tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-82383212084927203302024-02-22T08:08:59.152-08:00Ireland Ever AfterAdjusting to married life and living happily ever after...in Ireland.LesleyRHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17295150424965085567noreply@blogger.comBlogger156125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238321208492720330.post-3876311365834337612015-03-30T12:30:00.001-07:002015-03-30T12:31:24.296-07:00This blog now available in book formatMy blog, <em>Ireland Ever After</em>, is now available as a book in paperback form. Also available are never before published Coincidence short stories. If you don't know, Coincidence is the name of my first book. Link to purchase <em>Ireland Ever After: An American in Ireland, The Blog</em> is below.<br />
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<a href="http://www.lulu.com/shop/lesley-hager-concannon/ireland-ever-after-an-american-in-ireland-the-blog/paperback/product-22054776.html">http://www.lulu.com/shop/lesley-hager-concannon/ireland-ever-after-an-american-in-ireland-the-blog/paperback/product-22054776.html</a>LesleyRHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17295150424965085567noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238321208492720330.post-31489410979786475882013-12-16T04:21:00.001-08:002013-12-16T04:21:14.065-08:00Up and awayWell, it's been nearly six months since my last post and I come back now only to say the absence will continue for the forseeable future. Thank you to everyone who have read my blog and enjoyed it and even if you haven't enjoyed it, well thanks to you too. You've made it what it is and have laughed along with me as I've navigated a new life with my husband and daughter in a foreign country. Although, I'm not saying goodbye to blogging and Ireland Ever After, for the time being, I'm choosing to live my life and not write about it. I'm sure there will be a random post here and there until I decide to come back to blogging more often. I have an amazing group of friends and family and you know who you are, and at the minute, my time is best spent with them and not online. Without sounding like too much of a cliche, never take anything for granted. Yes, we may get easily annoyed or aggravated with simple things, but in the end, if you have your family and friends and your health, then nothing else matters. With those three simple things in place, you can get through anything. And, anyone that wishes unpleasant things on you, then hold your head up high, but hold your fingers up higher ;) Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all my readers. May God Bless you. LesleyRHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17295150424965085567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238321208492720330.post-88217481939947446972013-06-02T19:23:00.002-07:002013-06-02T19:23:30.771-07:00It didn't sink My weekend? Dancing with Zumba All Stars Sheldon and Eric with my girls from Pilot's Row in Belfast's Titanic Quarter in front of a replica of the staircase of the Titanic.<br />
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LesleyRHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17295150424965085567noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238321208492720330.post-25717909205425544682013-05-13T17:27:00.000-07:002013-05-13T17:27:42.381-07:00Cheeky weekend in ScotlandBarry, Isla and I decided to hop across the water for the weekend and visit Scotland. I've never been, Barry's never been and Isla's definitely never been so off we went. We landed in Glasgow. I secretly hoped for a nice, tropical getaway...you know different from the wet weather of Derry. Unfortunately, it was not to be had! Glasgow is, of course, more North than Derry so any chance of warmer weather...well, I knew it wasn't going to happen but hey...can't blame me for wishing. By the way, someone needs to let that 'ol cow Mother Nature know it's May and freezing rain and hailstones is a no no! <br />
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We stayed in a hotel where Barry bumped into someone who lives just right down the street from us and the lady that worked in the breakfast room every morning actually had a son who went to college in West Virginia! I'll use the never overused phrase here: small world. The lady didn't actually know I was from West Virginia because she was slagging the crap out of it talking to someone else lol. She had been. To a podunk town I'll add so I can kind of see her view but you know...don't judge a book and all that jazz. I thought for a moment about going over and embarrassing her and telling her I was from West Virginia, but I didn't. How crap would she have felt...and she was so nice to Isla every morning. But, you can go no where!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Isla at Pizza Hut in Glasgow. She learned to color here! We have to make our dining out experiences now in these types of places as she's loud, whiny and makes it a habit to ruin others dinners!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hotel hallway crawling. A baby's favorite thing.</td></tr>
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So, we conquered Glasgow...exploring Buchanan St., all the shopping centres including the one housing the only Hamley's outside of London. And, I didn't buy one thing! Except lots of food! We walked our feet off and pretty much hit every touristy sight in Glasgow. After that was finished, me and my little touristy self wouldn't have been content with just one city, so we hopped a train to Edinburgh for the day on Sunday. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting ready to explore Hamley's! Sort of the same as FAO Schwartz....</td></tr>
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I have yet to see another city with a skyline as domineering, dramatic and breathtaking as Edinburgh. From the castle swooping out of the side of the hill as if it's part of the actual mountain, to the old buildings that seem to collide into one, my eyes were never bored while we dandered about Edinburgh. Starting from the castle and walking down Royal Mile, I could actually picture Mary Queen of Scots doing the same thing. Well, I like to liken myself to royalty, so I could actually picture myself doing it. Kidding by the way. No, I'm not. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Edinburgh skyline.</td></tr>
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Barry and I have three cameras between us not including the cameras on our phones. However, not one of our three cameras works and we had to rely on our crap phones for pictures the whole weekend. I'm uber not impressed with the quality because of course pictures never fully capture what you're seeing with your naked eye.<br />
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The only crap thing about Edinburgh: Holy cheese is it expensive! The castle was okay. It was very expensive. Sixteeen pounds per person to get in for a total of £32. Actually, it was £33 because Barry decided to accidentally drop a pound coin in the castle off to the side where everything was roped off and no one could get to. Not a fan of losing money even if it is a pound. That could have bought a packet of biscuits at the pound shop! I was disappointed in the castle and Edinburgh only a smidge because it is so bloody commericalized and touristy. In fact, the whole weekend, I don't think I heard many Scottish accents! They were Italian, French and those damn bloody Yanks everywhere and their uniform fanny packs (get your giggles out all you Derry folk lol...yes, we call them fanny packs!), red waterproof jackets and massive white trainers. I don't understand why Americans come over here and dress like this. They do it here in Derry, too. All trotting off the bus down at Free Derry corner with their standard issue red coats, white shoes and fanny packs. They don't dress like that at home! Why do they do it anywhere else? Makes me wanna go over and slap them when I see it and shake them and tell them they're not giving off the best impression!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here' s the room inside Edinburgh Castle where Barry lost the pound coin.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Queen for the day outside Edinburgh Castle. If only I knew we were going to lose a pound coin inside...I would have wiped that smile off my face!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Holyrood House Palace in Edinburgh at the bottom of Royal Mile. We took a royal pees here and changed a royal diaper. Well, at the visitor's center anyway.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Glasgow Cathedral</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Glasgow Necropolis</td></tr>
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And, on our way to the Glasgow airport today, we encountered a lovely bus driver. This is where the title of this blog post comes in. A cheeky trip, indeeed. Because we got a bit of cheek from the bus driver who threatened to punch Barry and told me to my face while holding my 15 month old daughter, "F*£$ you!" A long story about this, but we were actually in the right and had many witnesses who gave good testimony as we filed a formal complaint. Still made it to the airport on time though! Boom!LesleyRHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17295150424965085567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238321208492720330.post-21868995071298577892013-05-05T17:07:00.001-07:002013-05-05T17:10:34.217-07:00What to do nowI started off the year thinking that this year would be a clean slate. And, I mean that in the sense that I didn't have anything major planned. Since I've met Barry, I've had something major planned every year (wedding, engagement, book, moving, Zumba classes, Zumbathons, vacations, etc.). This marks the fifth year I've known Barry, so when January came and I had nothing planned, I didn't know what to do with myself. It took two weeks into January and then my calendar was officially booked for the first part of the year. My spacing could have been a little better because most things I signed up for that second week of January came to fruition this week. The first of which was a Strictly Come Dancing style dance competition for charity (Dancing with the Stars to my American readers). My partner and I have been meeting for months and practicing our dance. We competed in the Zumba category, naturally. Months of practice came to a head Friday night as we performed in front of hundreds of people our dance. Here's a few photographs and a video...looking at these photos, I'm rethinking this whole growing out my fringe/bangs. My forehead is so big you could land a freakin' plane on it. Where are my scissors?<br />
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A few weeks prior to the competition, all the dancers met and put together a silly Britney Spears Hit Me Baby One More Time parody video. Here's the proof...you may want to sit down before you watch the video...and your eyes may bleed a bit:</div>
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The morning after this was a Zumbathon for a group called Parents of Older Children with Autism. </div>
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Now, it's time to put my feet up and relax a little bit. Oh, wait. I'm the mother of a one year old...feet up doesn't happen anymore!</div>
LesleyRHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17295150424965085567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238321208492720330.post-76794490345540760322013-04-29T13:53:00.002-07:002013-04-29T13:53:43.187-07:00A bobby pin shocked meThis blew my mind today:<br />
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Am I simple? Am I the only one who thought it was the other way? How can I be 32 years old and not know the right way to use a bobby pin? I'm ashamed of myself. Once I saw this picture, I went upstairs and pulled out my bobby pin stash and actually put one in my hair the correct way...and it was like night and day! These things actually work! All this time I thought it was a load of crap! <br />
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Other than being astonished by bobby pins, I'm so busy at the minute. To think I started this year off saying to Barry that I have nothing planned and now I'm up to my neck in stuff. This week is especially a killer. I'm competing in a Strictly Come Dancing-style competition on Friday (to my American friends...a Dancing with the Stars-style competition) then I have a Zumbathon beginning first thing Saturday morning. This, in addition to my other classes and the practicing for the competition. Plus, I've decided to make this the week to start a 3-day herbal life trial. This sucks. I miss food. I'm on day one. No food makes me wanna kill dead things! Will I make it to day 3? I don't know. <br />
