IAT7FLBGeA2MMczgBCj7g-b5D66kAzuk4I0TFak149E64vNmNqLnbexJihA8TmICFZ0hDX04owxEM2fzm-r7KGMBAp66KxvL7PH_aNeKNt3uZQ/s320/IMG_2745.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Oops!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Day Six of Recovery:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I break the only rule I was given at the hospital ("Don't remove the ace bandages!"), and I redress my split with one hand. The bandages are covered in grass stains, pork fat, and cleaning residue. I really have no other choice. I sweep out the garage and wash three loads of laundry.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ZEK7ZQ1fSPP8blR4Dm_u5_Af-yhth_ovLGrydPdduFU3WLwM1UF7M-nQQ-ICrAaeTVb1aJAxd4A0ZCKEspIwk7PQJTRUH9ppXfy3fPv4OcHPIr_BSxYRlBTkGRyN4M_JVh7XsAhMNGs/s1600/IMG_2744.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ZEK7ZQ1fSPP8blR4Dm_u5_Af-yhth_ovLGrydPdduFU3WLwM1UF7M-nQQ-ICrAaeTVb1aJAxd4A0ZCKEspIwk7PQJTRUH9ppXfy3fPv4OcHPIr_BSxYRlBTkGRyN4M_JVh7XsAhMNGs/s320/IMG_2744.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Impressive one-handed wrapping.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Day Seven of Recovery:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I have taken it easy today. I met Prairie Eydie for breakfast, and then I came home to do some light gardening. The bandage really needs changing again.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">On June 10th I have an appointment with my surgeon. I suspect that he with then give me permission to go back to work on a limited basis and begin some light physical therapy. I will smile at him sweetly, nod intently, and agree to all of his suggestions demands. He is, of course, the expert.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Prairie Sherry </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">A little disclaimer here. In case you are concerned, I did none of the above while under the influence of the narcotics the surgeon prescribed. I ditched those right after surgery. Didn't follow the directions for those either. </span>Prairie Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15607315139694984552noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921053771391766398.post-19298691573516827502015-06-02T14:01:00.000-05:002015-06-02T14:01:38.021-05:00Top 6 Reasons Why Prairie Eydie is Posting Late<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFo5LbKrXecuqveiThiQXOsKR9gfC2ndq1bmarnHH_HZE9Gjql2UJNCa7mkmJUBzqOWUXOLTTKwM2wJ0MbPYhmpkny2ZmU39eKIhjO49Rmn2RqhxvFkZCcbfgdYPB3DyjUOGJ4BoOofm4/s1600/outhouse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFo5LbKrXecuqveiThiQXOsKR9gfC2ndq1bmarnHH_HZE9Gjql2UJNCa7mkmJUBzqOWUXOLTTKwM2wJ0MbPYhmpkny2ZmU39eKIhjO49Rmn2RqhxvFkZCcbfgdYPB3DyjUOGJ4BoOofm4/s320/outhouse.jpg" width="234" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Can I come out now, Prairie Sherry? I posted.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am in the outhouse with Prairie Sherry. Monday came and went and I didn't post. Part of me was hoping that Prairie Pa would come through with his much anticipated, "How to Eat for Free as a Senior Citizen," post. But he didn't. He is too busy gardening and avoiding Home Depot. Sigh. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As a teacher, I hear lots of excuses. So here are my top 6 excuses for my late blog.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLBMA6q2cpM5LhmUltNCeiC_x6sxgDtQpl-JbO6yIGnBBcBcdzUwM0D2VrBHMJ-GbIn2h8PyTdZrLPcM8VjYwdv2hiqo4w1M1nLezpH2uyZN7PXfkK-0bzJ0ADd-34gKTssJRWxyVWuvQ/s1600/calvin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="126" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLBMA6q2cpM5LhmUltNCeiC_x6sxgDtQpl-JbO6yIGnBBcBcdzUwM0D2VrBHMJ-GbIn2h8PyTdZrLPcM8VjYwdv2hiqo4w1M1nLezpH2uyZN7PXfkK-0bzJ0ADd-34gKTssJRWxyVWuvQ/s400/calvin.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">6. I have 8 days of school left and my students have lost their minds. My energy is being slurped up listening to comments like, "Why do we have to always read in here?" or "Can't we do something fun today?" or "You should buy us cupcakes."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">5. I am spending a lot of time flossing my teeth and massaging my gums. Plus I am chewing gum with xylitol five times a day. This takes time people! I got yet another bad checkup with my <i>mouthy</i> dental hygienist. If she doesn't say something positive to me at my next appointment, I am bailing.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">4. I am reading an awesome book! And I am recommending it to you, Prairie Friends.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdqo2xXEunHPnbnnV8OUa1zhCMgt3tGntCgJuufMs2rS76ugp5gDj7vb2VGlWgbRuDaQblZ7yGrTllwSEMSLLTEuxWOGferluTgsGtY7WguxU_EVOnzPbDHbBInPYObwbwZQg-cOJcplI/s1600/harold+fry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdqo2xXEunHPnbnnV8OUa1zhCMgt3tGntCgJuufMs2rS76ugp5gDj7vb2VGlWgbRuDaQblZ7yGrTllwSEMSLLTEuxWOGferluTgsGtY7WguxU_EVOnzPbDHbBInPYObwbwZQg-cOJcplI/s320/harold+fry.jpg" width="206" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> 3. Did I mention that I only have 8 days of school left?</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN95bISUxAfWjs8UShEXlC93Om__HohvGbwf8jqXkKG-Dv8ue8wDSk9vQsgmICis6jNbPCcqVTOfNBOpYMjThnswzK5AWthUChPZeaYITSfEpKaxkQBmnW42p0ApnMvj-wsliAw8D6Yak/s1600/cherry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="128" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN95bISUxAfWjs8UShEXlC93Om__HohvGbwf8jqXkKG-Dv8ue8wDSk9vQsgmICis6jNbPCcqVTOfNBOpYMjThnswzK5AWthUChPZeaYITSfEpKaxkQBmnW42p0ApnMvj-wsliAw8D6Yak/s320/cherry.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">We all look at the same sunset, Ponyboy. But I don't know why we have to look at the same post, day after day.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">2. The 7th graders are reading The Outsiders. Wednesday is dress like a Soc or a Greaser day. I have been spending a lot of time combing the Madison-area, St. Vinny's for a red wig so I can go as Cherry Valance. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj7Eef_ctGNfCwAHOr9PuYgD9BdsiWgwScsaQCzPrWCKjpVwncVm3ex5YvKRlCTDEWlMELrSBrwWGxbSVr7TM61Vzdg0Vk_XnddShqc4dKn0RQzTWPsNe652eM4mLFfgzKeirHjgbSSIU/s1600/gus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj7Eef_ctGNfCwAHOr9PuYgD9BdsiWgwScsaQCzPrWCKjpVwncVm3ex5YvKRlCTDEWlMELrSBrwWGxbSVr7TM61Vzdg0Vk_XnddShqc4dKn0RQzTWPsNe652eM4mLFfgzKeirHjgbSSIU/s320/gus.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I want to be just like Prairie Sherry when I grow up. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">1. My middle son, Gus, broke his arm. Horseplay on the swing set with his older brother. When you have three kids, this is bound to happen. I could not even look at his arm until it was all wrapped up and in a sling. (Yet another reason why I will not be "Mother of the Year." When my kids are injured I throw gasoline on the fire by becoming hysterical. My hysteria usually brings about vomiting on their part.) He will need surgery, which is scheduled for Thursday - SIX DAYS after breaking his arm. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Hmmmmm. Maybe I can talk Gus into watching Downton Abbey, Season 3 with me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Prairie Eydie </span>Prairie Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15607315139694984552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921053771391766398.post-33313038555040624422015-05-29T08:33:00.000-05:002015-05-29T19:44:43.983-05:00The Art of Accepting a Setback<span style="font-size: large;">I am coming off of a two-day binge of House of Cards. Paranoia is setting in. I no longer trust my iPhone. You'll never get me near railroad tracks. I pray that my personal fashion icon, Michelle Obama, is nothing like Claire Underwood, although I do admire Claire's understated chic.</span><br />
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<a href="http://33.media.tumblr.com/4e36b21737142318275f04657110c8e5/tumblr_inline_n9xvy0xhq31qj16yu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://33.media.tumblr.com/4e36b21737142318275f04657110c8e5/tumblr_inline_n9xvy0xhq31qj16yu.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">Why would I sit in front of a screen on a glorious spring day? Why would I be typing this with one hand, and not very successfully? Let me tell you. </span><span style="font-size: large;">I broke my arm. Again!</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6v2na5Rz7LOctL0qT4tLnbNP8MeZ_deHzYjmDemRGWi9S-N1VGy5KcZ4s3NK4JoDqdYqEbTgYFhdDnxILQI8ataUo06njNMWqSVsWWaTIBtscDgrpF-sMDhu0lNgFtVC7Pi_Y05-NMlY/s1600/IMG_2704.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6v2na5Rz7LOctL0qT4tLnbNP8MeZ_deHzYjmDemRGWi9S-N1VGy5KcZ4s3NK4JoDqdYqEbTgYFhdDnxILQI8ataUo06njNMWqSVsWWaTIBtscDgrpF-sMDhu0lNgFtVC7Pi_Y05-NMlY/s320/IMG_2704.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Post accident and post surgery.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It started last Thursday when smarty-pants Prairie Sherry decided to leave the safety of the plains and hiked up a bluff at Devil's Lake State Park. This is a photo of me enjoying a zen moment at the top of the rock-strewn bluff I had just climbed.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_o8NHym2V_zm14E14Pn7L6M1EwrSWk0GttKSYa6jtvEsalRa7xYh_c2MCOABB5lBVYFXAgCcGmDX0MsLgL1d9S8Qxb8p9arJdRWuX5P57n9hyUhZ85ndgVxvaN4spaVujug3r0-GMFWc/s1600/imagejpeg_1+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_o8NHym2V_zm14E14Pn7L6M1EwrSWk0GttKSYa6jtvEsalRa7xYh_c2MCOABB5lBVYFXAgCcGmDX0MsLgL1d9S8Qxb8p9arJdRWuX5P57n9hyUhZ85ndgVxvaN4spaVujug3r0-GMFWc/s320/imagejpeg_1+%25282%2529.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Actually, I was just trying<br />to get my heart rate back to<br />normal.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Then I started the climb down. I don't think my mind was at a higher plain of consciousness as my foot slipped on that rock and I hit the ground. Nine hours and two ERs later, I returned home.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmtA9zt7_-CeZ5-mcLOLMuVh0jh3CsEL2LYcptKi7seUGnjXYYTCp38oxBZEiUaU5nSiv4yfcgGALt7o9LAkjkSvDeFuCd3BVsQABwuLh8h281GJIopj27t12WoexwYDPbBGmbB8vLZFI/s1600/IMG_2701.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmtA9zt7_-CeZ5-mcLOLMuVh0jh3CsEL2LYcptKi7seUGnjXYYTCp38oxBZEiUaU5nSiv4yfcgGALt7o9LAkjkSvDeFuCd3BVsQABwuLh8h281GJIopj27t12WoexwYDPbBGmbB8vLZFI/s320/IMG_2701.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Honey, I'm home.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yup, they let me keep the hospital gown because there was no way I was letting them put that long sleeved t-shirt back on. I'm sure Michelle or Claire would wear it much better.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The arm is now set, plated in titanium, and ensconced in plaster. I will have to put aside any near-future plans of world domination a la Claire Underwood. I would never be able to get one of her signature slender sheaths over this bandaged appendage let alone zip up the zipper. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.nymannequin.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/hoc1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.nymannequin.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/hoc1.png" height="228" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Frank, would you put that call to Putin on hold and unzip<br />this damn zipper?</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Looks like a summer of sloppy t-shirts and elastic-waisted shorts ahead for me.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Prairie Sherry</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">PS</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I would be remiss if I did not thank my dear friend, Cindy, for getting me off that bluff, driving to two ER's, and listening to my incoherent drug-induced ramblings for 8 hours. She has earned the title of Prairie Cindy.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP697t0wuBZVqLFgZmSkuHdcVjbZGZFQIP0H7RE45YQGgKdr63wdlNFqdAw1xmcLb5We0IfwcfZpeLfmvyXWzUwEiQBmqdTlkehKLRqLUN01_CAHHZXYtK8vfvJ8C8IZc9HA_eqKAl84M/s1600/IMG_2662.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP697t0wuBZVqLFgZmSkuHdcVjbZGZFQIP0H7RE45YQGgKdr63wdlNFqdAw1xmcLb5We0IfwcfZpeLfmvyXWzUwEiQBmqdTlkehKLRqLUN01_CAHHZXYtK8vfvJ8C8IZc9HA_eqKAl84M/s320/IMG_2662.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Bless you, Prairie Cindy!</span></td></tr>