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LesleyRHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17295150424965085567noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238321208492720330.post-46516418765159382772013-04-16T17:29:00.000-07:002013-04-16T17:29:15.302-07:00Oh, the moaning...Why does Isla cry? Top reasons for uncalled moaning and crying from our 1 year old daughter. <br />
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Because we put Easter Bunny ears on her.<br />
Because she can't touch the glass candle holders by the television.<br />
Because she can't touch the screen of the television.<br />
Because she can't shake the television.<br />
Because she's pooping.<br />
Because she can't get water out of her sippy cup because she's not tipping it far enough.<br />
Because we put her in the...gasp...playpen. Oh, the agony!<br />
Because she can't play with Iggle Piggle while she's eating.<br />
Because our cat Charlie walks away from her instead of letting her pull his fur.<br />
Because she's teething (okay well this one is legitimate).<br />
Because she won't let me let her kill herself by sticking a finger or a Starbucks straw into the electrical socket.<br />
Because we put her in the pram.<br />
Because we take her to the park and make her try to walk by herself.<br />
Because she can't eat the food off of Mommy and Daddy's plate even though it's the EXACT same food that's on her plate.<br />
Because she isn't allowed to electrocute herself by putting her hand in the toaster.<br />
Because she isn't allowed to dip her finger into a really hot cup of tea.<br />
Because her favorite show, In The Night Garden, goes off.<br />
Because she's not allowed to chew on my phone.<br />
Because she's not allowed to touch my computer.<br />
Because she's not allowed to kill herself by falling down the stairs...a.k.a she's not allowed to play on the stairs.<br />
Because she's not allowed to ingest poison by playing under the sink.<br />
Because her pink toy car she rides in stops. And by stops I mean because Mommy and Daddy stops pushing it for one nanosecond.<br />
Because I lift her out of the bathtub after bathtime is over.<br />
Because people are talking to her. You're only allowed to talk to her and receive a smile AFTER you've been in her company for at LEAST 2 hours. Hey, I don't make the rules. These are rules according to Isla lol.<br />
Because she can't kick her shoes off.<br />
Because I make her get dressed.<br />
Because I brush her hair.<br />
Because Mommy and Daddy look wayyyyy to comfortable and relaxed on the sofa. That just doesn't happen.<br />
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And, that is all for now.<br />
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LesleyRHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17295150424965085567noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238321208492720330.post-60306130100939655062013-03-28T16:28:00.003-07:002013-03-28T16:28:38.384-07:00Meanwhile in Siberia...we're enjoying the lovely Spring weather here in SiberIreland (get it? Siberia + Ireland = SiberIreland). Yes, Spring has sprung in Ireland and honestly, I didn't know it was supposed to snow in Spring and reach below freezing temperatures for days and weeks on end! But, like they say...every day's a school day! So, welcome Spring, I can't wait to build a snowman...ya Dick!<br />
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In other news, we've reached the point where it's time to start reprimanding Isla because she's now at the stage of misbehaving and pushing and pushing to see what she can get away with. Basically, she's trying to see if she can make her puppet parents dance. I'll admit, I'm sure she does on some things, but I think Barry and I have been pretty good at keeping her reprimanding consistent. Well, except for when we want to laugh at each other. I mean, come on! When Isla does something she isn't supposed to and Barry responds with, "Isla, no! Daddy beat!" well, what reaction and I'm supposed to have? Baaaahahahhahhahaahah....DADDY BEAT! How silly does that sound? I have to laugh, which makes Isla laugh which basically makes us look like imbeciles to our one year old. So, "Daddy Beat!" has become a joke in our house now. <br />
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Additionally, it seems as if Isla only wants to do things and get into things that will kill her. That's basically what I mean when I say she's misbehaving. She's trying to kill herself I think. For example, she just loves the only accessible wall outlet in the living room. She has even figured out how to remove the child proof cover and she has tried to see if she could fit a straw in the tiny little outlet holes. Barry and I have become friggin' defenders of the outlet for most of the day. Each of us taking shifts to guard the outlet and make sure it's not poked and prodded by a baby and her tools. <br />
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When we're not defending the wall outlet, we're defending our television as she has grown fond of pulling herself up on the television stand and shaking it back and forth causing the TV to shake back and forth. Now, if I lose my television and access to Celebrity Juice, well I don't know that I could recover from something like that. <br />
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I'm away for now, it's only 12 hours until Barry and I put back on our defenders of the outlet and TV uniforms! Happy Easter!<br />
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LesleyRHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17295150424965085567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238321208492720330.post-28155941735545909242013-03-11T14:33:00.003-07:002013-03-11T14:36:03.700-07:00Walk on water...err...fireWell...what can I say? I'm magnificent. Actually, I'm strong, I'm powerful and I'm magnificent! Where am I finding all this new self-confidence? I just completed a Firewalk last Thursday for charity (Children in Crossfire). Basically, I raised a lot of money to walk my bare tootsies across <br />
1,246 degree farenheit fiery embers. And...it was so easy. I didn't feel anything! I would so do it again. Prior to the 20 feet scurry across the embers, we went through a two hour "training." It was more like a think positive and leave the negative pep talk. There is no actual technique to firewalking other than walk fast and don't stop as you're walking. During the two hour pep talk, one of the exercises was where we had to repeat that we were strong, powerful and magnificent five times. So, now we all believe it (me and the other 29 firewalkers). Of course, Barry has to endure my saying this all the time now. I think he's enjoying all my new found self-confidence. He hasn't rolled his eyes or anything while I'm telling him how magnificent I am...nor, when I tell him how I walked on water...erm...fire. Here's a couple of photos of the actual firewalk area and then there's a video of me walking as if I'm holding two big rolls of carpet under my arm. I don't know what that's about. <br />
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My walk is at about 2 minutes and 15 seconds in the video there. Also, I went and saw an awesome show on Friday. Hofesh Shecter's Political Mother was the show. Brought to Derry as part of the City of Culture designation and it was really amazing. The music and the choreography was out of this world intense. Here's a clip of what it was but to see it in person is the way to go.</div>
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How awesome is that?</div>
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Lastly, yesterday was Mother's Day here and I got spoiled by my one year old daughter. She made me breakfast and bought me a pair of boots from Dorothy Perkins I'd had my eye on. Then she made me homemade sugar cookies and homemade lasagna! She's pretty talented for a one year old. She was even so eager to spend more time with her mommy that she refused to go to bed at her bedtime and instead filled my ears with the joy that is her crying. But, on the plus side to that, I technically get two Mother's Days because they don't celebrate Mother's Day til May in America there and I AM American so technically I do get two special days...right, Barry? He's very supportive of this idea, too. My little helper also helped me empty the dryer yesterday. Yes, that's right...a dryer! After two years of moaning I'm now the proud owner of a used dryer! It was bought from half a gypsy couple we think but it works so far and it hasn't tried to sell my a recliner or rug and it hasn't robbed me yet...hmm...although it did steal a bit of pocket change...so so far so good. I'll keep you posted on that.</div>
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LesleyRHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17295150424965085567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238321208492720330.post-80234633222000903032013-02-13T17:24:00.000-08:002013-02-13T17:24:33.281-08:00Inside a sick house<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The Concannons have succumbed to one of the worst stomach viruses floating around. Of all the times I've been sick, well...this time took the cake. Now that Barry, Isla and I are on the mend from this intestine-eating menace, I'm taking time to reflect. Reflect with me...<br />
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<strong><u>Day 1 (that becomes Day 2):</u></strong> It's a Friday. We leave a memorial mass in Buncrana and depart for Derry. Immediately upon departure, Isla begins puking her guts out. Like, serious non-stop puking. We stop to clean it up. Once clean, we depart again...said puking begins again. It doesn't relent. I panic...convinced she is dying. I demand we go to the hospital. Thus begins the longest ride between Buncrana and Derry ever. To say I was clattered in vomit would be an understatement, so you can only imagine how bad Isla was. We arrive at the hospital...screaming baby, panicked mommy in hand. We are seen immediately but only to be kept waiting in the emergency room for 6 hours waiting on the Children's Ward to let us up to be admitted (I think we're in Day 2 at this point). While waiting, Isla pukes more, over and over...so much it becomes bright green bile and that is what we look at for the next 5 hours. Any normal person would be disgusted...put off eating. But, not me. I'm a beast...a starving beast...and I decide to eat a sandwich whilst covered in green baby bile vomit. Barry is repulsed. I was starving. I think I mentioned that. Finally, upon arriving in the Children's Ward, Isla stops puking. Thankfully and just in time....because that day is her birthday (yes we're definitely in Day 2 now). She turned 1 in the same place she was born, however it wasn't really a day worth celebrating as she was so sick. She's hooked up to a fluid drip. Barry goes home to sleep. I stay. Barry has to return home because Isla's birthday party starts at 2pm on Saturday, when he finally gets home, its 5am on Saturday. We could have cancelled the party, but we had a caterer coming and paid for and about 30 people set to arrive. Even with the wee guest of honor missing, the party would have had to have gone on. <br />
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<strong><u>Day 2 (officially):</u></strong> Barry wakes up and gets the house ready for the party. Meanwhile, in Ward 6, Isla wakes up and pulls me from my pretzel-like sleep position I've managed to find most comfortable in the most uncomfortable chair in the world located beside her bed. You would think they would provide at least a footstool for the parents that stay in the Children's Ward with their babies...hmmm. Isla tries to pull her IV out. I'm exhausted and have to think of creative ways to distract her from this new, dangerous toy she's discovered. Nothing works. I beg the nurses to let us go home...of course I know they can't...she has to be seen by the Doctors...so, I wait and thank God that my phone has enough Internet access to get YouTube. I pull up an episode of <em>In The Night Garden</em> (which also happens to be the theme to her birthday party) as I glance at the 'No Mobile Phones Allowed' sign. Eventually, she tires and sleeps. So do I. The Doctors come in 2 hours. <em>Hurry the f*&% up</em>, I think to myself. Barry phones and wakes us up. Everything is ready for the party. The Doctors come. They want to watch her more. I tell them about her party...its her birthday...she hasn't thrown up since 3am...let her go home. She's keeping fluid down...let her go home. They want to watch her. They come back in 2 hours. She can go home. We arrive home at 1:50pm. Did I mention her party started at 2pm? Did I also mention I have been awake all night and neither Isla nor I have bathed and we're clattered in puke? I use those ten minutes to do a quick wash and try and make us both presentable. The guests arrive...the party goes on. Isla goes to bed. The guests go home. I crash. I wake. Barry and I order chinese. We go to sleep.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The birthday girl at her first birthday party.</td></tr>