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Prairie Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15607315139694984552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921053771391766398.post-10271404999116163892015-05-27T11:16:00.000-05:002015-05-27T13:54:55.796-05:00Top 10 Reasons Why the School Year Should End NOW!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX-METR9Um4h08YcIZ6VM7BR_YMYLJTq03Qe0ttPWlNhNkgy8OL34GUN62N4-mEPvb3Xd2-qfhuGrJfPSUVbqhc_o6uCMRBa65b0A9lwWbBEwy3yPlMxztnbFxgc8PVp9HnbvVuL8Et6E/s1600/chart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX-METR9Um4h08YcIZ6VM7BR_YMYLJTq03Qe0ttPWlNhNkgy8OL34GUN62N4-mEPvb3Xd2-qfhuGrJfPSUVbqhc_o6uCMRBa65b0A9lwWbBEwy3yPlMxztnbFxgc8PVp9HnbvVuL8Et6E/s320/chart.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This is my 25th year of teaching. For the most part, I enjoy being a teacher. But frankly, I am sick of school extending into the first two weeks of June. By the end of May everyone is freaking about about test scores, ridiculous student behavior, and moving classrooms. To put it simply. Teachers are done. Students are done. Today, I am starting a movement to end school by the end of May. </span><br />
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<span style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"><b>Prairie Eydie's Top Ten Reasons Why the School Year Should End NOW!</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">10. Yesterday two of my students (in different hours) used hand sanitizer to clean their shoes instead of completing their reading assignment.</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcqmia0_G2FobNNo8yPI1Q8bu9-lgVHJX_7ahjsPWmbLi8_vmhK4NA0sh_TlaSUw18mMcfFit3chKVzIyMqh6w7b6ydVDw6CRPyvS8WWaMuKcqdqCj5ww3hps9oBdwJsGPtNOIj3-QORM/s1600/Hey+Girl+-+Lesson+Plans.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcqmia0_G2FobNNo8yPI1Q8bu9-lgVHJX_7ahjsPWmbLi8_vmhK4NA0sh_TlaSUw18mMcfFit3chKVzIyMqh6w7b6ydVDw6CRPyvS8WWaMuKcqdqCj5ww3hps9oBdwJsGPtNOIj3-QORM/s320/Hey+Girl+-+Lesson+Plans.jpg" width="276" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I wish I could be this kinda girl. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">9. I have run out of ideas and am now recycling lesson plans from September.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9ocR6EnIGmuef4Ah3gh3JpTj1NnoPPX3twi9Xgb4uNyxkPas_cfhAKqo9UTCiACLTisvUhvTrs53Gf3cdVooPNMti9u1Fo1dj5Ybj2RPNMtsKVk4Z8nWbN4eoaUedId3iZSXcz8aGofA/s1600/denied.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9ocR6EnIGmuef4Ah3gh3JpTj1NnoPPX3twi9Xgb4uNyxkPas_cfhAKqo9UTCiACLTisvUhvTrs53Gf3cdVooPNMti9u1Fo1dj5Ybj2RPNMtsKVk4Z8nWbN4eoaUedId3iZSXcz8aGofA/s320/denied.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I double dirty dog dare Suze Orman to come and deny me my Starbucks on June 1st. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">8. It now takes 2 venti, dark roast coffees from Starbucks to get me through the day. Ugh. This is playing havoc on both my gut and budget. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">7. Heads-Up, Seven-Up & Silent Ball now seem like a challenging extension activities.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEBvj9BG4y4_Mfl4gfTP6UmNXbAr-hJTpWVL0TkmZ9JbAnqV0KecU9M__4YfKsyQC3Xoin7o6hYIHcrJ75SoYhtzVb8o2JOE4BUpDzd8Kiu20F4vYUOTRNXhGh7ZkmjR-hXcL1TLtXG1A/s1600/scarlett.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEBvj9BG4y4_Mfl4gfTP6UmNXbAr-hJTpWVL0TkmZ9JbAnqV0KecU9M__4YfKsyQC3Xoin7o6hYIHcrJ75SoYhtzVb8o2JOE4BUpDzd8Kiu20F4vYUOTRNXhGh7ZkmjR-hXcL1TLtXG1A/s1600/scarlett.jpg" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">6. The answer to any pressing issues like chronic tardies and alignment to the Common Core is: "Oh right. I will deal with that next year." </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">5. "Good Enough" has indeed become "Good Enough." Gone are the discussions of high expectations and pushing yourself to the breaking point. I, for one, am already at my breaking point.</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL74i0xDlsoBxE8biTwGWbIgqGIhC4uIj7NiQ-Ok4lPIy4cUop9xFhXiQwyHOUwkzQSl8dV3gpOoRxxfPjMq7onvXkKQTkFLVbf4Z66pfhxtbuvMkHWIV9wnqTxogVN5uXF8KalB0KcX4/s1600/crazy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL74i0xDlsoBxE8biTwGWbIgqGIhC4uIj7NiQ-Ok4lPIy4cUop9xFhXiQwyHOUwkzQSl8dV3gpOoRxxfPjMq7onvXkKQTkFLVbf4Z66pfhxtbuvMkHWIV9wnqTxogVN5uXF8KalB0KcX4/s400/crazy.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">School Spirit requires way too much effort. Especially if I am DENIED my morning coffee. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">4. No one has the spirit to participate in Spirit Week. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">3. A career move to barista seems strategic. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">2. Suddenly those boxy, school t-shirts (issued at the beginning of the school year) are looking pretty good.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsIju5a9SQ-iR2jsg5znwU293dOe-cPVN6yqHlIlX28TrwmyGC2OjUuhpRxxwoTm4B1I4EBC8bRRquQeoShw7XFvYBMHEg7NhpXSSqQRBxxf7ZtP7CUm5K8opLLgC_abvxZoYNRszo49M/s1600/david.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsIju5a9SQ-iR2jsg5znwU293dOe-cPVN6yqHlIlX28TrwmyGC2OjUuhpRxxwoTm4B1I4EBC8bRRquQeoShw7XFvYBMHEg7NhpXSSqQRBxxf7ZtP7CUm5K8opLLgC_abvxZoYNRszo49M/s1600/david.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I will be smiling June 11th too, Dave!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">1. Since David Letterman is done, I should be too. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Prairie Eydie</span></div>
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Prairie Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15607315139694984552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921053771391766398.post-33038588156288741852015-05-22T14:51:00.000-05:002015-05-22T16:59:20.885-05:00The Art Of Being A Failure<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">I do not like to fail. In fact, it still rankles my soul that I came in second in high jump at the all-city track and field day in 1967. I like to get the gold star and not the silver. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I have failed.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmfjZUF0II0euUhgxQsYLFYdeNQkjk6YbOIGk3LpkfGedzmGsadvZLYDjlCAaR3DwYlb7FtVALExCywhAAdXMngqnowjnXCqoW88d5bdVm8iV-fbYPYwTvU2sXonEcjXjok6FDZ0w6pfg/s1600/IMG_2649.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmfjZUF0II0euUhgxQsYLFYdeNQkjk6YbOIGk3LpkfGedzmGsadvZLYDjlCAaR3DwYlb7FtVALExCywhAAdXMngqnowjnXCqoW88d5bdVm8iV-fbYPYwTvU2sXonEcjXjok6FDZ0w6pfg/s320/IMG_2649.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">These are my failures. Chloe is to the left and Darla is to the right These two are puppy mill mamas who have lived most of their five years in wire cages. I am fostering them for a local rescue so that they can be adopted by families.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">If the head of the rescue were to call today and say that she had found loving families for these two, I would tell her that I had sent them to a luxury dog camp in the Swiss Alps, and that I didn't expect them back until the 31st of June (Thirty days has September, April...). I would sneak them over the border into Canada, traveling north until cell reception was no longer possible. I would send them off to Maryland with my youngest, and let them take on new identities as mascots for McDaniel College.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj35afJZTubIvg3alFW32rz3gj2gLBLQyPfhuXGUqyE3tx25h__JTm_Xp3-UrvzoFedi6x86wxD-fxapx_kuu9EYiaTjQshwVf2Vwu5cZfck98mk9G_bJZeP3xWUxXg7atygaknFLCXDH8/s1600/IMG_2655.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj35afJZTubIvg3alFW32rz3gj2gLBLQyPfhuXGUqyE3tx25h__JTm_Xp3-UrvzoFedi6x86wxD-fxapx_kuu9EYiaTjQshwVf2Vwu5cZfck98mk9G_bJZeP3xWUxXg7atygaknFLCXDH8/s320/IMG_2655.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This face has told me that she is staying right here. She likes the food and the company.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ3R8VH11s2ydozW04BvYFWZtZHjp0LUPr7VfHviX4Oy35VJKpPqLfL_wKtbWI8Hf3O6ReaZX2NhqjhqQJ1wO0291mnwAfhhCcvMQVBYiSQKEAhXgts2uQvu4paaQb-AIhvD3SpvdVuDs/s1600/IMG_2656.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ3R8VH11s2ydozW04BvYFWZtZHjp0LUPr7VfHviX4Oy35VJKpPqLfL_wKtbWI8Hf3O6ReaZX2NhqjhqQJ1wO0291mnwAfhhCcvMQVBYiSQKEAhXgts2uQvu4paaQb-AIhvD3SpvdVuDs/s320/IMG_2656.JPG" width="240" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This one pretends to be sleeping each time I try to bring up the discussion of a possible move. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitj3prBeXwswBjS5kKBGW6JNNJcasgEbQBc96CaloRrGm89fqLPuEpGQFitdUcfqLqDgdtxsjFe9nrb4cl9A9bukEZedi934H6aDP0NCW4wMi0aklSL717_zavJdRrz0frncNWV7oX3aY/s1600/IMG_2625.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitj3prBeXwswBjS5kKBGW6JNNJcasgEbQBc96CaloRrGm89fqLPuEpGQFitdUcfqLqDgdtxsjFe9nrb4cl9A9bukEZedi934H6aDP0NCW4wMi0aklSL717_zavJdRrz0frncNWV7oX3aY/s320/IMG_2625.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Rory, one of our own, says they can stay as long as they keep their paws off the good chew toys. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhymKfFC12-qTygApT4qHYHxlI0m6FxG8CMFvGayurN3NLsyJsT7pPpsyq3wYGf34wUmSvbIWTMF-ckngc87WktU-jX9VYNOiN1CkWisVCmITakoiXnRKIPoNMEnnAD4yidkbAh_Lsh3cU/s1600/IMG_2564.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhymKfFC12-qTygApT4qHYHxlI0m6FxG8CMFvGayurN3NLsyJsT7pPpsyq3wYGf34wUmSvbIWTMF-ckngc87WktU-jX9VYNOiN1CkWisVCmITakoiXnRKIPoNMEnnAD4yidkbAh_Lsh3cU/s320/IMG_2564.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Winnie, also ours, says that if you keep your eyes closed, it's like they aren't even here.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEP15dKLyiKBO46TXDJ3bpEPVX4bRP4Z2gPwXypLdBwY452RhXDLmOCOcpvy5A8rCpVcmHe-iK_VwrIM9GdTV9GJ3A5fG10eLud6DQjz5xDMxb7BtSIZQ5RDp0kLVQUK5A3c4Spbho6_o/s1600/IMG_2541.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEP15dKLyiKBO46TXDJ3bpEPVX4bRP4Z2gPwXypLdBwY452RhXDLmOCOcpvy5A8rCpVcmHe-iK_VwrIM9GdTV9GJ3A5fG10eLud6DQjz5xDMxb7BtSIZQ5RDp0kLVQUK5A3c4Spbho6_o/s320/IMG_2541.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">How much bed space do I really need?