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<strong><u>Day 3:</u></strong> It's 3am. I wake up. <em>F&^$</em>, I think. I have to puke. I beeline to the toilet. Hello again, chicken and black bean and boiled rice and spring roll. I'll never be eating you again. I've got the bug. I crawl back to bed. It's 9am. I waken just enough to hear Barry heaving down the toilet. He's got the bug. Isla is better. WTF are we going to do? We're both incapable of watching a child now! The house could have burned down and we would have been completely incapable of escaping with the shape we were both in at the time. I text my friend and ask her to watch Isla. She agrees and comes to get her. Thank God! I go back to bed...Barry goes to floor. Bathroom floor to be exact where he spends the next hour. After a few hours, I decide to take a bath. I haven't had one since Friday. I'm rotten. There's not enough hot water for a bath. I don't care. I sit in a tub of cold water because I can't move. I get out...back to bed. <em>I'd rather go through childbirth again then have this evil bug again</em>, I think to myself. Instantly, I slap myself across the face. I must be delirious. Anyone that knows me knows how I feel about childbirth. NEVER AGAIN (without getting drugs sooner than I did before anyway). It's been six hours and Isla has to come home now. We still can't take care of her. I text another friend to come to the house to watch her. She does. Hallelujah! She arrives just in time to be serenaded by the gentle sound of me dry-heaving in the bathroom. She entertains Isla while I remain in the bathroom for the next two hours. I have no clue where Barry is...he could be in bed...no idea. We're still not better when it's time for Isla to go to sleep. I tell my friend I'll give her anything she wants to spend the night and take care of Isla. She agrees. Isla begins puking again. "F*&^ sake!" Barry and I shout. Not again. Thankfully, it's just the once. She sleeps. We sleep.<br />
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<strong><u>Day 4:</u></strong> We awaken feeling better. Not great, but better. We get the news that several people that were at Isla's birthday party are sick. They've got the bug. What can I say? We know how to throw a party...we give away the best party favors, too! We hope Isla will be able to have her first piece of cake today leftover from her party and possibly even open her presents, but we're still not well enough. We'll have to put it off. I have to pull it together though. I have to teach Zumba tonight! Feel better, feel better, feel better. It's time to change for Zumba. Barry and I are upstairs in the bedroom. I'm getting dressed. I feel better. I think I can teach. Barry makes a comment to me as I'm getting dressed that makes me realize that me having this stomach bug was all worth the trouble. What was it? He said: "You're looking rather toned now after being sick all day yesterday." Thanks, babe...although now as I type this in Day 6...I'm sure the toned look has left me since I've began eating again. Must go now. I have a Cadbury Double Chocolate Mini Roll waiting for me and an order of chicken and black bean coming from the Chinese takeaway.LesleyRHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17295150424965085567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238321208492720330.post-47110345006558197912013-02-03T16:43:00.004-08:002013-02-03T16:43:54.555-08:00I hate the park...says Isla. Ladies and gentlemen, meet the only child EVER to dislike the park:<br />
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She's so not impressed here. </div>
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Barry and I tried to show her the park was meant to be fun as evident in these photos:<br />
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Even after we demonstrated what fun the park was...she still was not impressed. You could almost see her saying to herself, "my parents are sooooo embarrassing!" Well, we were the only adults playing on the park equipment.<br />
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When was she impressed and happy? Once we got home and inside. My kinda gal. LesleyRHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17295150424965085567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238321208492720330.post-83176802716278762352013-01-02T16:22:00.001-08:002013-01-02T16:22:56.812-08:00Referring to Isla, of course<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Isla's first Christmas has come and gone and we spent in at home in West Virginia. During our trip, my mom took Isla to her office to show her off. While she was giving Isla the grand tour, Barry and I, bored, sat in her office. While sitting there, I saw mom's camera on her desk so I picked it up and started flicking through the pictures. What happens next is just weird.<br />
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As I was flicking, one of mom's co-workers comes over. A guy. I don't know his name or anything. He's an older gentleman. He says to Barry, "You sure do have a pretty little woman there." Referring, of course, to Isla. Barry says, "Oh, well thanks." You know, as you would respond normally in those situations. The guy keeps going on and on about how cute she is. He's not really talking to me, but I'm there nodding and laughing and being polite all the same as I flick through these pictures. Since I'm only half listening and half flicking, I try to formulate some conversation to work into Barry and this man's conversation as not to appear rude and I've developed it in my mind, however this is where things go wrong. What I've formulated in my mind, doesn't quite match up with what comes out of my mouth. What I've come up with...in my head...was: "If we could only teach her to cook, she would be perfect." Referring, of course, to Isla. However, what I ACTUALLY said was, "I don't cook." Then I proceeded to giggle. Like a raving lunatic. The guy got a very strange look on his face and just stopped smiling and walked away. Immediately, I knew what I had said and how it appeared. Barry's jaw dropped and looked at me. He uttered the words, "uh, what?" I had no response. I just shrugged my shoulders and said, "I don't know." Then, I just kept flicking through the pictures. <br />
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So, basically. Mom's co-worker...whoever he may be, now thinks that I think he was complimenting me instead of Isla. That he was complimenting Barry on having a such a cute little woman and that he meant me! Of course, I knew he wasn't complimenting me...but my idiotic mouth jumbled my words so terribly, that I now appear to be conceited. But, not only conceited but an idiot lol. So, the moral of the story...well, it could be a mixture a few things: always pay attention...or don't have children. Having children, of course, makes you lose your mind. At least, that's my story and I'm sticking to it. Oh, and Barry does have a cute little woman and yes I mean me this time.LesleyRHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17295150424965085567noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238321208492720330.post-83558219602518326782012-12-20T13:43:00.003-08:002012-12-20T13:43:31.092-08:00Merriest Happiest Christmas<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Merry Christmas from me, Barry and Isla to all my bloggy friends, Facebook friends, in-person friends and in-person family and my Zumba pals!</span></td></tr>
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LesleyRHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17295150424965085567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238321208492720330.post-69051583248116195212012-12-06T16:43:00.001-08:002012-12-06T16:43:47.324-08:00Bang tidy facts<strong>Fact (said Dwight Schrute style. If you don't know who Dwight Schrute is and how he says "Fact," then the rest of this post will be odd to you.):</strong> Isla has 4 teeth and she grinds them together constantly. <br />
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<strong>Fact:</strong> This tiny little noise by this tiny little person and these tiny little teeth is driving two big people verrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrry crazy. <br />
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<strong>Fact:</strong> I'm considering chopping my ears off if it continues.<br />
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<strong>Fact:</strong> Isla is crawling now and I'm certain she will think her name is "No," not Isla. Why is it babies always crawl towards things that will kill them (like outlets, Christmas lights and extension leads) and not towards safe things like their toys? When she's crawling, she moves like the old people did on our Alaskan cruise honeymoon when the buffet opened (in case you're wondering...it's pretty fast...but they only moved fast when there was a buffet involved...any other time it was a scene from <em>The Walking Dead</em>)!<br />
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<strong>Fact:</strong> We are heading to West Virginia for Isla's first Christmas, so we celebrated our wee family Christmas last weekend. Santa even came early. He's a clever, fat man to know to come early, but he did. And, Isla's very first Christmas pressie from Santa:<br />
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Now, she didn't play with this too long. You see, I got a new robe from Santa, too. So, the ribbon that was tied around my new robe proved to be THE BEST THING EVER in her eyes and therefore became her toy of choice. <br />
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Here she is on one of her many adventures to the Christmas tree which she isn't allowed to play with, however, she was so enamored by the ornament in this photo, I hadn't the heart to yank her away from it:<br />
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<strong>Fact:</strong> Cats love Santa hats.<br />
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<strong>Fact:</strong> Now that I can understand the Keith Lemon accent...I can't get enough of <em>Celebrity Juice</em>. LOVE IT! Now, that's bang tidy!<br />
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LesleyRHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17295150424965085567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238321208492720330.post-64566943267656831742012-11-28T17:25:00.000-08:002012-11-28T17:25:15.001-08:00Is it savoury?Well, Happy Thanksgiving everyone! Yes, I know I'm a week late, but I have a baby...who is teething...and refusing to sleep, so my blogging takes a back burner at times. Anyway, I celebrated my 2nd Thanksgiving in Derry and Isla's first Thanksgiving EVER. Last year, Barry and I didn't have Thanksgiving dinner, instead opting to eat spaghetti because I was working on Thanksgiving. But this year, we decided to just do it. Barry cooked a lovely Thanksgiving dinner and I ate it...and Isla ate it and Barry's mom and dad ate it. <br />
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Preparing for Thanksgiving dinner here, however, proved challenging! Specifically, trying to find pumpkin! I wanted pumpkin pie and even got my mom to send me her very special, secret recipe for pumpkin pie that I was never getting EVEN over her dead body, but I got it! However it was not to be! Barry and I searched high and low across the town for canned pumpkin...or fresh pumpkin...any pumpkin would have done, however it did not come to pass. No where had it. In fact, most people looked at us as if we had four heads when we asked for it and it was usually followed by the question: "So, pumpkin pie? Is it savoury? What is it?" After I explained what it was, the facial expressions didn't change much...they still looked repulsed lol. You just have to try it! You'll like it citizens of Derry, I promise!!!<br />
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The "Is it savoury?" question was usually quickly followed by..."So, what is Thanksgiving anyway?" And my response was..."well, you know...just give thanks and all that...and the harvest..." Well, that was the best I could quickly get out and I know that sounds really dumb...I do! NOW, before you say ANYTHING...yes, I do know what Thanksgiving is! And, I could probably get out a very smart-sounding answer, but just taking the time to dive into my brain that deep to explain Thanksgiving just didn't appeal to me as I was searching for my sacred pumpkin. Especially since Barry likes to turn it around and say, "Those poor Indians...didn't know what was coming...eating Thanksgiving dinner with you people before you stripped them of their land." Come on! Like I was there to<em> personally</em> do that!<br />