</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7SKlVlsR5o-lu2EE0WtCNdAaAS_MtTCJosCZmvuNm8sBAG4fbh60Kiizm3sHNEWSfiRm7JgQVeW-qmkEFz-2oRzNWFKisL7CFvFPINZiVo-k0SKkYQuVzj734MfDONk0cEBMZObdDvY8/s1600/IMG_2503.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7SKlVlsR5o-lu2EE0WtCNdAaAS_MtTCJosCZmvuNm8sBAG4fbh60Kiizm3sHNEWSfiRm7JgQVeW-qmkEFz-2oRzNWFKisL7CFvFPINZiVo-k0SKkYQuVzj734MfDONk0cEBMZObdDvY8/s320/IMG_2503.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">They have even offered to share theirs with me.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8597qLqD9hLBPyYxCjHnPH3BPLBECdCaHdzoek8sGutj3qK8KtdvEpKQYisnuCP0CDDjRhRW2bOk-zXFRdgniasPN11ya32oE0j_tLLh6ix5M_D0isW-mDKfUH4fCrIUJmMccqeVDwR0/s1600/IMG_2493.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8597qLqD9hLBPyYxCjHnPH3BPLBECdCaHdzoek8sGutj3qK8KtdvEpKQYisnuCP0CDDjRhRW2bOk-zXFRdgniasPN11ya32oE0j_tLLh6ix5M_D0isW-mDKfUH4fCrIUJmMccqeVDwR0/s320/IMG_2493.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I guess everyone needs to accept a little failure into their lives.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Prairie Sherry</span>Prairie Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15607315139694984552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921053771391766398.post-30550205967689649082015-05-20T07:05:00.000-05:002015-05-20T07:05:21.262-05:00The Art of Book Purging<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9T6G-IjoQnlkvTFr4obPETOvFARJ_ESQ3yndJbTsjGm78qTr9VnbovwU2DQeQaMTWc2wLqCPBQYlihoS1P9Q5AT8Nq1I0HBo3c7mJXDiePnWCBKwm0d5G9mzCObK3nJFF39WuJl8dV4g/s1600/fond+of+books.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9T6G-IjoQnlkvTFr4obPETOvFARJ_ESQ3yndJbTsjGm78qTr9VnbovwU2DQeQaMTWc2wLqCPBQYlihoS1P9Q5AT8Nq1I0HBo3c7mJXDiePnWCBKwm0d5G9mzCObK3nJFF39WuJl8dV4g/s320/fond+of+books.jpg" width="217" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I was reading Elizabeth Gilbert's Facebook post the other day. (Remember, Prairie Friends, to "friend" Elizabeth on Facebook. Her posts are both entertaining and inspiring.) Elizabeth was posting about a major decluttering binge. She got rid of 95% of her books. (GASP!!! Had Elizabeth forgotten that she was an author and needed to keep up a scholarly image?) She went on to say that she felt much lighter and more creative since getting rid of so many books and so much clutter. Her post caused me to look at the books in my life. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitOBTBSN9wJTG5UyaKLQz3xp9GHhWqvvWGLQ8f8vuno-wEEhMcfZ2lh3WcJ9CPCLCkliNXOxkb-hbVtnXY4BgTkgyfi2b-R4Xqc2VoHzIwZdJp8wD3iaNcnIGKUNaTTBKh4sbV3Zou8Bs/s1600/cartoon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitOBTBSN9wJTG5UyaKLQz3xp9GHhWqvvWGLQ8f8vuno-wEEhMcfZ2lh3WcJ9CPCLCkliNXOxkb-hbVtnXY4BgTkgyfi2b-R4Xqc2VoHzIwZdJp8wD3iaNcnIGKUNaTTBKh4sbV3Zou8Bs/s320/cartoon.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Here is one of my main bookshelves, which is representative of </span><i style="font-size: x-large;">all</i><span style="font-size: large;"> of my bookshelves: </span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Ks8cXjIKk7LK1Z9rv9kUrVCP541h-JFekPqvMiTp9yffsjoVxC5I2cWrg4d035JG0b8CPELw6UTrQ1QLvDR175UTyMuVgzVhSj-BJ5tr6686dlaFFp1xgf1kxhkP_dhIeb8GWSc-Vuk/s1600/book+shelf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Ks8cXjIKk7LK1Z9rv9kUrVCP541h-JFekPqvMiTp9yffsjoVxC5I2cWrg4d035JG0b8CPELw6UTrQ1QLvDR175UTyMuVgzVhSj-BJ5tr6686dlaFFp1xgf1kxhkP_dhIeb8GWSc-Vuk/s320/book+shelf.jpg" width="177" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">This shelf says "Hot Mess" not "Oh my! Eydie is SO smart."</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">As you can see, it is piled with books, disorganized, and not a lovely, calm focal point for my living room. On top of the books I have stacked gift cards, book marks, and receipts that I don't want to enter into my budget notebook. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">I asked myself - Prairie Eydie why are you keeping all of these books? The answer? Ego. I like to be identified as scholarly, smart, and someone who is well read. Hmmm. Do I really need to store books, in a house that is already cluttered with three young children, to prove something to my ego? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As I scanned through the titles, it was apparent that many of the books were books I intended to read at one time. And many of them belonged to Prairie Sherry. Few of the unread books looked like anything I would willingly trade sleep for to read. On the other hand, many of the shelved books were books I adored. But I had no intention to reread the adored books. I just like to periodically read the titles and think, "That was <i>SUCH</i> a good book." (There are so many awesome books out there that I rarely reread fiction. The list of books I do reread is super short: <i> To Kill a Mockingbird</i>, <i>Breakfast at Tiffany's</i>, and <i>The Long Winter</i>.) </span><br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVJiSYDtCQTrgx4r-UZs36J-Opu2medU_EUcSrMcrraGa_t0FrKSUxL8ILVUxrWFYLkngpMzHEssr8TJklqzthldIJmOJXZlG4SrnsrnihRmlFKG21DerG4KNhC16rCKmIpR6MHfc3RNc/s1600/warren.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="187" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVJiSYDtCQTrgx4r-UZs36J-Opu2medU_EUcSrMcrraGa_t0FrKSUxL8ILVUxrWFYLkngpMzHEssr8TJklqzthldIJmOJXZlG4SrnsrnihRmlFKG21DerG4KNhC16rCKmIpR6MHfc3RNc/s400/warren.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I LOVE Warren Zevon and am ecstatic that one of his quotes actually fits into a blog.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So, I began a book purge. This purge included all the vintage Hardy Boys books I was keeping for my sons to read. The boys have shown absolutely no interest in reading these dusty "classics" because Young Adult fiction nowadays (Is <i>nowadays </i>really a word?) is so awesome. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDulUjMVamARKFB9xGBH_FthqT6xjQE_xz12PZnflA2OIPwP9bGr6MClXcrEmRvI6-gKao3FJO3z4v6zdfcPKd5S_JNXJkIL6IAKTQmPgJYoIa-ne8bQnHQfHwOGhQhkifnbuTvDU5LU8/s1600/GoodnightGorilla1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDulUjMVamARKFB9xGBH_FthqT6xjQE_xz12PZnflA2OIPwP9bGr6MClXcrEmRvI6-gKao3FJO3z4v6zdfcPKd5S_JNXJkIL6IAKTQmPgJYoIa-ne8bQnHQfHwOGhQhkifnbuTvDU5LU8/s320/GoodnightGorilla1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I also passed on the board books my five year old has out grown. This was hard to do, because I have so many memories of reading <i>The Lady with the Alligator Purse </i>and <i>Mr. Brown Can Moo</i> to my kids. But. I envisioned other parents reading these great books to their kids, and I passed them on. (Confession. I kept <i>Goodnight Gorilla</i>. Somethings are just sacred.)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">Once again, I was left with all the books I would reread if there weren't so many other books I want to read for the first time. So. I decided to choose 5 of these books and send them to people who I thought would enjoy reading them. Former book club friends came to mind. I was okay passing the books on, knowing they will continue to be read, and not just clutter up shelves in my house.</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM1qqrca8YJFnhS21Jy1a2Anee1f-eeINMOjMtAzU3_PZZLihr6rAlLP74m8z6KOrUgwpBIsnLp1byy_sZwTBdd-QQoHeFQphXfFzfg-vtNkkx2DF_J1JLU_MW2YANPqC-Nx0aDR1XQKE/s1600/Hermione.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM1qqrca8YJFnhS21Jy1a2Anee1f-eeINMOjMtAzU3_PZZLihr6rAlLP74m8z6KOrUgwpBIsnLp1byy_sZwTBdd-QQoHeFQphXfFzfg-vtNkkx2DF_J1JLU_MW2YANPqC-Nx0aDR1XQKE/s320/Hermione.jpg" width="286" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Always a good idea. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I purged well over 70 books! (10 of them Hardy Boy books - but still a valiant effort.) I am exhausted, so now it is your turn.</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-lUnUep1PWpYMLxTNdfAqeMAjvQnTnTN3Uv4p9sBzw0uwMt0nD4D-5rLa7xpPpJ3hjOK3hhtg2dOSvBNlCXvki-4O16fPbTsGUBudh-L_83WvBwLgiLRJAqwTcHrtQHzI2x0jjaQ6_7k/s1600/clean+bookshelf.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-lUnUep1PWpYMLxTNdfAqeMAjvQnTnTN3Uv4p9sBzw0uwMt0nD4D-5rLa7xpPpJ3hjOK3hhtg2dOSvBNlCXvki-4O16fPbTsGUBudh-L_83WvBwLgiLRJAqwTcHrtQHzI2x0jjaQ6_7k/s320/clean+bookshelf.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Tah dah!!! Here is my bookshelf "post purge."</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Prairie Eydie</span><br />
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Prairie Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15607315139694984552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921053771391766398.post-87961121221674442452015-05-18T06:12:00.000-05:002015-05-18T07:18:04.754-05:00The Prairie Grlz: Favorite Things for Spring 2015<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Take a seat. The Priaire Grlz are enjoying a Sunday morning together, and we would love to have you join us. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Conversation topic: Our latest favorite things.</i></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY26IEWgyM4KNxcGcSbMdDnaA1oB0VDFZmIwvEcXk1TCmQK66nkfI4r2cbvrlmfC1jE0bxbYkB9KLjq_IeRyFDymNIIDoIT1GpZxg9VND1tQlEcriE0cgdxMhJEm1Qg-07ZRrczReXn_g/s1600/IMG_2641.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY26IEWgyM4KNxcGcSbMdDnaA1oB0VDFZmIwvEcXk1TCmQK66nkfI4r2cbvrlmfC1jE0bxbYkB9KLjq_IeRyFDymNIIDoIT1GpZxg9VND1tQlEcriE0cgdxMhJEm1Qg-07ZRrczReXn_g/s320/IMG_2641.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">A nice crisp white will go nicely with these. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Prairie Eydie:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I went to the farmers' market yesterday, and it is asparagus season! I took two laps through the stalls before settling on two bunches of perfection. Tonight I am going to put them on the grill drizzled with garlicky olive oil and salt and pepper. Yum! You don't really need much more than that, but a crusty loaf of bread and a little salmon filet would be nice additions. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdqSMS0HCcgmAgI99l9AQEzw3j4FSfixnrLFYKGxdIBNC7Zg9uA9D9RQu6THX8QjMWHYepfAvsiDg7DNOqsMLAkWZOiHrYhQmXQ4Y7s4eSvDQxnv_qhtWC1N0siU504TKwp9NSSCW0KJM/s1600/IMG_2635.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdqSMS0HCcgmAgI99l9AQEzw3j4FSfixnrLFYKGxdIBNC7Zg9uA9D9RQu6THX8QjMWHYepfAvsiDg7DNOqsMLAkWZOiHrYhQmXQ4Y7s4eSvDQxnv_qhtWC1N0siU504TKwp9NSSCW0KJM/s320/IMG_2635.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">A simple pleasure.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Prairie Sherry:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Canning jars are not just for canning anymore. As the empties began piling up in my basement this winter, the last of my drinking glasses hit the tile floor. The jars became our glasses (they look very shabby chic) and then storage containers. I just found these nifty screw-on tops in both wide and small mouth sizes. Prairie Eydie thinks that they will be brilliant for saving those glasses of milk or juice that don't quite get finished by the Prairie Kidlettes. Best yet, those canning jars are now getting year-round use.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMv9EVhuT64E1sO6rVodvM9DRwNCIaEdG7cWDsJIBO9RRn9iOJfUF9-mBb6cMHykONoO4iooBJqyBAFzQPAX2OJDwk1uBsUNIEx8suCydt-3ziQCXHcS2UuotIAr9pQUkKG4wQl8Duq1c/s1600/FullSizeRender+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMv9EVhuT64E1sO6rVodvM9DRwNCIaEdG7cWDsJIBO9RRn9iOJfUF9-mBb6cMHykONoO4iooBJqyBAFzQPAX2OJDwk1uBsUNIEx8suCydt-3ziQCXHcS2UuotIAr9pQUkKG4wQl8Duq1c/s320/FullSizeRender+(2).jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">You could probably use it as a sandwich<br />spread as well.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Prairie Eydie:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Good Earth, a Wisconsin-based company, is FABULOUS! I love their lotions and candles. Their products are scented with lavender and actually smells like lavender, not chemical-laden room freshener (The lavender sniff test is my go-to for any floral scented product--lavender must smell like real lavender). </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">You can get their products online (<a href="http://www.goodearthsoap.com/" target="_blank">www.goodearthsoap.com</a>) or on Willy Street in Madison at The Madison Greenhouse Store (<a href="http://www.madisongreenhousestore.com/" target="_blank">www.madisongreenhousestore.com</a>). Which, by the way, is a great place for all sorts of nifty gifts. Need a bee house, anyone?</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-4xDoW466jr2sd4MUwHoWlvhJzgJuTNiN1Eb1ORE3cMyBzfCZZaEZLTF-1-C2Xthxz9cYnmWYEkDvINiiMIgeMlwDulhROb6eOaj5dGZcwJ5sryM1BIgjstamV_TZCeSzHsF7GqxYL8w/s1600/IMG_2639.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-4xDoW466jr2sd4MUwHoWlvhJzgJuTNiN1Eb1ORE3cMyBzfCZZaEZLTF-1-C2Xthxz9cYnmWYEkDvINiiMIgeMlwDulhROb6eOaj5dGZcwJ5sryM1BIgjstamV_TZCeSzHsF7GqxYL8w/s320/IMG_2639.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Choices, choices, choices...</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Prairie Sherry:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Buying eye glasses on the internet! My last pair of progressively stronger progressive bifocals cost $400 at one of the many optical departments at the big box stores. The internet has opened a whole new option. For $69 (with on-line coupon), I have a pair of progressive bifocals with funky, fun frames. In fact, I now have three pair!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">When you get your vision checked, ask for your prescription and be sure the doctor includes the pupillary distance (PD). There are many websites to choose from. You just plug in your prescription and order away. I used my existing frames to check on appropriate size, bow length, etc. Those that I have purchased look great and the prescription is perfect, in fact, a bit better than my $400 pair. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiXdVApAvwjbTPkESQtwy6Q0MfZJ2lmiKZImr5xTvsL3r-d7JZgShKneKvyNMVrWLLVpg-8m052lbf-KE2rRJB-nOV8ifEkE551W6lXlKjpw_5wcSMYmLs6FGzzUMVS9ob_SsMTC8XsyM/s1600/FullSizeRender+(3).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiXdVApAvwjbTPkESQtwy6Q0MfZJ2lmiKZImr5xTvsL3r-d7JZgShKneKvyNMVrWLLVpg-8m052lbf-KE2rRJB-nOV8ifEkE551W6lXlKjpw_5wcSMYmLs6FGzzUMVS9ob_SsMTC8XsyM/s320/FullSizeRender+(3).jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The label is deceiving.<br />Vacuum the carpet, not the dog.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Prairie Eydie:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Is there anything less glorious than having to buy a vacuum? Mine of 20 years died last week. I replaced it with a Hoover "Pet" Wind (sounds like the kitty got into some beans) after consulting with Prairie Pa and Consumer Reports. I started vacuuming my bedroom, and the dirt cup immediately (and embarrassingly) filled with dust, dirt, and cat hair. Ewwwwwwwwww! Actually, now I think that my vacuum stopped working 8 years ago.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I still don't like vacuuming, but my feet no longer make crunching noises as I walk from my bed to the bathroom door. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_6cQ1IYssOFaRgy5ASn8t39rlGYkIwk-kjCraQAPxxYa_siYgHD5Uzjos933ZkFYb7eZvDXXyZiwoaqCvu2OQ9BAMgFaMxIOd_qPQ5p9F-OPzWLvBXv1VqAY9YzAYhmMWzgcPCSiXKno/s1600/IMG_2638.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_6cQ1IYssOFaRgy5ASn8t39rlGYkIwk-kjCraQAPxxYa_siYgHD5Uzjos933ZkFYb7eZvDXXyZiwoaqCvu2OQ9BAMgFaMxIOd_qPQ5p9F-OPzWLvBXv1VqAY9YzAYhmMWzgcPCSiXKno/s320/IMG_2638.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Put on your sunglasses. Prairie Sherry<br />is going to smile.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Prairie Sherry:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Thanks to the miracles of modern dentistry and orthodontics, I have a pretty good set of choppers for someone in her late 50's. Alas, the ravages of red wine and coffee have left their mark. I've purchased those whitening strips that go for the cost of a week-end vacation in Door County, and while the results are very apparent, they don't last long. Soon, you are back at the store for your strip fix. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">About a year ago, I came across a homemade whitening mixture. I figured that it would work about as well as soda and vinegar on the bathtub drain filled with teenager waist length hair and conditioner--nada, nothing, nil. I gave it a try anyway, AND IT WORKS!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Mix a little baking soda into a small cup or dish. Add a splash of hydrogen peroxide and a dab of toothpaste. Brush away! It should feel a little gritty. Do this two times a week, and your pearly whites will be truly white. And Prairie Eydie, this does not replace flossing! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Our favorite things may not have the pizazz and flash of Oprah's, but last time we checked, our bank accounts didn't look like hers either. These are just a few things that have struck us as share-worthy. Enjoy! </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Pour yourself a second cup of coffee and page through some of our earlier posts. There are 165 in all! If you feel so inclined, share our blog with friends. We love new Prairie Readers! And please leave us comments. We would like to know how far our posts travel.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Prairie Eydie and Prairie Sherry</i></span>Prairie Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15607315139694984552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921053771391766398.post-78856572397276953472015-05-13T07:21:00.000-05:002015-05-13T07:21:43.661-05:00Prairie Eydie (Finally) Arrives At Downton Abbey<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKRRBtJDL8bUb9_MF0Z38eQFYAFvsEvcUj2J8nfMP_9xQ-Cuu9mkDHdwVVh-909IPOqxoW1Lqkdfrk31hhBied_CUuzcm1wzzmdZDqtI2CEfyfJS7RgwL93hUf3rrhaAeOxW33WTF8lBM/s1600/matthew.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKRRBtJDL8bUb9_MF0Z38eQFYAFvsEvcUj2J8nfMP_9xQ-Cuu9mkDHdwVVh-909IPOqxoW1Lqkdfrk31hhBied_CUuzcm1wzzmdZDqtI2CEfyfJS7RgwL93hUf3rrhaAeOxW33WTF8lBM/s400/matthew.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mathew: Pre-medical miracle. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I have arrived late to the Downton Abbey craze. I assumed Downton Abbey would be stuffy like previous Masterpiece Theaters. (Dusty productions where the climax involved a broken tea cup. Gasp.) Was I ever wrong! Downton Abbey is a soap opera for "classy" people. I recognize many plot lines in Downton from my 25 years of watching General Hospital. Groom, paralyzed by war, suddenly able to walk down the aisle to his sobbing bride, anyone? Yes, please! Bride jilted at alter because groom considers himself inferior? Bring it on!</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidvUPSKlgq62vmMFJqey8bpwQH8KvrFNVzkq-3LK79PfPvadx0H3TP3gbVaciBKuPqsHILPHMjQ3vtMU3aIeXtWiCwTftNVgwKtW6hyphenhyphenVoIgjenZLyGrtoFVEf6EkD7orXMS4hUXv-cCc4/s1600/jail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidvUPSKlgq62vmMFJqey8bpwQH8KvrFNVzkq-3LK79PfPvadx0H3TP3gbVaciBKuPqsHILPHMjQ3vtMU3aIeXtWiCwTftNVgwKtW6hyphenhyphenVoIgjenZLyGrtoFVEf6EkD7orXMS4hUXv-cCc4/s400/jail.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">You need to break me outta here, Sonny! Just like Anna will bust Mr. Bates outta the cooler in Season 3 of Downton Abbey. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Downton Abbey has amnesia, facial disfigurement, inter-cousin marriages, paralysis, and dead relative resurrections. I am only in the beginning of Season 3, but already I have learned SO much from Downton Abbey.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Things I have learned from Downton Abbey THUS far:</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9hXBvhT9aW1r54dHZPKg6mhAS1ytI8d121qwK8eS_6ynSjC8Jlmi2eXxVGN01sXcT75lKouiaTBRfNpjQCwmytkQsJdK6kBWq2Yx252wPTnVUCDFPeI6wy_Q2nNPXETFTdRB1D9ujZGE/s1600/crawley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9hXBvhT9aW1r54dHZPKg6mhAS1ytI8d121qwK8eS_6ynSjC8Jlmi2eXxVGN01sXcT75lKouiaTBRfNpjQCwmytkQsJdK6kBWq2Yx252wPTnVUCDFPeI6wy_Q2nNPXETFTdRB1D9ujZGE/s1600/crawley.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">You may want to be useful at a garden show.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Be useful.</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Lady Edith and Lady Sybil shone during World War 1. Lady Sybil wrapped her gorgeous locks in a dish towel and became a nurse after a day or two of training with Lady Crowley. Lady Edith spent her days finding books for convalescing officers. (I also love recommending books. Counting by 7s, by Holly Sloan is a fabulous Young Adult book that I recently finished. Truthfully, any age would love this book.) Lady Crowley has a sickening need to be useful and ran off to work with war orphans - not know her son was paralyzed. When she tired of orphans she started "helping" prostitutes who didn't want her help. (You don't need to take it to Lady Crowley's extreme. Just help out when and where you can.) </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQaQprY9a8A8dszeS29s25ptlc5aOZPK7jWaATuF7b4-8sw1oOldiGtSwCsfshn1TfI7rx_nWOwNdXG3UeDgU-ObazDI19P25k-m3P4FYkb5c8__v0zF1P17v-pEO1fS0IC7mX7sNcNeQ/s1600/downton+costumes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQaQprY9a8A8dszeS29s25ptlc5aOZPK7jWaATuF7b4-8sw1oOldiGtSwCsfshn1TfI7rx_nWOwNdXG3UeDgU-ObazDI19P25k-m3P4FYkb5c8__v0zF1P17v-pEO1fS0IC7mX7sNcNeQ/s400/downton+costumes.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Dress for the Occasion.</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">How I LOVE the costumes on Downton Abbey!</span><br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">the long gloves</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">the bejeweled necklines.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">the striped linen</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">the mountains of fur</span></li>
</ul>
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<span style="font-size: large;">My grandmother always said if you didn't have an occasion to dress up, you needed to make one. At 99 years old and 10 months, my grandmother still looks fabulous and is still dressing for the occasion of luncheon. I love how people at Downton "dress" for luncheon and dinner. (Who is in charge of the laundry at Downton?)</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">A "zinger" delivered to Lady Edith from the Dowager Countess.</span></td></tr>