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After my lackluster Thanksgiving explanation, I was usually met with another question..."Now, Black Friday...is that part of Thanksgiving?" Now, this I can explain! And, I did...like this: "Oh, no not really...you see. Black Friday is the day after Thanksgiving and it kind of marks the start of the Christmas season because all the shops are open really early with these great sales...like you can get laptops and stuff for like $99. It's great! Once I was at Target and these two women just got into this massive fight over a jacket that was marked down from $100 to $5. Stores sometimes even open late Thanksgiving evening for the Black Friday deals. It's called Black Friday because that's the day the stores come out of the red and into the black...meaning they turn a profit." And then, I take a deep breath. I do realize my explanation of Black Friday and the depth of my explanation of Black Friday compared to that of my explanation of Thanksgiving is sinful and it makes me and my people and my country look like idiots! I do...and I have no defense except to say...I love a deal and I hate being fat. Black Friday gives me deals...Thanksgiving makes me fat. <br />
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Enjoy our Derry Thanksgiving pictures 2012:<br />
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Here's my little turkey in the depths of her first turkey coma. She slept three hours after eating turkey. If I had known she would succumb to turkey...I would have been putting it in her bottle all along!<br />
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Our dinner:<br />
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I didn't get to do any Black Friday shopping, however, I did do a little Black Friday Karoake...and...I was brillant. Take a look...never mind the weirdo beside me...she's just a stalker. I was in the throes of Rush Rush by Paula Abdul here:<br />
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And, the Sunday following Thanksgiving. Barry and I took our little turkey to get her very first picture taken with Santa Clause. Look at the shape of that...who's worse...Isla or Santa?<br />
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LesleyRHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17295150424965085567noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238321208492720330.post-82228522519244176772012-11-17T18:11:00.000-08:002012-11-17T18:11:17.587-08:00Pyjamas or Pajamas?This past Friday, as part of BBC's charity, Children in Need, I hosted a Zumba Fitness party where people got sponsored to come to a Zumba class in their PJ's. Now, here it is spelled, Pyjamas. In America, it is spelled, Pajamas. So, I've struggled on my daily Facebook posts on how exactly to spell it, instead settling for the universal and much more mature term: jammies. <br />
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So, anyway, basically I got a bunch of people, including myself and my baby daughter (Barry refused) to go out in public wearing their snuggly jammies all for charity. And, they so did...more than 50 men, women and children gave up their Friday night for charity. Not only did we go out in public in our jammies, but we did an hours worth of Zumba in them, too. Here's the evidence:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgjnxCfF6yHn0EEAiLAjgrz5SIN2mX9G5cAcr7dXlRvrBQcUnELYRPWkT5FUn6DKvnpiDQhxtdp7x9aJ_iAeJgUQpltjG7Mbd6vvIBGgq4wH-ZSVDFpiox9GVnCXuWo4Ik6JzwJ4C44Ihw/s1600/486160_4954414624672_937389707_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgjnxCfF6yHn0EEAiLAjgrz5SIN2mX9G5cAcr7dXlRvrBQcUnELYRPWkT5FUn6DKvnpiDQhxtdp7x9aJ_iAeJgUQpltjG7Mbd6vvIBGgq4wH-ZSVDFpiox9GVnCXuWo4Ik6JzwJ4C44Ihw/s320/486160_4954414624672_937389707_n.jpg" width="210" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and Isla</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Barry and Isla. Notice Barry's non-jammie get-up</td></tr>
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<span id="goog_1966032189"></span><span id="goog_1966032190"></span><br />LesleyRHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17295150424965085567noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238321208492720330.post-36680184859352091552012-11-06T18:08:00.003-08:002012-11-06T18:11:51.992-08:00Cupcake?Isla hosted her first Halloween shin-dig this past Halloween by throwing what was to be a pumpkin-decorating party. However, Tesco decided to not order enough pumpkins this year, so they ran out. Perhaps we shouldn't have waited until October 30th to go shopping for pumpkins, but we did. So, what was to be a pumpkin-decorating party turned in to a cupcake-decorating and scary mask- decorating party.<br />
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Let me give you a little math problem. One house + 9 children between the ages of 8 months and 12 years old=Lesley with very high blood pressure at the mess made by 9 children and cupcake and mask making supplies. <br />
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Anyway, it turned out to be a fun little afternoon where, yes, several messes were made, but, more importantly a bunch of little kiddos (technically it was Minnie Mouse, a Ninja, an Angel, a Police Officer, Snow White, Tigger and a few other kiddos) got to walk away with a teeny smile on their face mixed in with a little cupcake frosting...but, not to worry...the smiles and frosting were hid by their masks:)<br />
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Enjoy the picture story of this afternoon:<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The before pic</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Working on the cupcakes</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvchOi8DAs-9pYq8Hk3CqGq2ZYwlBhwuwcSzrPQMkVBZZgXNuta8KImGz0PGUXmT2vgCKayaOBA2lqIE90FOfRYKw7kqRzN04W5KB9DWBdmt7B8gh3uK1lcFCWN3wNBhrhnPuwl3xS1TUd/s1600/285735_4859946783035_1582791442_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvchOi8DAs-9pYq8Hk3CqGq2ZYwlBhwuwcSzrPQMkVBZZgXNuta8KImGz0PGUXmT2vgCKayaOBA2lqIE90FOfRYKw7kqRzN04W5KB9DWBdmt7B8gh3uK1lcFCWN3wNBhrhnPuwl3xS1TUd/s320/285735_4859946783035_1582791442_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A little mask decorating</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTzcynuDyUIhIQTN_07H5V_EYWXoCkkiQMVJxyKNt1krX0x6e1b0CFhEpjCWTmpB0a2Pp9ZnyqWMylbhqcUuyTgLXpUOCPVRHohZWc69dHcvriVLBuAh2hkw-2pv_KuFOqpESRuxrTQ1zj/s1600/302700_4859906902038_1888710344_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTzcynuDyUIhIQTN_07H5V_EYWXoCkkiQMVJxyKNt1krX0x6e1b0CFhEpjCWTmpB0a2Pp9ZnyqWMylbhqcUuyTgLXpUOCPVRHohZWc69dHcvriVLBuAh2hkw-2pv_KuFOqpESRuxrTQ1zj/s320/302700_4859906902038_1888710344_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More mask decorating</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baby Tigger</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcGGfeYEv_0vS2kaOE32j61JF0sCv0yQMUp093kC5Xa3DKY98sWxFlJvLg1-Ih_R6nrj52FrOmkeJWQB501_fmy1S8vNyYkR-KONsU2Qiulh572JusNtNu_WicRH9BE6JXdL7SYzSWSAzJ/s1600/603887_4859921742409_1977669222_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcGGfeYEv_0vS2kaOE32j61JF0sCv0yQMUp093kC5Xa3DKY98sWxFlJvLg1-Ih_R6nrj52FrOmkeJWQB501_fmy1S8vNyYkR-KONsU2Qiulh572JusNtNu_WicRH9BE6JXdL7SYzSWSAzJ/s320/603887_4859921742409_1977669222_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cupcake anyone?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxc5tzsuIq8IoS32GR2qhI2tZj1AMcIldq6RzTeKBR0owRofExcI-Us38qQkU9F0yQu8S7X_94VBVHFOy0cDSiaM7KxS7r_L2QSqAZZYpcywVXzaC-5FdwOhOLsurLwWx888LCHiO2AXux/s1600/18620_4859953103193_1357482068_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxc5tzsuIq8IoS32GR2qhI2tZj1AMcIldq6RzTeKBR0owRofExcI-Us38qQkU9F0yQu8S7X_94VBVHFOy0cDSiaM7KxS7r_L2QSqAZZYpcywVXzaC-5FdwOhOLsurLwWx888LCHiO2AXux/s320/18620_4859953103193_1357482068_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The after shots. This blanket was thrown out. There was more glitter, glue and sequins on it than on Liberace's finest cape.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP4h2b22IIKxhOrzRvKKpkqvcyKpAh1GXWG1NIZMYs2FDzenWeweM7WKBbRpRozsXvJwKhJUu0qJNO9qV1UaWjFLW7EzwDZlwlzgMOf6ev3HC9Ljei5a3drSZAQYDgjUd31eUe7wsD4iZu/s1600/22522_4859952223171_741865689_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP4h2b22IIKxhOrzRvKKpkqvcyKpAh1GXWG1NIZMYs2FDzenWeweM7WKBbRpRozsXvJwKhJUu0qJNO9qV1UaWjFLW7EzwDZlwlzgMOf6ev3HC9Ljei5a3drSZAQYDgjUd31eUe7wsD4iZu/s320/22522_4859952223171_741865689_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Icing...destroyed.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTmVhyrI0HyZALACrxaz5CBjnUOUa3wfiuy2xEc3QVQm6Ahpe9itrXyBqr3zXP10ph2ykrW_Vnf12DpqzUUq80ULJsXm3ajdxJ5CymYwf_EVZMIlkK09h2D1deavfqknLn3mTJ_BCv3sjW/s1600/156443_4859951263147_923111704_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTmVhyrI0HyZALACrxaz5CBjnUOUa3wfiuy2xEc3QVQm6Ahpe9itrXyBqr3zXP10ph2ykrW_Vnf12DpqzUUq80ULJsXm3ajdxJ5CymYwf_EVZMIlkK09h2D1deavfqknLn3mTJ_BCv3sjW/s320/156443_4859951263147_923111704_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After pic</td></tr>
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Now, finish the joke: So, an angel and Minnie Mouse walk into a bar...<br />
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<br />LesleyRHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17295150424965085567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238321208492720330.post-83329488959417039102012-10-30T18:24:00.000-07:002012-10-30T18:24:20.165-07:00The New York Stock Exchange or Taco Bell?Last weekend, Barry, Isla and I, went to Liverpool and Manchester, England for a break. It was my first trip to England and the fact that Manchester has a Taco Bell...well, that only made me want to go there more!<br />
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We arrived in Liverpool on Thursday morning and from the minute we arrived we didn't stop. I'm one that likes to see everything...especially if it is somewhere I've never been before. And, we saw just about everything you could see in 4 days: Both cathedrals in Liverpool, where the Beatles got their start (Matthew Street, the Cavern Club, etc.), Albert Dock, Liverpool One, Lime Street Station, the World Museum, the Liverpool Museum, and one of my favorites was the Tate Gallery.<br />
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The Tate Gallery had an especially exciting exhibit for me to see: The Monet, Twombly and Turner exhibit. Monet is my favorite artist and getting to see the famous Water Lilies paintings among the others was just amazing. Seeing the paint on the canvas, you can just picture him standing there in front of it putting the paint on it. It really is cool. At least for me!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdWL9SCx1CsA4TA14tihf_TtgL0vcjCircraRD6IUo2QRJ1rHiHr08OTkPwgPRjsCpi-0TX4XE4xHy8gy6cBAT-p9Ja_IqIj45Anc4Geig15_1oQ0yygjn-Qcqan9YphwPnQwANE1GR2A3/s1600/monet-parliament.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdWL9SCx1CsA4TA14tihf_TtgL0vcjCircraRD6IUo2QRJ1rHiHr08OTkPwgPRjsCpi-0TX4XE4xHy8gy6cBAT-p9Ja_IqIj45Anc4Geig15_1oQ0yygjn-Qcqan9YphwPnQwANE1GR2A3/s320/monet-parliament.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Monet's House of Parliament</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrzurTg8kxZDuwbMvhMEjWOzXmfVpA96sVzu4G7iOowwAuejRU0cRHhuxV8xOOjSYFpuZizPuB-1fb4KiMSVvxFUybbMuIovTwrlAycG4TZFk61Wtg_tAw6kvRmhJN-iizM74FTElf8DKi/s1600/Monet_Water_Lilies_1916.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrzurTg8kxZDuwbMvhMEjWOzXmfVpA96sVzu4G7iOowwAuejRU0cRHhuxV8xOOjSYFpuZizPuB-1fb4KiMSVvxFUybbMuIovTwrlAycG4TZFk61Wtg_tAw6kvRmhJN-iizM74FTElf8DKi/s320/Monet_Water_Lilies_1916.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Monet's Water Lilies.<br />
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We ran in to a few interesting people in our hotel. Here's one story:<br />
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<em>Two women were waiting with us on the fifth floor to catch the elevator down to the Lobby. One woman pushes the up button so "the elevator would know to come up for us." I nearly had to clean my ears out when I heard it because I thought surely no one is that stupid.</em> <br />
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And, here's another story: <br />