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<b style="font-size: x-large;">Purse your lips when you are at a loss for words.</b><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Maggie Smith as the Dowager Countess, (For those of you wondering, a Dowager is a widow who holds a title or property.) often purses her lips before or after delivering "a zinger." I find the "lip purse" gives you either time to think of a "zinger" or make sure the "zinger" has had its intended effect. The "lip purse" can also be used solo as it gets displeasure communicated without saying a word. Lately I have found the "lip purse" to be extremely effective when reviewing my son's sloppy, slapdash math homework. Works like a charm.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR2PJaIadvpZ7hEHKC0R_qwpqBVWU3s-HUlF4MyypDleLnTY42uuPADVSd9EplAxUPN10edKXZgW6KROVlIDLvxk77OmUb7e1fbPOikV5G7sQxUxEfhydCAkBxTub4mUpaQYj-lJ1-xeg/s1600/mary.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR2PJaIadvpZ7hEHKC0R_qwpqBVWU3s-HUlF4MyypDleLnTY42uuPADVSd9EplAxUPN10edKXZgW6KROVlIDLvxk77OmUb7e1fbPOikV5G7sQxUxEfhydCAkBxTub4mUpaQYj-lJ1-xeg/s1600/mary.gif" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Save your energy and don't react with emotion.</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We use so much emotional energy smiling, crying, ranting, tearing up, etc. Let us follow Lady Mary's example and adapt a deadpan expression in all situations. She was poker faced when Lady Sybil died of eclampsia. Not a wrinkle graced her porcelain face when the Turkish diplomat, Kemal Pamuk, died in her bed.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.2000007629395px;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: large;">Hmmmm. Maybe she did react a bit when she found out Lord Grantham had lost Cora's fortune in a bad investment. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Maybe Dowager Countess says it best (once again!):</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirRYTLzmDG1DIElr4iHBe1TlsEc5eqjS8xmlfVxwVAZL8LRnmDZYI8MRqvfmHAMefBws4InjwftUKS2YyERzOlcJBtOhgJUqKHR5r-GY9fkiPfYDADrgL6lgMcozCqMH3DiLSmsW0ygKE/s1600/excite.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirRYTLzmDG1DIElr4iHBe1TlsEc5eqjS8xmlfVxwVAZL8LRnmDZYI8MRqvfmHAMefBws4InjwftUKS2YyERzOlcJBtOhgJUqKHR5r-GY9fkiPfYDADrgL6lgMcozCqMH3DiLSmsW0ygKE/s320/excite.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I look forward to learning more from the Downton Abbey crew. Perhaps next time I will focus on what I have learned from the servants of Downton. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Prairie Eydie</span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Prairie Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15607315139694984552noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921053771391766398.post-67018372163286870762015-05-10T22:41:00.000-05:002015-05-11T10:39:13.623-05:00The Art of Listening to Your Mother<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJlR68QGMGYQIrj4iJ7Xm8eFl12ziGldf_cKaCK_J8W1MUcQ5ZK3oJ2VauQDLao8D-yn8JDCLyhdutS93VGWmyaLYtqflLbBTpuccBegPIMm4uawyG2XExWP6CI3Qs2oBg33mMwUkwTOY/s1600/IMG_2611.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJlR68QGMGYQIrj4iJ7Xm8eFl12ziGldf_cKaCK_J8W1MUcQ5ZK3oJ2VauQDLao8D-yn8JDCLyhdutS93VGWmyaLYtqflLbBTpuccBegPIMm4uawyG2XExWP6CI3Qs2oBg33mMwUkwTOY/s320/IMG_2611.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Harriet Strange Puttmann at 15 in 1939.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I posted this photo of my mother on my Facebook page this week-end in honor of Mother's Day. She was just 15 when this was taken, and although it is just one single picture, it gives a glimpse into her personality. First to be noted is that she has her arm around one of the many dogs who graced her life. My mother talked to them, doted on them, and loved them. And any dog she loved, loved her back with the fierce loyalty that dogs save for those people who understand them the most. The face in the photo also shows someone who was a dreamer and a bit unsure of herself. Mom always retained the ability to think beyond her reality and always fought those insecurities that might hold her back. She encouraged the same in her children. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This photo was also taken just before my mother contracted polio. I wish I had asked her more about her illness. She mentioned it little, although it affected her until the end of her life and may have contributed to her death from aspiration pneumonia. Her lungs and left side received the most damage, and while most never knew, she worked hard to conceal the constricted throat that caused her to choke easily and the arm and leg that were less strong and agile. Mom spent time in an iron lung, but she fought the machine and proved herself able to breath on her own. When the Salk Vaccine became available, she made sure my siblings and I were among the first in line to receive the inoculation.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My mother taught me many things, but as I leaf through old photos, a few stand out on this Mother's Day evening.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaLYujOWEUfaFlDc1wWxEcwMyGu69l20w6Qdjja1V3tpn-NPSBV3k76SlFzoaG0w-xiuPkaFIDmSIa6v7uYO7ew7mFrHWeccNalaQl2UqQlXhDXRBDBNraxzd7IAfCBC8aLxPH_38XS9s/s1600/IMG_2612.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaLYujOWEUfaFlDc1wWxEcwMyGu69l20w6Qdjja1V3tpn-NPSBV3k76SlFzoaG0w-xiuPkaFIDmSIa6v7uYO7ew7mFrHWeccNalaQl2UqQlXhDXRBDBNraxzd7IAfCBC8aLxPH_38XS9s/s320/IMG_2612.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mom and Maia, 1997.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Read! Read to yourself, your friend, your child, your significant other... Mom always had a book that she was reading and another that she was sharing.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTQttu61iv5Jimn6MnsD3WtEaqPsUhjdR5rVifPpk5_XW6k49rOorhMMSi8AZ9_wiyYNzJM5MAD6HEHkvUYh1PBjUISIUfvOr-rJ6kAgahDoHCBP514lD2wClimb3eUo0-aDuVeh68AxU/s1600/IMG_2614.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTQttu61iv5Jimn6MnsD3WtEaqPsUhjdR5rVifPpk5_XW6k49rOorhMMSi8AZ9_wiyYNzJM5MAD6HEHkvUYh1PBjUISIUfvOr-rJ6kAgahDoHCBP514lD2wClimb3eUo0-aDuVeh68AxU/s320/IMG_2614.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Who knows when. I have so many of these photos.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Don't be afraid to have fun. Mom was gracious and almost-always a lady, but she knew how to have fun. She loved to laugh, and she never took herself too seriously.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs26n4g-J86ilnD2xOjEE0uBqAdrK44vGyWULzsWasmFjeINz7Kx0eY0nZfaN_4DMG-4Nebf3Vdjm08UkycQwiCL6wTCBFhjOwUs_SNfe3MHh1pyqKw_mKjjbsBIkuWtR5YkIwMyL3iTw/s1600/IMG_2615.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs26n4g-J86ilnD2xOjEE0uBqAdrK44vGyWULzsWasmFjeINz7Kx0eY0nZfaN_4DMG-4Nebf3Vdjm08UkycQwiCL6wTCBFhjOwUs_SNfe3MHh1pyqKw_mKjjbsBIkuWtR5YkIwMyL3iTw/s320/IMG_2615.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Crystal Lake, Sayner, Wisconsin, 1970's.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">You must find a lake. Mom loved to camp because it brought her to the edges of lakes all across the United States. She was a swimmer, and she would keep track of how many times she plunged in in a single day. A pool was never equal to a lake.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvA96N5zbwqIkvoxnKtMicLr-muk0TuhpEwSDoakJfKdMvf1Ml_eMV2XjXlcoTMURlD0h56-CYd34OrhnkPIhu_I4AaATcx3Vyx-tPOKf6tEQyMEQ_j7BuneG7Vj79qPZb34_D7a8ZSUw/s1600/IMG_2617.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvA96N5zbwqIkvoxnKtMicLr-muk0TuhpEwSDoakJfKdMvf1Ml_eMV2XjXlcoTMURlD0h56-CYd34OrhnkPIhu_I4AaATcx3Vyx-tPOKf6tEQyMEQ_j7BuneG7Vj79qPZb34_D7a8ZSUw/s320/IMG_2617.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">My first birthday with Carla, 1991.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Birthdays are a BIG DEAL! No one celebrated a birthday like Mom. You didn't have to make your bed, you received the exact meal you ordered (fried chicken, baby peas, and mashed potatoes with cream gravy, thank you...), and always a homemade birthday cake. That meant made from scratch with real cake flour... </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm3u5LTiSoFBb3hc2Qb2OTwtGk2Zf30tHfMbzAHfK7Q3uvgMFcwM3d4WakCN5WYkiMiYHn_ln7TD9ANzYftK60UqEo4RwDgKnLghB23bl3c711Yjxc9bb_Do20nxkKJmlXG0U30Vc0d4s/s1600/IMG_2618.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm3u5LTiSoFBb3hc2Qb2OTwtGk2Zf30tHfMbzAHfK7Q3uvgMFcwM3d4WakCN5WYkiMiYHn_ln7TD9ANzYftK60UqEo4RwDgKnLghB23bl3c711Yjxc9bb_Do20nxkKJmlXG0U30Vc0d4s/s320/IMG_2618.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Part of Joli's gift to me today, Mother's Day 2015.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">A little bit of really good chocolate is a whole lot better than a mess of bad chocolate. Mom was the one who taught me to go into to a high end chocolate shop and buy one or two pieces of the best and really savor. In all honesty, I must also add that my mom taught me that if you really need</span><span style="font-size: large;">ed a chocolate fix, a spoon and a can of Hershey's fudge sauce might get you through.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-aAI-lLwwygtrrWWXzlcZsY9kfkX34W_S3r7c5wZMdCKOlU3e66D4qS6MrHQYKJfcLrUvNcrJ0HkKReUX5K7-V_5GCI8R-HpE4Q70EkQrhcXS8HSiOFUIeGX52RcZijBzdFOgRpY3xMY/s1600/IMG_2619.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-aAI-lLwwygtrrWWXzlcZsY9kfkX34W_S3r7c5wZMdCKOlU3e66D4qS6MrHQYKJfcLrUvNcrJ0HkKReUX5K7-V_5GCI8R-HpE4Q70EkQrhcXS8HSiOFUIeGX52RcZijBzdFOgRpY3xMY/s320/IMG_2619.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mom and Dad . Enough said.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Hold tight to the good times and the memories they bring, and they will see you through the bad. I remember Mom telling me this after a particularly tough year in our family. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">There are so many others, but the hour is late, and I am ready to crawl in bed with my latest semi-trashy novel (Mom would have approved) and bar of fair trade, organic, 60% cacao chocolate. (Thanks, Jo!). </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYo9mrNT-DlofJWv2mIWOop1xFh0vmjv1TDdf0O6tzX9crCTaaz8O1ryzXyiENG1-wiHVw3QOQJL3GFgHg0XPb2fyG4-imMnpZKRTLzs8B9lZRAL4AIo54KK7RLcCvey6HcpiJScqqesI/s1600/IMG_2622.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYo9mrNT-DlofJWv2mIWOop1xFh0vmjv1TDdf0O6tzX9crCTaaz8O1ryzXyiENG1-wiHVw3QOQJL3GFgHg0XPb2fyG4-imMnpZKRTLzs8B9lZRAL4AIo54KK7RLcCvey6HcpiJScqqesI/s320/IMG_2622.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mom and Biscuit.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This picture brings the post full-circle. Mom and her last dog. Thank you. Thank you for being that part of my life that helped make me who I am today. I didn't mention how you taught me the joys of a good scotch--splash of water and no ice. I will save that for another post.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Love always,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Prairie Sherry</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Prairie Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15607315139694984552noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921053771391766398.post-12042771180445127312015-05-08T07:48:00.002-05:002015-05-08T07:48:49.767-05:00Prairie Pa and The Art of Gardening Advice<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: start;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: large;">Now that the weather is warming and spring is finally here, it is time for some gardening advice from our very own guest blogger, Prairie Pa. (And you all know how Prairie Pa loves to give advice.)</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi57-6p-TS6nilpQvNHfDz7k3UeXwYRbhlo36xjGhvLzTrrAbin_nIOygzovsWfd8uYpTx5yY4ZNsxcEhab-jpssrC3tzotCXYf1A3qNSPebShwZEwQQgX5X2pqHLQqlLsiZw9K0BfiiaY/s1600/home+depot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi57-6p-TS6nilpQvNHfDz7k3UeXwYRbhlo36xjGhvLzTrrAbin_nIOygzovsWfd8uYpTx5yY4ZNsxcEhab-jpssrC3tzotCXYf1A3qNSPebShwZEwQQgX5X2pqHLQqlLsiZw9K0BfiiaY/s1600/home+depot.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">10 Things Big Box Gardening Center Employees Will<span style="color: #cc0000;"> NOT</span> Tell You.</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">1. Don’t bother to ask me any questions because I don’t know
anything. I only make $8.50 an hour and my last job was at a car wash. </span><o:p></o:p><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb3XkLHYkCuVe6i5ebwvF-Cd-JSeZkfewJROFeCMuLxzhdTvYA3TrSyX5EgPJoKO6BiyW1o1iCHWkGkeU-5DOVoGMV51i39xX4iRADe1AlFI91XT27RI33hhN1RE145zGZiOnkILA-AxE/s1600/yelling+employee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb3XkLHYkCuVe6i5ebwvF-Cd-JSeZkfewJROFeCMuLxzhdTvYA3TrSyX5EgPJoKO6BiyW1o1iCHWkGkeU-5DOVoGMV51i39xX4iRADe1AlFI91XT27RI33hhN1RE145zGZiOnkILA-AxE/s1600/yelling+employee.jpg" width="215" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">This joker wants to know if begonias will thrive in partial sun. What a rube!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">2. If you are foolish enough to ask me a question, I will
make something up to save face and do it in a positive and condescending
manner.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">3. Our hanging baskets will never look any better than they
do now. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">4. Any perennials and shrubs you purchase after July 4<sup>th</sup>
will not survive the winter. </span><o:p></o:p><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsauz9xeCxNDPUENMmaxz3mhFKsVa2JM5Y-Y9cJ7jHZ5YyYEWvU114E2z5u3YO8VPS27Kmz41nTZL3Xn8g8ID13SSvzYWW5SD8gUksfrxRH6wPIMY6uh-TAEfz8oYUUiYKEfVoOML-HlU/s1600/homedepot_PS-0163.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsauz9xeCxNDPUENMmaxz3mhFKsVa2JM5Y-Y9cJ7jHZ5YyYEWvU114E2z5u3YO8VPS27Kmz41nTZL3Xn8g8ID13SSvzYWW5SD8gUksfrxRH6wPIMY6uh-TAEfz8oYUUiYKEfVoOML-HlU/s1600/homedepot_PS-0163.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #111111; line-height: 32.4000015258789px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">And what I believe unites the people of this nation, regardless of race or region or party, young or old, rich or poor, is the simple, profound belief in gardening for all – the notion that if you regularly water, use organic soil, and periodically fertilize, you can get ahead.</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">5. I don’t know how to get the blue hydrangeas to bloom
either.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">6. No matter how cheap the annuals are on our sales rack, do
not buy them. If they look shabby now, just wait until you get them home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">7. Our potting soil is greatly overpriced. Buy compost instead. If you do the numbers,
our potting soil cost $5.25 a cubic foot and compost is usually about $1.25 a
cubic foot. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUgT9CQqiSsEcko-TQHomvV89W7tQqwwuanuD0kwihC_YNFsucw5DByhBMvGJ9KuAA7fQUtk4DrWzcQMms_OAG6XUbMf56sei-F2M4c5cjk2nPUXE9klWbRNg4XsQgfu_vpjM4uSE8J1c/s1600/Jesus_Home_Depot_by_Darwin_Lawlers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUgT9CQqiSsEcko-TQHomvV89W7tQqwwuanuD0kwihC_YNFsucw5DByhBMvGJ9KuAA7fQUtk4DrWzcQMms_OAG6XUbMf56sei-F2M4c5cjk2nPUXE9klWbRNg4XsQgfu_vpjM4uSE8J1c/s1600/Jesus_Home_Depot_by_Darwin_Lawlers.jpg" width="253" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Thou shalt place clearly labeled perennials with perennials and annuals with annuals. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">8. Many of our perennials are really annuals. We place these
annuals with the perennials and count on people not checking the temperature
rating on the information tag.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">9. You can grow most of our annuals and veggies yourself
with seeds and a couple of grow lamps. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4ETMMXreie_7Ag7AbvCn7NdgqwARffwVADCeFpWRidpwX4Rb_kN2iq75EjHZj5vVZPJoEafCOign6ZCTNUd8BThWF3qIvVml9WWyAnO6WKGbJayNDtBBsGuPUd4fkvVFK_oxqFKxOWRs/s1600/cartoon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4ETMMXreie_7Ag7AbvCn7NdgqwARffwVADCeFpWRidpwX4Rb_kN2iq75EjHZj5vVZPJoEafCOign6ZCTNUd8BThWF3qIvVml9WWyAnO6WKGbJayNDtBBsGuPUd4fkvVFK_oxqFKxOWRs/s1600/cartoon.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">10. Most of the people who buy our plants lose interest and
let the weeds take over by July because it is dirty, hard work. If you are not
inspired to a spiritual level by the sight of a bed of well cared for
flowers—forget the whole thing and fill your flowerbeds with colored stones. </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZJ4jynMsQxumCR5vfB03z2nyHMzlkksttueLbm0QxjBVNYyQ81RuwRTHgFyy85V8eySPQVFSKhXs8_BGn4TAXC91PkTzqxZifWX6TsYwOVUMkMuW077uAbILpuBA2QfHTmT3wghrsfZw/s1600/dad+at+garden+center.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZJ4jynMsQxumCR5vfB03z2nyHMzlkksttueLbm0QxjBVNYyQ81RuwRTHgFyy85V8eySPQVFSKhXs8_BGn4TAXC91PkTzqxZifWX6TsYwOVUMkMuW077uAbILpuBA2QfHTmT3wghrsfZw/s1600/dad+at+garden+center.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Shop the "Prairie Pa Way" - at your local garden centers.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Prairie “The Rocket” Pa</span></div>
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Prairie Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15607315139694984552noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921053771391766398.post-18530741580098822092015-05-06T07:41:00.000-05:002015-05-06T07:41:22.490-05:00A Jar Full of Happiness<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-hqbVSG5vTOWCcovkRYYBEPKRirSV-lKRLQ5Yc0EYw-SoZKZyOy9JdwC0YdlJo4svILXLWxmDX2BoPX6scMhpl3RJchCY01DxQtvpCwn-CPbgZqFatnxgRwA54mIk-3qRQme2Zq8KL7o/s1600/Happiness+Jar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-hqbVSG5vTOWCcovkRYYBEPKRirSV-lKRLQ5Yc0EYw-SoZKZyOy9JdwC0YdlJo4svILXLWxmDX2BoPX6scMhpl3RJchCY01DxQtvpCwn-CPbgZqFatnxgRwA54mIk-3qRQme2Zq8KL7o/s1600/Happiness+Jar.jpg" height="320" width="229" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Prairie Eydie's FREE Happiness Jar is filling up!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Enjoy the little things, for one day you will look back and realize they were the big things. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Robert Brault</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLuft5MsM2Hd_fgbpESOdYq7YgEZIlRlZiqTZMjq3Ujws5JryR896epCO01Kz_CxSI9sxoYR99saLmlywGacCPXe2SLO8n32nxNA0_oAkSp_JdUHDCz1RXb4Oe5qxYVfnf3Jy5F1eFAoI/s1600/The-Signature-of-All-Things.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLuft5MsM2Hd_fgbpESOdYq7YgEZIlRlZiqTZMjq3Ujws5JryR896epCO01Kz_CxSI9sxoYR99saLmlywGacCPXe2SLO8n32nxNA0_oAkSp_JdUHDCz1RXb4Oe5qxYVfnf3Jy5F1eFAoI/s1600/The-Signature-of-All-Things.jpg" height="320" width="221" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">You will LOVE Alma! A great female protagonist. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I have joined the "Happiness Jar Project." I read about it on Elizabeth Gilbert's Facebook page. (Please don't hold the lengthy, self-indulgent <i>Eat, Pray, Love</i> against Elizabeth. She never meant for that book to be a road map for women who were sick of their lives. Elizabeth has recently published this amazing book called <i>The Signature of All Things</i> which will soon be a Masterpiece Theater series. I suggest all you creative souls "friend" her on Facebook. She is an advocate for getting creative work done! Her new book, <i>Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear</i>, will be out September 22. I will be buying it in hard cover.)</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnCXROHcO49tCc7OLg-GCjJMUKZJX8hP85wl04Ng2-4Uu5fWpjLW8SNl1Vc32phe73Bj-KM7h9Xss64LZoGbXAnDMJl_nB6XLn2Ab4MCjj38AYtm2SdjyA6Chg1r08-rgvHcmTBL-n2Kc/s1600/Elizabeth+gilbert.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnCXROHcO49tCc7OLg-GCjJMUKZJX8hP85wl04Ng2-4Uu5fWpjLW8SNl1Vc32phe73Bj-KM7h9Xss64LZoGbXAnDMJl_nB6XLn2Ab4MCjj38AYtm2SdjyA6Chg1r08-rgvHcmTBL-n2Kc/s1600/Elizabeth+gilbert.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Elizabeth Gilbert and her happiness jar. Drat. Now I wish I had a bigger jar!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Who can't use some extra happiness? Here is what you do to create your own Jar O' Happiness:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;">STEP 1:</span> Find a big jar. The very day I decided to start the "Happiness Jar Project" I saw a large Mason jar on my friend's table. I asked him if I could have it and he said "Yes"! (Sounds like <i>Grace </i>people. You may want to revisit my archived blog: Prairie Grlz Find Grace At Culver's. 8-20-2013.) I brought the jar home and placed it on my kitchen counter. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5dgrxlfVg1o1cPDbCIh5aNDqYySZC6Hspyb8ICfn7uNp4HkURnp8Xn2Pq0ByruTX28_nbmEO0mttySt6rRmE9aCMaeKt6uCV9V6tNEGCp88pKqksQd7fXN0b2OZtdPGfO5Agov_YRLX4/s1600/pinterest+jar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5dgrxlfVg1o1cPDbCIh5aNDqYySZC6Hspyb8ICfn7uNp4HkURnp8Xn2Pq0ByruTX28_nbmEO0mttySt6rRmE9aCMaeKt6uCV9V6tNEGCp88pKqksQd7fXN0b2OZtdPGfO5Agov_YRLX4/s1600/pinterest+jar.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">A Happiness Jar from Pinterest. You can tell this person started the project on January 1st. I feel my stomach knotting up just thinking about printing that label on my uncooperative printer. PLUS, look how all the strips of paper are exactly the same size. Not going to happen. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Now all you perfectionists out there could go all "Pinterest" on me - etching the word happiness on an apothecary</span><span style="font-size: large;"> jar or scrounging through thrift shops for just the right shabby chic jar. I would recommend using what is around and just get started. I have seen people dream of "being creative," only to do nothing because everything has to be perfect before they can start a project. These are the same people who have to start their "Happiness Jar" on New Year's Day. Pst. You can start your project whenever you want.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;">STEP 2: </span> Stack a good-sized pile of scratch paper or place a wee notebook next to your happiness jar. I use scraps of paper left over from collaging and other art projects. Again, I advise against going "Pinterest." Making your own paper studded with flower seeds so you can plant your happy memories later on is going WAY too far.