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<em>Barry and I are on the elevator going down to the Lobby. We stop on the 3rd floor and a man and a woman get on. The woman gets on and turns to the left and faces the side wall of the elevator...nearly with her nose pushed up on the wall! Barry and I just stood there in astonishment wondering what the hell she was doing. But, her male companion was no better. He stood by the elevator door and then wrapped his arms around his body, as if he was in a straight jacket, almost as if he was trying to keep the elevator doors from chopping his arms off even though he was miles away from the door. We couldn't help but wonder was it perhaps their first time on an elevator?</em> <br />
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All this elevator talk brings me back to a major pet peeve of mine since having a baby. Why do people with perfectly good, working legs get on elevators when there are functioning escalators INCHES from the elevators! They don't have prams...there are no walkers, wheelchairs or canes in sight, yet their legs apparently don't work so they have to litter the elevator with their lazy asses while people who can't use the escalators (us), because we have a pram, are forced to wait through five or more cycles of up and down elevator stops before getting an elevator with enough room for us! It fries my brain!<br />
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We were at the World Museum in Liverpool and we were on the 2nd floor looking to go up to the 4th floor. Both elevators in this Museum were non-stop busy but there were stairs there, too. So after waiting on several elevators, each being filled to capacity (mostly with people without prams, wheelchairs, etc.), the elevator finally arrives and a woman with a pram gets off on our floor. Score! There is finally room for us on the elevator. However, once the woman gets off, a man still on the elevator (with two working legs and no pram, wheelchair, etc.) has the audacity to push the doors close button before we have a chance to get on! Barry, with his cat-like reflexes, pushes the up button again and the doors pop open and he rams the pram on the elevator. My jaw dropped when the man was going up only one level. He couldn't have even gotten off the elevator to walk up ONE flight of stairs to allow us with a pram on the elevator. I realize sometimes you don't pay attention to things like that until you have to use an elevator all the time because you can't go on escalators, stairs, etc. But, COME ON, a little common courtesy should come in to play here.<br />
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So, with that little bitchfest over, enjoy some Liverpool photos. We actually did have a good time even though all I've done is complain so far in the blog post lol.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyTlpLvhF8ofhvDdJNoqVKGg3vhoQw96FsJfDF54m4E2rvXRlRhT5ZsfSh51dwzbgiemg9PnycZCOqxFK1qxZbGVkpCmY3LU8WPageYC9hdj7AJxI7dEZBwv6zjikMCN2cFFATW6tMTaVn/s1600/23884_4851957463307_479504377_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyTlpLvhF8ofhvDdJNoqVKGg3vhoQw96FsJfDF54m4E2rvXRlRhT5ZsfSh51dwzbgiemg9PnycZCOqxFK1qxZbGVkpCmY3LU8WPageYC9hdj7AJxI7dEZBwv6zjikMCN2cFFATW6tMTaVn/s320/23884_4851957463307_479504377_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chinatown arch</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8JQ5ILR-V7qrcDsY1MgmBDVKQL8r4S6K3mXdSqqri6V4kp9msrfPPpG_mOK7JPBVv5dj9GEgRR3welzLthlC8IZZK6hOWIxNCgCZAZiSltAMz1L33T5iUtHx4LdEvDuSLy8LxqVarfTL-/s1600/47377_4851906422031_754562459_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8JQ5ILR-V7qrcDsY1MgmBDVKQL8r4S6K3mXdSqqri6V4kp9msrfPPpG_mOK7JPBVv5dj9GEgRR3welzLthlC8IZZK6hOWIxNCgCZAZiSltAMz1L33T5iUtHx4LdEvDuSLy8LxqVarfTL-/s320/47377_4851906422031_754562459_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcwJ5VMUKohlq8x2-jQcOk5OEVslcXEfDVxzYvtDQ9qD_6DBSQrYlZR1FV77kcvgYkKoDwg_TJx0bnYNwoWTn-raNueYkE-1SKKH3qr3DzT3LL3eQqQ8nNSHrWnE4pKPpzfmI0OgXaFDP3/s1600/196053_4851952383180_997030406_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcwJ5VMUKohlq8x2-jQcOk5OEVslcXEfDVxzYvtDQ9qD_6DBSQrYlZR1FV77kcvgYkKoDwg_TJx0bnYNwoWTn-raNueYkE-1SKKH3qr3DzT3LL3eQqQ8nNSHrWnE4pKPpzfmI0OgXaFDP3/s320/196053_4851952383180_997030406_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Liver Building</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxVTruz8ab4xlSr5KqHmD1vBull_ovCQeT_rn2sp091grQCozQamVLobytAA0Ky7_a2-bC3wS1uspbsg1Gm6TMwaNs0tnsnctVa-rda0hfB_SrbCTfGTJxYae4XVN0PBPphgIuZVp_s8Nk/s1600/384366_4851927782565_29755191_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxVTruz8ab4xlSr5KqHmD1vBull_ovCQeT_rn2sp091grQCozQamVLobytAA0Ky7_a2-bC3wS1uspbsg1Gm6TMwaNs0tnsnctVa-rda0hfB_SrbCTfGTJxYae4XVN0PBPphgIuZVp_s8Nk/s320/384366_4851927782565_29755191_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from Albert Dock</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivkE1FgzwBW-tRM0_A797jusS6AP01MEMOdY7_Pu3ErNLqUGTZKq7dltJJj2zpZ4ySjlek-3RHczVscnwn4HlIJCNfu4Dvh05uog4PEehQeQk6em4H65xjij_Njd9y4HomXsBnswSwOgU_/s1600/404705_4851959583360_2013807877_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivkE1FgzwBW-tRM0_A797jusS6AP01MEMOdY7_Pu3ErNLqUGTZKq7dltJJj2zpZ4ySjlek-3RHczVscnwn4HlIJCNfu4Dvh05uog4PEehQeQk6em4H65xjij_Njd9y4HomXsBnswSwOgU_/s320/404705_4851959583360_2013807877_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cathedral</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5MGxr0kYdM2IOPZW1Z1zs6MkbRq9UkZdIwDn_vT0Mmbp2Ya6wCzyYhCIWNpA-lE_OI93vniMjnEixyilbcaBn91hWMSffI8HNz43sDC9b8Djn97pVIB0L_nmdjfqM0bnlcwTw-CzKixfp/s1600/416904_4851924022471_1491085954_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5MGxr0kYdM2IOPZW1Z1zs6MkbRq9UkZdIwDn_vT0Mmbp2Ya6wCzyYhCIWNpA-lE_OI93vniMjnEixyilbcaBn91hWMSffI8HNz43sDC9b8Djn97pVIB0L_nmdjfqM0bnlcwTw-CzKixfp/s320/416904_4851924022471_1491085954_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At Albert Dock</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_P1gz6F2Gt7YmajtTD-ogFn_ABI6lD8m7B8cd2fXSzRKnLfF1xaznDE-PQskg3XOmRONImA1XnRp3B1mXDr9ZxI9uTkJFeF4MzwulIvj_6ciaziMzH2d0pPSuKDwB1K8cIC13TfytEIT2/s1600/523062_4851877821316_1053898125_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_P1gz6F2Gt7YmajtTD-ogFn_ABI6lD8m7B8cd2fXSzRKnLfF1xaznDE-PQskg3XOmRONImA1XnRp3B1mXDr9ZxI9uTkJFeF4MzwulIvj_6ciaziMzH2d0pPSuKDwB1K8cIC13TfytEIT2/s320/523062_4851877821316_1053898125_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cathedral...or spaceship?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFAD68-9Xjmyab-akxxVGbQdFZwS4p_7vHcgwFPi_yoZo4QkM1X5dG64MEGsdVnx78Zku0ryG9VxS4PfozrqjlRqIRAgUpfxqy2YJfW563VmF67YJZPHrIeE6GleEYY8_0kdgXtHlp13kh/s1600/527341_4851955543259_86299106_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFAD68-9Xjmyab-akxxVGbQdFZwS4p_7vHcgwFPi_yoZo4QkM1X5dG64MEGsdVnx78Zku0ryG9VxS4PfozrqjlRqIRAgUpfxqy2YJfW563VmF67YJZPHrIeE6GleEYY8_0kdgXtHlp13kh/s320/527341_4851955543259_86299106_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Outside the Cavern Club...where The Beatles got their start</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzA7aPKBZAYPsMs7fWKunuKg3Sl3YK4bRZ4VfLnBn3l219rz90EzGPOEHGa9z6g_peG1q2Hi4wE5uAB_9CwtRnlqb2p_WdHhO_KrBTx_ZCGLQpHzZL6tZPZpExiYro2FuGNqPR5vstCqOw/s1600/530901_4851886741539_2095832588_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzA7aPKBZAYPsMs7fWKunuKg3Sl3YK4bRZ4VfLnBn3l219rz90EzGPOEHGa9z6g_peG1q2Hi4wE5uAB_9CwtRnlqb2p_WdHhO_KrBTx_ZCGLQpHzZL6tZPZpExiYro2FuGNqPR5vstCqOw/s320/530901_4851886741539_2095832588_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from our hotel</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimAQrqDgxmYWYkyg9P60gu_u5b8lXBSzxp1PsZK6iBIKxgtEIJFzoHqe_InINAA-hSXJei1EDyB9NAaZg2BR2aA5qCEKA1jHVx8lZZvkeax3Awvj7v-e-ccAD22e82kvj9w23sDSXqxzmq/s1600/544766_4851864460982_1417348094_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimAQrqDgxmYWYkyg9P60gu_u5b8lXBSzxp1PsZK6iBIKxgtEIJFzoHqe_InINAA-hSXJei1EDyB9NAaZg2BR2aA5qCEKA1jHVx8lZZvkeax3Awvj7v-e-ccAD22e82kvj9w23sDSXqxzmq/s320/544766_4851864460982_1417348094_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtgLM4IMOFs176QEEQoColwUrqJpEJ34SY4-eoOj2hTEL_cH5tGD1v3et-Gw8QO5CNxKXVdNR6RzUFkWi_Up-KsMdDO_y-yq1iKIIYTOFedNS0mOYNjMzXmjLLdjmrhqSbRIRLp7se1ZYb/s1600/545409_4851898621836_1001722461_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtgLM4IMOFs176QEEQoColwUrqJpEJ34SY4-eoOj2hTEL_cH5tGD1v3et-Gw8QO5CNxKXVdNR6RzUFkWi_Up-KsMdDO_y-yq1iKIIYTOFedNS0mOYNjMzXmjLLdjmrhqSbRIRLp7se1ZYb/s320/545409_4851898621836_1001722461_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYSMUynNwnT5YlO2pFejbY8_i5wlCiXcDUlmmru97sgifFXfMZQ6XA64yeBfHg-fLHXUsICwpfrfYguAjyDNPiuaLH2FmAupiAB6HgBJUlUCmPZB25TdRLHBCg6TdbDFx6i5WfB7lFccUr/s1600/552396_4851949423106_1465536776_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYSMUynNwnT5YlO2pFejbY8_i5wlCiXcDUlmmru97sgifFXfMZQ6XA64yeBfHg-fLHXUsICwpfrfYguAjyDNPiuaLH2FmAupiAB6HgBJUlUCmPZB25TdRLHBCg6TdbDFx6i5WfB7lFccUr/s320/552396_4851949423106_1465536776_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA3xC-hf_ApHSXYOpgbtatWwD5yNf4tVLCySFCzf1S614mSO-CUDgoiYfMh7biTPCYvdK1_NHUhlgou24F5D3Ux0kO0sl1hmvk8-cfHLzcobt5nodznIw-DT_U0BZtT5DfC-ocv8bJ5MRI/s1600/561911_4851888581585_2032284211_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA3xC-hf_ApHSXYOpgbtatWwD5yNf4tVLCySFCzf1S614mSO-CUDgoiYfMh7biTPCYvdK1_NHUhlgou24F5D3Ux0kO0sl1hmvk8-cfHLzcobt5nodznIw-DT_U0BZtT5DfC-ocv8bJ5MRI/s320/561911_4851888581585_2032284211_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTmQ6BUPUb82j6XdYHQhi-qTPV0Llf-1DulCjYgNBKka4x_7yAcbYT3DegkPa004vRB02HGELqRWU0EjYX0dZkyjMcq6zDbxplTCw-qLlWliaAnJBy70DKDyp-zF7lpyYbGTLw6JFKckVW/s1600/602444_4851951063147_1006259833_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTmQ6BUPUb82j6XdYHQhi-qTPV0Llf-1DulCjYgNBKka4x_7yAcbYT3DegkPa004vRB02HGELqRWU0EjYX0dZkyjMcq6zDbxplTCw-qLlWliaAnJBy70DKDyp-zF7lpyYbGTLw6JFKckVW/s320/602444_4851951063147_1006259833_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Barry kept saying,"Look at the helicopter." Lol...it was a crane.</td></tr>
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On Saturday, we took the train in to Manchester where we went to the Arndale Center and Taco Bell. And, the cathedral and John Rylands Library...but, did I mention we went to Taco Bell?<br />
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So, we arrive at the Arndale Center Food Court where I'm greeted by my trust friend, Taco Bell. I'm astonished first of all at the sheer size of the Arndale Center. Massive. With three Starbucks under one roof...you know it is huge. The Food Court is no different and the crowds there...well, I've never seen anything like it. I go to order my Taco Bell and it is sooooo freakin' hectic, I felt like I was on the New York Stock Exchange. I was so rushed to place my order, I couldn't focus and get what I wanted. So, in a moment of panic, I just blurted out, "Crunchwrap Supreme!" Immediately, I said to myself, "What? A Crunchwrap Supreme???? What the hell!!! I would never order that!!!" But, it was too late. The cashier had processed my order and the next one in line in the chaos was placing their order. Now, I'm not stranger to crowds and I can generally keep up, but this was just shocking! Anyway, I ate the Taco Bell and it was delish.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisBpXADK2C3atNru2LydCOrgthgLp-PRY4lt5_EVkq3lNophgtcOlXcspE6PAQuG41bCcXA-h83YGY7Cs5EI7n02nz1wI-uiNXlMbTnUKFdxDf3QT7svWfxvhkUrxaifrqzpmahmCSvG64/s1600/267619_4852009864617_799320426_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisBpXADK2C3atNru2LydCOrgthgLp-PRY4lt5_EVkq3lNophgtcOlXcspE6PAQuG41bCcXA-h83YGY7Cs5EI7n02nz1wI-uiNXlMbTnUKFdxDf3QT7svWfxvhkUrxaifrqzpmahmCSvG64/s320/267619_4852009864617_799320426_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Manchester Cathedral</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6ieGJVKJM4r9bdVRNeJmG6eujxxrPjJLA7pg_EqXYkOWrVVWlBSnNN5CKbGsvrbndetzFTcLdx_MhHrF4k0AoggGtf2p544gZ9iW0Dk0I77ikyqitO8wbjQsDeBAEw4wFxCduJ4FxQfLW/s1600/416896_4852107707063_1032197553_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6ieGJVKJM4r9bdVRNeJmG6eujxxrPjJLA7pg_EqXYkOWrVVWlBSnNN5CKbGsvrbndetzFTcLdx_MhHrF4k0AoggGtf2p544gZ9iW0Dk0I77ikyqitO8wbjQsDeBAEw4wFxCduJ4FxQfLW/s320/416896_4852107707063_1032197553_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the Manchester train station</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI6RsMqAcXXwvWRw_w7pD_lMIzsQq2kxI4mflNQlURTZAQjMs2oyIGXQ_xhRZXyc8-50I1rq4fFIf4YocQ1NBbtX0hnPvqdTalmg_StQiBUQg2PefhIv_XIN9ozk3Oih_EUFq4bWtn6kMc/s1600/481048_4852089106598_2031939572_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI6RsMqAcXXwvWRw_w7pD_lMIzsQq2kxI4mflNQlURTZAQjMs2oyIGXQ_xhRZXyc8-50I1rq4fFIf4YocQ1NBbtX0hnPvqdTalmg_StQiBUQg2PefhIv_XIN9ozk3Oih_EUFq4bWtn6kMc/s320/481048_4852089106598_2031939572_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the John Rylands Library...the oldest piece of the New Testament</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilaBhTN80HrTbWTwmNk4129AhKqfwNfwGCd6svYmTxd4uJOQfzlZAT8VBya3eA9qUo9YMWtY1VOHtupAf5rOWzpHgoRdMJwBwJ35ktjvdyIl-bhdlyTiRH8qs2R7GP1LJuHSbnv3xfpscJ/s1600/562024_4852002664437_1997958699_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilaBhTN80HrTbWTwmNk4129AhKqfwNfwGCd6svYmTxd4uJOQfzlZAT8VBya3eA9qUo9YMWtY1VOHtupAf5rOWzpHgoRdMJwBwJ35ktjvdyIl-bhdlyTiRH8qs2R7GP1LJuHSbnv3xfpscJ/s320/562024_4852002664437_1997958699_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the train to Manchester.</td></tr>