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;">STEP 3: </span> Every day write down one thing that made you happy and put the slip in the jar. You could also add a ticket stub, a note from a friend, or a drawing your 1st grader did. What should you do if you miss a day? Nothing. I am pretty sure I missed the entire month of March, due to it being March in Wisconsin. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;">STEP 4: </span> Figure out when you want to read your happiness slips. You could read them exactly one year after starting the project. Or you could do what I do, dip your hand into the jar when you're having a bad day and need some happiness. Some days I have needed to pull out a whole handful of happiness. My happiness jar has never disappointed me. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh4X3pYoapTeH3bOhPbFewTH0QtEp68WaTs7zO8Lll10DgU-x6YyVK4fGLBl40bF_wEqTESx2aIdnLBYc4dAcCfDlXXoMG-VbL3R2tdoefl9W6bf8Xfj8wOqakU-CB8z8zgfgPzkgX-9A/s1600/jar+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh4X3pYoapTeH3bOhPbFewTH0QtEp68WaTs7zO8Lll10DgU-x6YyVK4fGLBl40bF_wEqTESx2aIdnLBYc4dAcCfDlXXoMG-VbL3R2tdoefl9W6bf8Xfj8wOqakU-CB8z8zgfgPzkgX-9A/s1600/jar+1.jpg" height="219" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">A post-it from a student</span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrirjYx4WNP6OpvQg9oD2VgiKowv3XO2VZhlnQmjxtu-coGnZ7xQZej2HM7_CP8BMyJtdl5xQNJYIK4QqCczfIB3UGj_n9cbR4Un0S8sgJy7U6j4BG7sG5R1VHvXrKtkX8JRLapCDDWNQ/s1600/miranda.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"></span></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0s7ajWteTlX-oG8UsHkPZS5viKBxAaLYelJk6kVxfW_OpPa7oU7Rn7yvQ_olbrc41YHOjQbCUP2FHTORmivYRP5qQEPrVosn26mYu2pgWUyRX0QOpHymX0jUisPnLinR5LMghr592Dso/s1600/jar+two.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0s7ajWteTlX-oG8UsHkPZS5viKBxAaLYelJk6kVxfW_OpPa7oU7Rn7yvQ_olbrc41YHOjQbCUP2FHTORmivYRP5qQEPrVosn26mYu2pgWUyRX0QOpHymX0jUisPnLinR5LMghr592Dso/s1600/jar+two.jpg" height="320" width="176" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"> I wrote down what daughter Lulu said about the portrait she drew of me. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6kYPXpt_7Ktjrdn0HXlBEEiC2tE-VAO5O581zdddav3FDU96OGZZdzo9tHTMS2I5r4qS2MSfGmEKzyM4CTDPKV8xY6dly9xHWrHmxm_pdDoA_2_UUcuKICy3iOmLtMWmPpP5bfhx8EPc/s1600/jar+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6kYPXpt_7Ktjrdn0HXlBEEiC2tE-VAO5O581zdddav3FDU96OGZZdzo9tHTMS2I5r4qS2MSfGmEKzyM4CTDPKV8xY6dly9xHWrHmxm_pdDoA_2_UUcuKICy3iOmLtMWmPpP5bfhx8EPc/s1600/jar+3.jpg" height="172" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Everyone should have a friend like Prairie Sherry. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now. Find a jar and get going!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Prairie Eydie </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">PS - Let me know what happens. </span><br />
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Prairie Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15607315139694984552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921053771391766398.post-39182671813312609482015-05-04T08:30:00.000-05:002015-05-04T08:30:52.124-05:00Fiddles, Guitars, and Rabbit Tobacco<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">This morning, while enjoying my newly habituated morning routine of coffee in bed, I found myself musing over the Ingalls girls--Mary, Laura, Carrie, and Grace. Yes, the inspiration for this blog, the true Prairie Grlz are never far from my consciousness. For those new to the blog and have no idea what I am talking about, let me refer you to the 8 volume series of true Americana written by Laura Ingalls Wilder.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.theglassjunkie.com/images/BookSet%20-%20Little%20House%20On%20The%20Prairie3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.theglassjunkie.com/images/BookSet%20-%20Little%20House%20On%20The%20Prairie3.JPG" height="218" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The octa-fecta of wonderfulness.</span></td></tr>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">As I sipped, I pondered the probing question--Which Ingalls girl would have been the most likely to go to a Grateful Dead revival concert? I know that this query stretches the human conception of the continuum of time and space, but if you look at pictures of the Grateful Dead, Jerry Garcia did bear more than a fleeting resemblance to Charles Ingalls.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://assets.rollingstone.com/assets/images/story/jerry-garcia-documentary-in-the-works-20120105/rectangle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="http://assets.rollingstone.com/assets/images/story/jerry-garcia-documentary-in-the-works-20120105/rectangle.jpg" height="215" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Jerry Garcia</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Not this Charles Ingalls...</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://myfivebest.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/06/CharlesIngalls.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="http://myfivebest.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/06/CharlesIngalls.png" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Michael Landon</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">The real Charles Ingalls...</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.liwfrontiergirl.com/pa.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="http://www.liwfrontiergirl.com/pa.gif" height="320" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Pa (Charles) Ingalls</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Pa (aka Charles) and Jerry both had a roaming spirit, played musical instruments (fiddle and guitar), and smoked. I am seriously doubting Pa was having tobacco Pony Expressed to him out on the Prairie. I think he was finding a bit of what my dad referred to as "rabbit tobacco" during his wandering "hunting trips." </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #2c353c; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"><i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Gnaphalium obtusifolium. Unmistakable by its creamy appearance in the still green background of the early fall meadows. Leaves long, elliptical and silver green colored. Plant up to one meter high. Unusual fragrance. Can be smoked for respiratory ailments or made into a relaxing tea. A common tobacco substitute used by children in rural areas. It is said to have a mild sedative effect." </span></i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #2c353c; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"><i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #2c353c; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">It wasn't pot, but the sedative effect may have accounted for Pa's seeming inability to focus long enough to establish more than a dirt dugout or a shanty for his family. The family was starving, and Pa would stagger in without a rabbit or woodchuck, but a smile on his face and a song in his heart. He'd drag out that fiddle and torture his family with his rendition of "Truckin'" or "Friend of the Devil."</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #2c353c; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I digress. Back to the question of which Ingalls daughter would have most likely become a Dead Head. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #2c353c; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">You may be asking yourself why such a question would even occur to Prairie Sherry, the Karen Carpenter devotee. Dear Prairie Readers, in our never ending desire to broaden our limited horizons, the Prairie Grlz recently attended a Grateful Dead revival at Madison's Barrymore Theater. The details of that experience will be related in a later post. Prairie Eydie and I considered it a writer's opportunity couldn't be missed, and I have a cellphone filled with undecipherable notes and blurry pictures that will be shared in the near future. Let it be known that we only drank beer, but the effects of second hand smoke of another nature has been googled and noted.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #2c353c; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Still digressing.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #2c353c; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Most of our dear Prairie Readers may assume that Laura would be our most likely choice for a potential Dead Head experience. That spunky "little half-pint of cider half drunk up" as Pa liked to say. Certainly sweet, perfect Mary would have never considered taking such a chance. And what do we really know about Baby Grace? </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #2c353c; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Carrie Ingalls. That is my choice. Unassuming and quiet Carrie. The girl that barely survived The Long Winter. During our exhaustive research road trip to South Dakota several summers ago, Prairie Eydie and I discovered the wild side of Carrie Ingalls.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #2c353c; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">As a young woman, Carrie staked her own homestead claim on the wilds of the prairie and lived there alone. She loved to travel. She worked for a newspaper. This is the type of Prairie Grl who would thrown on her tie dye and follow her band. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.liwfrontiergirl.com/carrie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="http://www.liwfrontiergirl.com/carrie.jpg" height="320" width="246" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Rockin' Party Animal</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #2c353c; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">And I bet she would have taken Nellie Oleson with her.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://pbs.twimg.com/profile_images/2348032750/e4zir1wd92gv7lcqk4ox_400x400.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://pbs.twimg.com/profile_images/2348032750/e4zir1wd92gv7lcqk4ox_400x400.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Rabbit tobacco???????</span></td></tr>
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Ever yours, and so glad to be back,</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #2c353c; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">Prairie Sherry</span></span>Prairie Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15607315139694984552noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921053771391766398.post-79679096352023115242015-04-30T13:44:00.000-05:002015-05-01T07:32:04.594-05:00The Art of Budgeting<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjppHJPuQ6pX-Q-IZViYt0oaGluhFlke3umt_DjJ7-YL5v5qI9c-zCfYF0lHBw1oy5Aaixhc9QqoqvUnrmOvvRORF2JUqkZsYrdf9fAXwneqYeQ6eNzzxnypewLV4UpYBYHXlsK2nHTG1U/s1600/starbucks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjppHJPuQ6pX-Q-IZViYt0oaGluhFlke3umt_DjJ7-YL5v5qI9c-zCfYF0lHBw1oy5Aaixhc9QqoqvUnrmOvvRORF2JUqkZsYrdf9fAXwneqYeQ6eNzzxnypewLV4UpYBYHXlsK2nHTG1U/s1600/starbucks.jpg" height="224" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Good Morning Eydie! We recognize you and will happily over charge you for a cuppa coffee. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Have you ever read an article or heard Suze Orman (Who I think is WAY over caffeinated. She is way too intense about ROTH and IRA accounts. I'll start worrying about that <i>after</i> I retire, thank you very much!) telling you to save hundreds of dollars a year by denying yourself a morning latte?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqyo1sAdqsgmwIsPQefAFsSdjasqeR7PHDNx4Ug4skShZ1lSAaJOV6kAs8lCoakG2aq9ByNVNakJF5_O2tIYjWkdECqZioVhpBGIg0w_KID07VQJX5kUyeUkk2uiN2B9rETI-XajdVKmk/s1600/suze-denied_0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqyo1sAdqsgmwIsPQefAFsSdjasqeR7PHDNx4Ug4skShZ1lSAaJOV6kAs8lCoakG2aq9ByNVNakJF5_O2tIYjWkdECqZioVhpBGIg0w_KID07VQJX5kUyeUkk2uiN2B9rETI-XajdVKmk/s1600/suze-denied_0.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">In my case it isn't a latte, but a dark roast Starbucks coffee with a splash of cream. (For those of you wondering why I am not frequenting a local coffee shop, it is because my community has two locally owned coffee shops and neither brew strong enough coffee for this Prairie Gal.) I tried drinking "work coffee" for awhile, but ended up in a decaffeinated rage. My anger and deprivation was definitely NOT worth the $2.22 I was saving four or five times a week.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkGOYt8trgAHwiTNWPuQyJuWmRLV8nC7HWqVqCZ9t2vt1xC7vZNanaL9d6KFU3mQ5DsPSB7-lWBfwm_KGsYo266DSVFnD34v24yNwQz1R2zsKn9UUQbbdBA2pAGZDLCNjgwsugLRIua8U/s1600/starbucks+comic.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkGOYt8trgAHwiTNWPuQyJuWmRLV8nC7HWqVqCZ9t2vt1xC7vZNanaL9d6KFU3mQ5DsPSB7-lWBfwm_KGsYo266DSVFnD34v24yNwQz1R2zsKn9UUQbbdBA2pAGZDLCNjgwsugLRIua8U/s1600/starbucks+comic.gif" height="205" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Instead, I have found other ways to save money, and budget, that do not involve limiting coffee drinks of any kind. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7SVS2RuDqzQkmjcPh-RBeSuxOSO0zkt6uZwRkFFhj1i8dwwPTD8yDifwmYMyki9MAhItlnfUFFYPK4d8-gn7cL2djlCa2Ws63V_MWlLKO3knyEGatUWpNKjIPc1THaIRMJrBXM2NTmJs/s1600/aunt+bee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7SVS2RuDqzQkmjcPh-RBeSuxOSO0zkt6uZwRkFFhj1i8dwwPTD8yDifwmYMyki9MAhItlnfUFFYPK4d8-gn7cL2djlCa2Ws63V_MWlLKO3knyEGatUWpNKjIPc1THaIRMJrBXM2NTmJs/s1600/aunt+bee.jpg" height="252" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Did you know - Aunt Bee was 58 when she started appearing on the Andy Griffith Show. Apparently she was difficult to work with and often clashed with Andy Griffith. No word on if she clashed with Don Knotts.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">1. Wait until you look like Aunt Bea on The Andy Griffith Show before getting a cut and color. Added bonus? Everyone will comment on how FaBuLoUs you look after your salon splurge.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">2. Bring your own nail polish to your next pedicure. That way you can touch up polish chips yourself and prolong your pedicure. (This is a tip from Prairie Sherry that I have never tried. I am too embarrasses to get a pedicure since my feet look like hooves after the harsh Wisconsin winter.)</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7T1sL-RBI1SMP32xMjUacERuiM-iUrTrVyoolt4YoRCJ4eVhZboTai0bzBK6epK6JcTcGOmFRHVRtlY7jIjhZjxPS_Mhx_Q_wnEUyz7y5pC1n-DqDKwGA0YYrLl8m-e9VzzQrD4J5Rus/s1600/julia+child.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7T1sL-RBI1SMP32xMjUacERuiM-iUrTrVyoolt4YoRCJ4eVhZboTai0bzBK6epK6JcTcGOmFRHVRtlY7jIjhZjxPS_Mhx_Q_wnEUyz7y5pC1n-DqDKwGA0YYrLl8m-e9VzzQrD4J5Rus/s1600/julia+child.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">3. Plant a square foot garden in May, by the end of July you'll be harvesting baskets of cucumbers, tomatoes, kale, bean . . . (NOTE: Don't think you will save money by canning your own tomatoes. Instead, befriend Prairie Sherry and she will can your tomatoes for you.) You will find that you rarely need to buy anything in your grocery store produce section.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">4. Let all your magazine subscriptions run out and dust off your library card. Magazines only encourage you to spend more money. Oprah's magazine will have you spending your paycheck on a quest to find the best dry shampoo. Dry shampoo is a time saver, not a money saver. Plus, Prairie Friends, I have already done the dry shampoo quest and the answer is :</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-_UlhYUCUo6nru8UZnxVnkqn2Vudz0E3NnhCpZa2_vILGzq4OqMgsWX28tu34bRmnFt4L9o-nSAYrUZ6hFoaQCCgR02JGGZZNZ2RDiT-ZvDayVNfxXipWxkUbHfejet4kyiJ8hifn4Uc/s1600/dry+shampoo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-_UlhYUCUo6nru8UZnxVnkqn2Vudz0E3NnhCpZa2_vILGzq4OqMgsWX28tu34bRmnFt4L9o-nSAYrUZ6hFoaQCCgR02JGGZZNZ2RDiT-ZvDayVNfxXipWxkUbHfejet4kyiJ8hifn4Uc/s1600/dry+shampoo.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">HGTV magazine will send you scampering to buy a new light fixture for your entry way or an indoor/outdoor rug for your deck. A more economical way to spruce these areas up is with a broom. If you must have magazine subscriptions, I would suggest Reader's Digest. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYbtEriRyRHhn265-ujrNRAT-S_VYkFH11hVa5Si0az9Zy4mkJ_QUYGEnAn9C0MMtCozGRwJAgFLCSjoWzzVoA0creURMPFcf9TFSBfs9jACJW9ZEsrNZ78LQWm9dBPueipxZj9IpyTVg/s1600/Raquel+Welsch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYbtEriRyRHhn265-ujrNRAT-S_VYkFH11hVa5Si0az9Zy4mkJ_QUYGEnAn9C0MMtCozGRwJAgFLCSjoWzzVoA0creURMPFcf9TFSBfs9jACJW9ZEsrNZ78LQWm9dBPueipxZj9IpyTVg/s1600/Raquel+Welsch.jpg" height="320" width="209" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I bet beautiful Raquel has had this dress since 1957. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">5. Invest in leopard print clothes and accessories. It seems like every year leopard print is a trend. And even if it isn't - you will look both retro and cutting edge. (Prairie Sharon read in a magazine that women over 30 shouldn't wear leopard print. I say cancel the subscription to that dumb magazine.)</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">6. If you are a teacher, stake a place by the garbage can in the school cafeteria. You will easily score complete, untouched lunches for your own children. Cha-ching! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">7. Do not find yourself in a TJ Maxx or Marshall's parking lot with twenty-five minutes to kill. You do not need a new "lettuce green" handbag or a lemon zester. If you do find yourself in this dangerous situation, drive to the nearest Starbucks to regroup with a grande Pike Place, light on the cream.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Prairie Eydie</span>Prairie Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15607315139694984552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921053771391766398.post-31959462160478252842015-03-02T20:26:00.002-06:002015-03-02T20:35:40.401-06:00The Art of Being Brave<span style="font-size: large;">I have not mastered this art, but I am working on it.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://media-cdn.tripadvisor.com/media/photo-s/05/2e/51/79/view-of-sledding-hill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://media-cdn.tripadvisor.com/media/photo-s/05/2e/51/79/view-of-sledding-hill.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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The infamous Elver Park Hill!</h3>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This week-end my grandson, David, asked if I would take him to the "big hill" to go sledding. I said no, and proceeded to remind him that just a year ago my wrist was still in an air cast after shattering it on an icy driveway in January. "I don't think Grandma will be going to the big hill to sled any more.</span><span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Today, while having coffee with a new friend, I related this story. While I expected a sympathetic ear (the new friend is six years older), instead I was reminded that life is short, and that life with good health is even shorter. Although the exact words were not said, "Go sledding with the grandson," was the crystal-clear message.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Thank you, new friend! I needed that reminder.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The very same week-end past, I took a bold and brave chance. Our dishwasher had stopped really washing, and was merely spewing a film of half-dissolved detergent and micro food slime onto our glasses and dishes. This had happened once before, and I had despaired over paying a repairman to replace my food chopper (didn't know I had one) to the tune of $178.98. Now, armed with the term "food chopper" and my Kenmore model number, I hit the internet. Youtube provided a step-by-step video on the disassembly and cleaning of said food chopper. I went to the hardware store with a strong resolve.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">If you are having problems with your dishwasher, check out this informative, but rather dull video.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HPrp9kgMJls" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HPrp9kgMJls</a></span><br />
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<a href="http://i776.photobucket.com/albums/yy41/ronjenx/T-15Torx.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://i776.photobucket.com/albums/yy41/ronjenx/T-15Torx.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">An hour later, armed with a $4.99 T15 torx driver, I laid out the innards of that dishwasher, including the chopper, and cleaned and reassembled it in 45 minutes. In that certain glow of satisfaction, I sat on the floor amidst a pile of greasy rags, a decimated toothbrush, and a collection of nasty food-related bits , and toasted myself with a nice glass of Malbec. If I smoked, it would have been a great time for a cigarette.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">For me, that disassembly took a brave leap of faith. Success--dishes washed with mechanical ease. Failure--prune-like fingers and our meals reduced to one-pan wonders.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Another bit of bravery--I started a new job last week. Yes, the former gig at Hy-Vee was paying for the health insurance, but little else. In December, I gathered up my courage and reapplied at a food co-op that had soundly rejected me a year ago. Two interviews later, I gave my two-week's notice, and traded starched white shirts and black dress pants for my hippy skirts and leggings. My paycheck is larger and I am getting some benefits! Peace and love, baby!</span><br />
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Just call me Sunshine.</h3>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It is March 2nd. This is Wisconsin. Snow is in the forecast for tonight. We'll probably get several more snowfalls before April The sleds are in the garage. The grandkids are a phone call away. I think I may conquer that hill yet.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Prairie Sherry</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">P.S.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The dog just came in with a dead bird in her mouth. I didn't even flinch as I wrenched it from her jaws!</span><br />
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Prairie Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15607315139694984552noreply@blogger.com1