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And, this is just a pretty cup of coffee:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQMhBprUIIqXcOTnzvCWgNvFlsPshwrGHv09qAiJ5rRFChtOa9jY6DEIEEQZXfZRdm1SawN4TAlGY8IDzNIywzOin-jLQ27XjqGJ_xpzDeXxRrlGBNHhOcQRSl6dTEgvFE-SuwQgm7p034/s1600/404704_4851879541359_1009201279_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQMhBprUIIqXcOTnzvCWgNvFlsPshwrGHv09qAiJ5rRFChtOa9jY6DEIEEQZXfZRdm1SawN4TAlGY8IDzNIywzOin-jLQ27XjqGJ_xpzDeXxRrlGBNHhOcQRSl6dTEgvFE-SuwQgm7p034/s320/404704_4851879541359_1009201279_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
LesleyRHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17295150424965085567noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238321208492720330.post-41291690630625921352012-10-29T17:46:00.000-07:002012-10-29T17:46:55.560-07:00Sexy Zumba lady and Happy Halloween<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"></span><br /></div>
So, today was a normal Monday, which typically ends with a Zumba class in the evening. Today was no different, except today was dress up day at Zumba. Some people dressed up and took their costumes out for a test drive before Halloween on Wednesday and others played it safe and knew it would be too hot and sweaty to dress up in costumes for an hour long Zumba class. <br />
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Barry and I cooked up a surprise for class tonight, which nearly didn't happen. Why? Well, this is how I spent my afternoon:<br />
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<em><span style="color: magenta;"><strong>Barry:</strong></span></em> Show me the steps again.<br />
<strong><em><span style="color: magenta;">Me:</span></em></strong> <em>Gangnam style starts playing</em>. I show him the steps. <em>Barry follows.</em><br />
<strong><em><span style="color: magenta;">Barry:</span></em></strong> <em>Stopping abruptly.</em> No, I can't do this. No, that's it. I can't.<br />
<strong><em><span style="color: magenta;">Me:</span></em></strong> Come on! I told people we had a surprise. This was your idea you have to do it!<br />
<strong><em><span style="color: magenta;">Barry:</span></em></strong> I don't care, I'm not doing it. I'm shitting meself.<br />
<strong><em><span style="color: magenta;">Me:</span></em></strong> Come on...its just a few seconds!<br />
<strong><em><span style="color: magenta;">Barry:</span></em></strong> No. Right, go on show me the steps again.<br />
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Anyway, some form of this conversation went on over and over again most of the afternoon. Turns out Barry did follow through with the surprise and it went over really, really well. What was the surprise? In case you haven't figured it out yet....<br />
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<span style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">HE DRESSED UP LIKE ME and did a few seconds of our warm-up song which, at the minute, is Gangnam Style.</span><br />
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Here's my handsome husband:<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6yY17Atn1668bR8nfuKJzZLNBVqnvvjnhOfMsABsNj6m8df_RdkgFewi1up-867ZpdEieBxDoABsMcr4jmnvz3jztPsdcIqEB4yFjBVVHQSffJPIt73Ijcr3jZKFOxqYbWO7CXVuCdxnp/s1600/267614_451227388250031_1769652017_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6yY17Atn1668bR8nfuKJzZLNBVqnvvjnhOfMsABsNj6m8df_RdkgFewi1up-867ZpdEieBxDoABsMcr4jmnvz3jztPsdcIqEB4yFjBVVHQSffJPIt73Ijcr3jZKFOxqYbWO7CXVuCdxnp/s320/267614_451227388250031_1769652017_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There's Barry on the left. That's a dead Mario and Luigi on the right. Dead because they crashed their go karts.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrIOvDC1vzdasoBS60lVKUoVMVU09B5qcCupAjmHaDn1aExo7LckBIgK3LvUSnvIolLfVK7ph0v3q2PXhxYPORZyDN4pQXzA2rPvOGdBlS0wmIn5ZvWed21EmgXs5nviSAW8LzipCovnE3/s1600/3722_451227488250021_221892474_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrIOvDC1vzdasoBS60lVKUoVMVU09B5qcCupAjmHaDn1aExo7LckBIgK3LvUSnvIolLfVK7ph0v3q2PXhxYPORZyDN4pQXzA2rPvOGdBlS0wmIn5ZvWed21EmgXs5nviSAW8LzipCovnE3/s320/3722_451227488250021_221892474_n.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here are some of the lovely Zumbies who sported their costumes in class tonight.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9_fwnzl_ARaCZZIHFHjfn9zry2xNcKmgG9yR7ez4XXYbLUqM_VrpoN33pufcNNwDUuf3uB-WzZ3XUtVugXO5eq13KnJM7R40uMgf6cXs-E3t3QYm_6F8ogQ2adkpn_XxTR1mX3O5v5NZg/s1600/46565_4847861720916_1356728439_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9_fwnzl_ARaCZZIHFHjfn9zry2xNcKmgG9yR7ez4XXYbLUqM_VrpoN33pufcNNwDUuf3uB-WzZ3XUtVugXO5eq13KnJM7R40uMgf6cXs-E3t3QYm_6F8ogQ2adkpn_XxTR1mX3O5v5NZg/s320/46565_4847861720916_1356728439_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aww...there's the Zumba baby in her first Halloween costume before class. Scary witch!<br />
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<span style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">And now...the grand finale...the VIDEO of Barry's Gangnam Style warm-up:</span><br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/QpycDQaHIm8" width="560"></iframe><br />LesleyRHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17295150424965085567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238321208492720330.post-1020147137966311812012-10-21T09:37:00.003-07:002012-10-21T09:37:47.047-07:00The great pumpkin carve Isla's first Halloween is just around the corner, so we thought we'd get a few pumpkins and do some carving. We were going to let Isla carve her own, but after she nearly chopped her hand off with the carving knife, we decided to do it for her. Yes, I'm joking. You don't think I'd give an 8 month old a knife do you? Especially after the disaster she caused with the chainsaw we gave her to play with. We're not idiots, after all.<br />
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Anyway, here is a little pictorial of our pumpkin carving day:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNICi-fy6qKP4xIHDXfMrNOkpOtCDI7n2MWDH8fPnuluWnXsUPeqQ5-VFMjR0nQUXSH5Q3ntfEuwO7ekZBigJoBkIpm4i9D6tcpjTWp0JCxmang9_Ty_Y0TK2trunyHcYUPIOGucJ63Gkf/s1600/76283_4793758168361_123361112_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNICi-fy6qKP4xIHDXfMrNOkpOtCDI7n2MWDH8fPnuluWnXsUPeqQ5-VFMjR0nQUXSH5Q3ntfEuwO7ekZBigJoBkIpm4i9D6tcpjTWp0JCxmang9_Ty_Y0TK2trunyHcYUPIOGucJ63Gkf/s320/76283_4793758168361_123361112_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhobVdDogTzA09K6aZdNtpVZK80JBAJ6A2yV43z4y6jGpITUwFYJZyHMeTiHy3ceC6MDv3xfQWsidWKK8V5cy7XFvDDZiiL1WAamtP0uTIZEmMJyilHEz3Z3T5Wby1cF1x43VWCW71c49WZ/s1600/222469_4793760648423_2074821853_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhobVdDogTzA09K6aZdNtpVZK80JBAJ6A2yV43z4y6jGpITUwFYJZyHMeTiHy3ceC6MDv3xfQWsidWKK8V5cy7XFvDDZiiL1WAamtP0uTIZEmMJyilHEz3Z3T5Wby1cF1x43VWCW71c49WZ/s320/222469_4793760648423_2074821853_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRCIT1B9evDM12eA2rMpUh-xD1Ezwk4XwHsy-BSCxapbRAv6LTYkF84lYQEB2O4yY4FkdOLnjs7HHdGT-4fqnnICAjXANgcYSDP4jzHKBPLBpEGG5OY0K6ons8mVN3hzd1XTYuGHsJNIBE/s1600/319022_4793761248438_1639811283_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRCIT1B9evDM12eA2rMpUh-xD1Ezwk4XwHsy-BSCxapbRAv6LTYkF84lYQEB2O4yY4FkdOLnjs7HHdGT-4fqnnICAjXANgcYSDP4jzHKBPLBpEGG5OY0K6ons8mVN3hzd1XTYuGHsJNIBE/s320/319022_4793761248438_1639811283_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></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/AVvXsEi2rW97xu1N4AHIMY7uyjAbPq_7xO5oweDAv1PZQ49Tr3-aWbNGwTRD26MIPdP1Rk5rKxslhQueFAISV2ief9p534J_f-5LsY7dVR0m8_jPxvlMvudKnuanCrFUWKWdJuJl14-QHdtwOkBz/s1600/156641_4793762728475_1345851770_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2rW97xu1N4AHIMY7uyjAbPq_7xO5oweDAv1PZQ49Tr3-aWbNGwTRD26MIPdP1Rk5rKxslhQueFAISV2ief9p534J_f-5LsY7dVR0m8_jPxvlMvudKnuanCrFUWKWdJuJl14-QHdtwOkBz/s1600/156641_4793762728475_1345851770_n.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We then roasted and ate the seeds. If you haven't done it before, they're gorgeous! A little salt and oil and roast them in the oven.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghASyVKpUZ1oFtXp2DKSLFCRGxoPJin6UDGhNXfcT2m9qcBInJrX5ADRk8U3c_R2hwKZ9_-Ehwpwwk_sMFMsbraxS-FlrG_98F0ybo7xAFG3tWUKlMthxM2RdEC2TRdd6hTltAtRaRY3dR/s1600/407_4793764408517_1816274332_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghASyVKpUZ1oFtXp2DKSLFCRGxoPJin6UDGhNXfcT2m9qcBInJrX5ADRk8U3c_R2hwKZ9_-Ehwpwwk_sMFMsbraxS-FlrG_98F0ybo7xAFG3tWUKlMthxM2RdEC2TRdd6hTltAtRaRY3dR/s320/407_4793764408517_1816274332_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, I know it's a mess...but, they're supposed to be, yes?</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_rxozgiVy0E8fo02vMQdfLziNyKLzLJ7I5wT8WFxomsTGV35ONZO8C9gN094hSVsnk8gvfOrUf64lugnmTm07bQuK7Z2WMtYM66l2w9luikghj3NOduXnaawEC84zF0nzCpWuP5jGTe8l/s1600/292832_4793769448643_1362223384_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_rxozgiVy0E8fo02vMQdfLziNyKLzLJ7I5wT8WFxomsTGV35ONZO8C9gN094hSVsnk8gvfOrUf64lugnmTm07bQuK7Z2WMtYM66l2w9luikghj3NOduXnaawEC84zF0nzCpWuP5jGTe8l/s320/292832_4793769448643_1362223384_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The two perched on the mantle.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMlQbqon4QKBCT6Hj7wanrS2zBI-PUXElrA2ArQDF05L6TUSW4pYEUN9qP_oMBffTdsD3xcuDd0Ptj-jJfM2UX6_pnMJjqGmWaSJSq8PdJCLQW8c6aV7G0GmA4POuOQ18LYpPu4QUPtI7T/s1600/546923_4793765528545_1998755554_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMlQbqon4QKBCT6Hj7wanrS2zBI-PUXElrA2ArQDF05L6TUSW4pYEUN9qP_oMBffTdsD3xcuDd0Ptj-jJfM2UX6_pnMJjqGmWaSJSq8PdJCLQW8c6aV7G0GmA4POuOQ18LYpPu4QUPtI7T/s320/546923_4793765528545_1998755554_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Isla's favourite cartoon character: Lau Lau from Waybuloo. BULOOOOOOOOOOO....</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Oh, and Barry has a lot of time on his hands so this is his latest creation below. We are doing Thriller in Zumba up to Halloween and he decided to do this to show his support. Of course, he had to pick the worst and sweatiest pic of me! Oh, what I wouldn't have given to be MJ when I was little...and now, I am! Lookin' well Zumba Zombies!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCC43Fr0nfziCBCPl9yY5qQVUjjZaGToF0NGXmVjnV8u0v-fKunZa1fu7hrr1fmhn4_XwaGEjxu6DNZmPI0jeUyCup_K69RDSceav0U4fSF-dFN7_rdVQCuv5wSYUc57oYVkvyAmWDKKr7/s1600/429216_4781543863011_314839543_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCC43Fr0nfziCBCPl9yY5qQVUjjZaGToF0NGXmVjnV8u0v-fKunZa1fu7hrr1fmhn4_XwaGEjxu6DNZmPI0jeUyCup_K69RDSceav0U4fSF-dFN7_rdVQCuv5wSYUc57oYVkvyAmWDKKr7/s320/429216_4781543863011_314839543_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
LesleyRHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17295150424965085567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238321208492720330.post-22207202107621082082012-09-28T07:58:00.001-07:002012-09-28T07:58:52.108-07:00Collective Facebook UpdatesI have too many Facebook updates to post and I don't want to be a news feed hogger and post too many status updates...I do that enough with my Zumba posts. But, I just feel like I need to get them out. How did we get our mindless little thoughts and points out before Facebook? Here's my collective Facebook status updates because I want them out of my head:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Why is everyone being so hard on Jessica Simpson?!! So what she's a bit heavier than she used to be! She JUST HAD A BABY! Give her a break...jeez! </li>
</ul>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitwMP5IqcMs28XqZ_ex1Q0TIfTw4UbUphLajMAIB6ux6itjrZFpqKiv8YR7mXpNPCH9HSSKELxQzu3wk0tXW_yCwbgU6-yRk1dFT_gilrARnVtJjh9RARPvnTkRWlrz8c00LoN8p1Ndzlc/s1600/xjessica-simpson-post-baby-body_jpg_pagespeed_ic_sfrit5cQC7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitwMP5IqcMs28XqZ_ex1Q0TIfTw4UbUphLajMAIB6ux6itjrZFpqKiv8YR7mXpNPCH9HSSKELxQzu3wk0tXW_yCwbgU6-yRk1dFT_gilrARnVtJjh9RARPvnTkRWlrz8c00LoN8p1Ndzlc/s320/xjessica-simpson-post-baby-body_jpg_pagespeed_ic_sfrit5cQC7.jpg" width="230" /></a></div>
<br />
<ul>
<li>Are we really sure Psy is saying Gangnam Style and not open condom style because I'm pretty sure he's saying open condom style?</li>
</ul>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUP0arvRULr2Vs8rZmQudRKypx9r1B4lIeTuXNi233leblDxt4dV00qqWDtihQ6iAHuxiMqXNpnr0rkp_6mILkpIm6qpou0589pHfOEtQlRyXPSfst0J2ryMLaUP5ZJ_uCsiQ6ZDymx2FR/s1600/untitled.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUP0arvRULr2Vs8rZmQudRKypx9r1B4lIeTuXNi233leblDxt4dV00qqWDtihQ6iAHuxiMqXNpnr0rkp_6mILkpIm6qpou0589pHfOEtQlRyXPSfst0J2ryMLaUP5ZJ_uCsiQ6ZDymx2FR/s320/untitled.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />
<ul>
<li>Are there any fun haunted houses in Derry for Halloween?</li>
</ul>
<br />
<ul>
<li>What is there fun to do in Liverpool? I haven't been to England yet so I want to go and it is a direct flight from Derry....so....what's it like? Plus, Liverpool apparently is only a short train ride from Manchester and guess what just opened in Manchester? TACO BELL....oh, what!!!!</li>
</ul>
<br />
<ul>
<li>I really want some chocolate digestives and a cup of coffee. Or even better, someone go to Starbucks and bring me back a Mocha Frappucino with no cream and a Skinny Lemon Poppy Seed Muffin. I will take this anytime of day. Thanks.</li>
</ul>
<br />
<ul>
<li>Has anyone watched the new Taylor Swift video, "We are never getting back together?" And, if you have, have you noticed the fella dressed up like a cat or whatever he is (he is playing the guitar too I think) and how sooo in to the song he his? I love him lol. And, why is Taylor Swift suddenly so angry? Have you listened to her new music? Poor wee critter.</li>
</ul>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiPofpQAZQ3zUWao1bIh2ot6a_Ad0zJoKPOlF_8Q-3brMM-YhdaXqzlRpgqAJ9130eH673WztoIleqRAXx4-2051A6WngfbxlIj9LdNBC-R3hOT5P5n2tlt-0VVWPUzgT1lCSTXnKZTLUM/s1600/taylor-swift-dancing-in-pajamas-we-are-never-ever-getting-back-together-music-video-screen-shot.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiPofpQAZQ3zUWao1bIh2ot6a_Ad0zJoKPOlF_8Q-3brMM-YhdaXqzlRpgqAJ9130eH673WztoIleqRAXx4-2051A6WngfbxlIj9LdNBC-R3hOT5P5n2tlt-0VVWPUzgT1lCSTXnKZTLUM/s320/taylor-swift-dancing-in-pajamas-we-are-never-ever-getting-back-together-music-video-screen-shot.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
There he is above on Tayor's left. Maybe he's a bear...or a raccoon?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<ul>
<li>Why do you call your underwear pants and your pants trousers here? This just gets me in all types of tricky situations! When I say pants, I mean my trousers not my underwear lol. </li>
</ul>
<br />
<ul>
<li>I so wish I could get on board with this whole metric system thing, but being American, I can't, I don't think I ever will. I am constantly converting centimeters to inches and if you asked me right now how many centimeters are in an inch...I have no idea.</li>
</ul>
<br />
<ul>
<li>Barry and I both have gray Converse trainers and yesterday we wore them out together without realizing it and we looked soooooooo adorable lol. </li>
</ul>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3f_ORhUo7GMr_zH6qpyVLu68D0lJvi2kfpMiRfZYYauTOo6ckkAb6Mk7O_aM9wDACuN9WM6tSVw0Zg7s8uY9BSKV0T_-zP5Je3Z9gEtW3eYlfvMS0Fgg-2jtHnrV01tuSuPqCECFKR1dD/s1600/converse_couple_by_viperphotography-d34bu1j.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3f_ORhUo7GMr_zH6qpyVLu68D0lJvi2kfpMiRfZYYauTOo6ckkAb6Mk7O_aM9wDACuN9WM6tSVw0Zg7s8uY9BSKV0T_-zP5Je3Z9gEtW3eYlfvMS0Fgg-2jtHnrV01tuSuPqCECFKR1dD/s320/converse_couple_by_viperphotography-d34bu1j.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<ul>
<li>Was anyone else sick of reading the sex scenes in the 50 Shades trilogy by the second book or was it just me?</li>
</ul>
<br />
<ul>
<li>Why is the Disco Ball jewerly at Argento so sparkly and beautiful? I want all of it.</li>
</ul>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHPbnrJwm3IG09I6pJOsIwnL00TJMWOGAuLUTYDQWl5MQ4WO6xwMTSRrvjqxSRjaCIITgkYHVDI1EzKZCp5HVDXUvLOROGYSmgFZVNf2PUP8Er73JRQ320lSZAOy2Uq-TwXlv8GsNDzLaz/s1600/28928.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHPbnrJwm3IG09I6pJOsIwnL00TJMWOGAuLUTYDQWl5MQ4WO6xwMTSRrvjqxSRjaCIITgkYHVDI1EzKZCp5HVDXUvLOROGYSmgFZVNf2PUP8Er73JRQ320lSZAOy2Uq-TwXlv8GsNDzLaz/s320/28928.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<ul>
<li>Why are Crunchies so darn good?</li>
</ul>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrNrPeIEaxenYL84mqu0r1QVAh3s_PkYkPjYscNKyi_Af9F9wBe9ZStymmZXpuwgj7Rf8tdNK8WuOTXyluGf9zzNEUsx7aFh261BqmWqEyPyUjnEvFcHlPsXFpIVACHVlq7UUQ6JL8Yg27/s1600/crunchiebar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrNrPeIEaxenYL84mqu0r1QVAh3s_PkYkPjYscNKyi_Af9F9wBe9ZStymmZXpuwgj7Rf8tdNK8WuOTXyluGf9zzNEUsx7aFh261BqmWqEyPyUjnEvFcHlPsXFpIVACHVlq7UUQ6JL8Yg27/s320/crunchiebar.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<ul>
<li>All the people that come to my classes are awesome and they work soooooo hard and do sooooo good! I'm impressed every day by their energy and enthusiasm.</li>
</ul>
<br />
<ul>
<li>I can't believe Tesco has their Christmas wrapping paper and cards and stuff out! It's September!!!!</li>
</ul>
<br />
<ul>
<li>Why do people say things like, "I'll do that today." But, in reality, they won't do it today. They know it and you know it. What they really mean is "eh, I'll do it in 3 days or so." Why don't they just say that?</li>
</ul>
<br />
<ul>
<li>Barry is a great cook! And, no he didn't tell me to say that! I am treated to a gourmet meal nearly every night...I can't tell you the last time I cooked something!</li>
</ul>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiib6zb_kP7Dur-KwbpqIbhSnMmVpjISDBiSo1tA40el9nC3cOfXmmxqXj01pTGnKrjn3wdlQGqy0VkPwzGvEYinun0zPe2KvCZnG1QJ4ogrD_Jsnc24cI6LkHPL-iVTUtVMpP7mt1b1baV/s1600/SAM_3731.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiib6zb_kP7Dur-KwbpqIbhSnMmVpjISDBiSo1tA40el9nC3cOfXmmxqXj01pTGnKrjn3wdlQGqy0VkPwzGvEYinun0zPe2KvCZnG1QJ4ogrD_Jsnc24cI6LkHPL-iVTUtVMpP7mt1b1baV/s320/SAM_3731.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<ul>
<li>Does anyone have the recipe for O'Brien's cherry scones? Ohhhh Meee Geeee, those things might as well be King Tut's golden undies in my book. Yummmmmmm!</li>
</ul>
That is all.LesleyRHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17295150424965085567noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238321208492720330.post-71622180747180594842012-09-24T18:26:00.000-07:002012-09-24T18:26:41.669-07:00The Derryization of LesleyIt has been just over a year and a half since I packed up my life and flew across the pond and set up shop in Derry, Ireland. A lot has happened in that year and a half, including the newest addition...our part Irish, part American daughter. And, she's actually one of the few Americans that can ACTUALLY say, "My daddy was Irish." Because, let's face it...anytime Barry tells someone from America he's from Ireland...100% of the time that person has some relation that "was Irish." <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoG8vcB5oNxIVQHdmF9A7JMDQQrFpGmz4XHfzVnjzTjr9aCk_OkRhYcfHqCRm-rwf9m4sJ-JjvrWFlzyC4C6m6gmu9hCHT3B8bOM-HnN_fxuVXeDyoRUyQBCYjN8UkUw6Tllkmtp0iNRTu/s1600/SAM_3744.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoG8vcB5oNxIVQHdmF9A7JMDQQrFpGmz4XHfzVnjzTjr9aCk_OkRhYcfHqCRm-rwf9m4sJ-JjvrWFlzyC4C6m6gmu9hCHT3B8bOM-HnN_fxuVXeDyoRUyQBCYjN8UkUw6Tllkmtp0iNRTu/s320/SAM_3744.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Isla flying her flags. Hey...that's as good as they are gonna look with my computer free-hand paintbrush skilz!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
So, anyway. I realized yesterday that one of the most prominent differences between myself now and and myself a year and a half ago other than my daughter, is that I have acclimatized, so to speak to life here. And here's how:<br />
<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>I no longer think about Taco Bell and the lack thereof of Taco Bell here all the time. Don't get me wrong, I'd still and I will still eat the hell out of it when I get to America, but I don't cry about it as much. I never literally cried about it, but I did whine a lot!</li>
<li>I'm slowly starting to take tea more than coffee. Although, I still love coffee, particularly coffee of the Starbucks persuasion, but I do enjoy hot tea now, too. I still miss my Iced Tea, though and homemade Iced Tea never tastes as good as the delicious cool, beverage that is delivered to your table at a restaurant.</li>
<li>I want and actually crave coleslaw on sandwiches! When I first moved here, I thought it was incredibly odd to put coleslaw on sandwiches, but now...I like it! The only think we put 'slaw ('cause we say it 'slaw in West Virginia) on in West Virginia is a hot dog or pulled pork sandwich or something. Now, I still absolutely WILL NOT put butter on my sandwich...unless it's a grilled sandwich or something. That to me is still odd, but hey you never know.</li>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfo6ivIgbwhMhv1ILEvd0euCQ60CbID6woAHLAru_rjWIJ7qwZ-abCeoY52QXSXyKLWqPJcIgYHjNrQcJgmweBlNgsDSMxaCGm-KmeKAuuSBu2g6FgdghXLIqJ-leYG7eNVsldfQuZlmV2/s1600/Sams8thStdog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfo6ivIgbwhMhv1ILEvd0euCQ60CbID6woAHLAru_rjWIJ7qwZ-abCeoY52QXSXyKLWqPJcIgYHjNrQcJgmweBlNgsDSMxaCGm-KmeKAuuSBu2g6FgdghXLIqJ-leYG7eNVsldfQuZlmV2/s1600/Sams8thStdog.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A West Virginia hot dog with chili and slaw.</td></tr>
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<div>
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<ul>
<li>When I first moved here, I noticed a very distinct difference in the chocolate here. The chocolate is milkier here than America. But now, I eat it and I couldn't tell you what is different about it. It tastes normal to me. Too normal, in fact, says the Crunchie bar stash upstairs in the bedroom so Barry won't see me eating them.</li>
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<ul>
<li>I now say "Aye" all the time. I used to make a very strong effort to never say it in public because coming from an American mouth...well, it sounds out of place. But now, I don't care. I say it to whoever and to be honest, no one has ever remarked about it. I even say some "Derry" things without thinking now. For example, I say "ano" all the time. Quick translation...this means "I know."</li>
<li>I forget that I have an accent here. I honestly don't here a Derry accent anymore I hear it so much. In fact, I forget that I DON'T sound like people here until someone asks me where I'm from and then I remember that I am a foreigner here. But, honestly, I don't get that "where are you from" question that much anymore. </li>
<li>And, I have people here now! Like, my own group of people, that I met on my own and not through Barry. People that I can "hang" with and call on for help if I so need it! </li>
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LesleyRHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17295150424965085567noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238321208492720330.post-38826715878435016392012-09-17T16:32:00.000-07:002012-09-17T16:32:15.310-07:00Two years and a big zumba thangHappy two year anniversary to my hubbers, Barry. Its hard to believe it has been two years since we got married, but here we are...two years later, living in Ireland, with a bambino. Who ever says the first year is the hardest part of marriage was a liar, personally, I think its the second year, so I personally feel a great deal of achievement on this anniversary, more so than last years. So, cheers to two years...I'll drink to that (this weekend maybe if we have a babysitter:).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgju2tBvB2TXYmAogti11VeU_RVG1Rpbr4c0mB5h8b4y2eQut26BpI7fJuKec_CWAz6Z0OwGMfxstQ_GBXNhgNdRZK5FaeHBoM1uWLJexj5avd7c69lIR-xRhvYfucHwnJHNtHOF7ECk0j6/s1600/184_184.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgju2tBvB2TXYmAogti11VeU_RVG1Rpbr4c0mB5h8b4y2eQut26BpI7fJuKec_CWAz6Z0OwGMfxstQ_GBXNhgNdRZK5FaeHBoM1uWLJexj5avd7c69lIR-xRhvYfucHwnJHNtHOF7ECk0j6/s320/184_184.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I have no idea what we're discussing here, but it looks serious doesn't it?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTSayuRzvpXaOwlE0jQLl5l8E0mQAK614QwtyEnXOd1vuePHv6LGPmh2IsUC_ayO_urwaWeiZ12WqGAxgoJd1QL0f3Mc3zpi2fBDm-sdyS568YAV-FVZUZZ1dXHbbkripRbB8RFjm-pSwW/s1600/IMG_2643.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTSayuRzvpXaOwlE0jQLl5l8E0mQAK614QwtyEnXOd1vuePHv6LGPmh2IsUC_ayO_urwaWeiZ12WqGAxgoJd1QL0f3Mc3zpi2fBDm-sdyS568YAV-FVZUZZ1dXHbbkripRbB8RFjm-pSwW/s320/IMG_2643.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm still ragin' I didn't get to try the white part of the cake, but the chocolate was nice. </td></tr>
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In other news, this past Saturday was a Zumbathon to benefit Diabetes UK. Here are some pics. I would be remiss if I didn't mention this part because I'm proud of the Derry Wans. Diabetes UK on Saturday had One Great Big Zumbathon. Basically, in four different parts of the north, there were four different Zumbathons taking place...one in Newry, one in Derry, one in Omagh and one in Belfast. The Derry ones soooooo kicked butt, because we had a spectacular 62 people come out for that! Omagh had the next highest number of peeps at 24...so Derry...you kicked butt!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy8hyphenhyphen8WBArkGONKmBpA4G8NkHPOG1Hj1pwqcTr1C-W6WVcI3QLVuhJIKmCxHMpA5w1vmLHLcESorqmnZww6dPZDANeYl7l17li4jf7hqxW2ib0fQGHgYE32HmtE44wFxe8lFGwexPlbnOr/s1600/SAM_3857.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy8hyphenhyphen8WBArkGONKmBpA4G8NkHPOG1Hj1pwqcTr1C-W6WVcI3QLVuhJIKmCxHMpA5w1vmLHLcESorqmnZww6dPZDANeYl7l17li4jf7hqxW2ib0fQGHgYE32HmtE44wFxe8lFGwexPlbnOr/s320/SAM_3857.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />LesleyRHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17295150424965085567noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238321208492720330.post-52428967978919324282012-09-01T07:49:00.003-07:002012-09-01T07:49:47.913-07:00All I did was plug a radio in<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Screw it...if I'm gonna get old, I'm gonna do it with class...like her!</td></tr>
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When did I get old? That question has sort of been dancing around in my mind for a few weeks now, but today, it jumped straight up and started screaming. I'll tell you why. I plugged in a radio in the bedroom because our bedroom is too quiet. Barry doesn't like a television in the bedroom and I do. I like the noise. I like being lulled to sleep by the flashing lights of the television. You may remember my discussing the joy of this in <a href="http://irelandeverafter.blogspot.co.uk/2011/05/television-in-bed.html" target="_blank">this </a>old blog post. In fact, since I've moved to Ireland, I've had the worst time getting to sleep because my old trusty buddy, TV, isn't in the bedroom with me. So, I thought the radio would help me sleep if I play it soft enough, so at least there is some noise in the room and not the nails-on-chalkboard noise that Barry provides as he's snoring.<br />
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Anyway, I'm getting off track and the TV in the bedroom issue opens up a whole can of worms for me so I won't go in to that now. So, let's go back. Okay...today, I plugged the radio in and started turning the dial to find a station. I moved the antenna around until there was no more fuzz on my selected station. I wondered, do children today even know how to work a radio...tuning into a station and working the antenna until the signal is clear? I don't know, but I'd say a lot of them don't. I'm sure my parents thought the same thing as they plugged in their 8-track players.<br />
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The station I landed on was playing a medley of old, classic 80's tunes and I got excited because they were so soft and smooth compared to some of the shite that's on the radio now and it took me back. Back to my childhood and each song reminded me of something different from my childhood. Then, I remembered times when I was little and I would be in the car with my parents...driving through Marmet or somewhere on the way to Charleston and a song would come on the radio and I remember my parents singing the song. Of course, it was a song probably from when they were a teenager or whatever and I remembered thinking as I watched them sing and get into this song, <i>Jeez my parents are old. I wonder what point it is in your life that you just like crappy music?</i> Because, lets face it. The songs that my parents enjoyed on the radio when I was young, were certainly crappy to a young child. <br />
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Of course, now, I still don't know the pivotal point in one's life that makes you start liking crappy music because the music I like now, I certainly don't think is crappy. And, at that time, the music on the radio that I thought was crappy as a child, my parents certainly didn't think was crappy. <br />
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So, yeah there was that (yes, I thought of all this based on the simple action of plugging a radio in) and the fact that I was <i>plugging in a radio!</i> I mean, who has a radio now? Most people would just play the radio through their laptop or iPhone, or use their iPod and dock to play music, but no...not me. I use a radio and suffer through the boring talk that the deejays love to spew and all the commercials because I'm so old, I use a radio. Yes, I do have an iPod, but I don't use it. It's too complicated and it takes forever to put music on. Yes, I do have a computer that I could listen to music through, but it is old and slow and takes a billion years to load up the radio. And, it's not loud enough because I like my music loud (of course, I teach Zumba classes where the louder the better or maybe my hearing is going because I'm old...I dunno). And, I did try an iPhone and I HATED it. I absolutely loathed the thing, so I went back to a BlackBerry. See, most old people loathe new technology.<br />
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So, that was the radio incident that finally made me realize I was old. A few of the other things that have been hinting that maybe I'm getting a little long-in-the-tooth was the movie incident yesterday.<br />
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Barry and I went to see a movie and we landed in the theatre...the only ones there. We took our seat and this squad of little shits (a group of boys about 13-years-old) came in and set up shop in the back row and proceeded shining laser pens on the screen. They didn't do it through most of the movie, but then towards the last ten minutes they started shining the lights on the breasts and arses of the actors on the screen. I wanted to turn around and<strike> jump across the seats to the back row and throttle them until they cried for their mommies</strike> walk up to the back row and politely ask them to stop. But, I didn't because then they would have proceeded to shine their lights on the back of my head for the remainder of the film. Of course they would, I know how the minds of these little ones work. So, anyway, the film ended and I waited until they walked past us in the theatre and I followed them out. I followed them through the lobby, all the way down the stairs to the main entrance. I was never more than 5 feet away from them. Even as they stood in the lobby waiting for their lifts or whatever, I still stood within 5 feet of them. I knew I probably looked like a creep, but I didn't care. I wanted to freak them out because of what annoying turds they were being in the theatre with their fancy lasers. Eventually, after 5 minutes of being hovered over by a 32-year-old weird woman (ahem...me), they left and I felt a small victory. I thought to myself, <i>we never acted like that when I was their age</i>. Now, that's a classic, old-person's thought there.<br />
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So, how did the theater incident make me feel old? It wasn't really that in particular, but combined with my memories of being up at Foyleside Shopping Centre last week and seeing all of the young ones dressed like horrible fashion tragedies and letting the words, "Look at the way kids dress nowadays," drip out of my mouth to Barry, well that just solidified the fact that, yes, I'm old. I can remember my parents and grandparents saying to me, "the way you kids dress nowadays is awful." And, I caught myself saying it...at 32 years old just a week ago. <br />
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So, all those things...the theatre and the horrible fashion messes at Foyleside combined with me plugging a radio in this morning, brought me to the stark realization that perhaps I'm ready for an adult diaper. Although, I don't know when it happened and why did it happen to me? You hear of these happening, but you never think its going to happen to you! I suppose I should go book my appointment now for my Sophia Petrello hairstyle and just call it a day!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sophia Petrello from The Golden Girls.</td></tr>
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<br />LesleyRHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17295150424965085567noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238321208492720330.post-48413028421160168932012-08-12T15:57:00.003-07:002012-08-12T15:57:37.466-07:00Mommyhood and Fifty ShadesSo, what's going on out there?<br />
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I haven't a clue because this has been me the past few weeks:<br />
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Yes, that's me and Isla and I'm not really proud of this photo because it makes me look like an inattentive mother, but hey...trying to find time to read a book, let alone three books, with a six month old is difficult, so I have to do it when I can. More specifically, when Isla is calm. It has worked since I'm nearly through the third book now.<br />
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Also, we drove around a bit this weekend too...just for a change.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Went to the Altahullion Wind Farm to see windmills.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQgKlZ54xSisarCiPWHpVJyA8Xvj2WxPp-u18k6QwyAuWJTeyb6_I3oVRiMCNAOpTZ5vH0q1ILFIixsarSizGhQcV8RDeZu282MA92FIEmRHdJlc34fZYiKmmspj-jr_CvzYzVoR81nqFx/s1600/Photo1048.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQgKlZ54xSisarCiPWHpVJyA8Xvj2WxPp-u18k6QwyAuWJTeyb6_I3oVRiMCNAOpTZ5vH0q1ILFIixsarSizGhQcV8RDeZu282MA92FIEmRHdJlc34fZYiKmmspj-jr_CvzYzVoR81nqFx/s320/Photo1048.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Windmills.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiqbeDHpVz5k-dePRdLA8aui8GwkJB7mVzM6mzkh8A8yrPFFVLw1LudhwDYQ5pzkNQR6MbRBl_PmFLCP5wpiY5WBAl4tKQaJJyuCgOCWKbg6trjANjue_yiw_sYmPWSfAzxYZIWWhCOYCT/s1600/Photo1049.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiqbeDHpVz5k-dePRdLA8aui8GwkJB7mVzM6mzkh8A8yrPFFVLw1LudhwDYQ5pzkNQR6MbRBl_PmFLCP5wpiY5WBAl4tKQaJJyuCgOCWKbg6trjANjue_yiw_sYmPWSfAzxYZIWWhCOYCT/s320/Photo1049.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me hangin' with the mills.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8MVJH9HE_EIVbS9M6JX7bZuloi7EtdFfoF4uBxZvqnfNj1x8-D2oFcGEhF70EaOykIPqJa9UCf__b7wBFcRJabK0w1g7cNwelUScR52DzL5ypYri2_ln23qSRpNGaX9S1kvJquH9awEv4/s1600/Photo1050.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8MVJH9HE_EIVbS9M6JX7bZuloi7EtdFfoF4uBxZvqnfNj1x8-D2oFcGEhF70EaOykIPqJa9UCf__b7wBFcRJabK0w1g7cNwelUScR52DzL5ypYri2_ln23qSRpNGaX9S1kvJquH9awEv4/s320/Photo1050.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Same as above.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh89dJY3Hd2HFmD5OvKtbXsfunVjPphevN_U51gM5zAmLrruUizSP8ekuQRlYXDJKby3sKXfEjv6dE2cmiOMye7zqIgwHJK0VC-WnIIeoPqW5rZWmTPTD7VDmMzEQHuTAzz05cw2iM3QYpY/s1600/Photo1051.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh89dJY3Hd2HFmD5OvKtbXsfunVjPphevN_U51gM5zAmLrruUizSP8ekuQRlYXDJKby3sKXfEjv6dE2cmiOMye7zqIgwHJK0VC-WnIIeoPqW5rZWmTPTD7VDmMzEQHuTAzz05cw2iM3QYpY/s320/Photo1051.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Barry and the windmills.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpyNShqvCG0R4h4H2eTnFFAW-VTxUurQEbOsfGaj_DDb5Hsi8ZjbKoA5WnmZ1URvpw3ySkIR2iecQTfcJ26p7KS9fTofSFaLAZwSHec8yHoxAILqRrW3LKV6RCke06MHdMwEHHGx3Lg67Z/s1600/Photo1052.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpyNShqvCG0R4h4H2eTnFFAW-VTxUurQEbOsfGaj_DDb5Hsi8ZjbKoA5WnmZ1URvpw3ySkIR2iecQTfcJ26p7KS9fTofSFaLAZwSHec8yHoxAILqRrW3LKV6RCke06MHdMwEHHGx3Lg67Z/s320/Photo1052.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Got caught up in the Irish rush hour while out seeing windmills.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX1pnFRG94XQpE1cNtBkWcLq73ad93V6KirLbyz60moJZJEGQnlk84ngwus6GJ5u0feGqG-FjarEqmpiP03d-BTF6DNeE0_6ligiH_TpilkOsLsRODT1SRk9lxq-5j7uvxhpMvIoOPcelZ/s1600/Photo1053.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX1pnFRG94XQpE1cNtBkWcLq73ad93V6KirLbyz60moJZJEGQnlk84ngwus6GJ5u0feGqG-FjarEqmpiP03d-BTF6DNeE0_6ligiH_TpilkOsLsRODT1SRk9lxq-5j7uvxhpMvIoOPcelZ/s320/Photo1053.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Damned traffic.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<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/AVvXsEjtBeI71Saf9lZkA880EXb8cC_6_TPyaVWOsh2Nl65W3-9aIXClwarMFhwnp2fhePbIFm4K7P6swkT3R3BNvNfWlxpIJjII4kRk5gPKwUkBhM4_OkF12S403AWckIVezIKmcL8x8gzkm0ZS/s1600/210061_4446501967173_78151774_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtBeI71Saf9lZkA880EXb8cC_6_TPyaVWOsh2Nl65W3-9aIXClwarMFhwnp2fhePbIFm4K7P6swkT3R3BNvNfWlxpIJjII4kRk5gPKwUkBhM4_OkF12S403AWckIVezIKmcL8x8gzkm0ZS/s320/210061_4446501967173_78151774_o.jpg" width="284" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Went down to the Poisoned Glen in Donegal. This is Barry.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ62AkW766zNJxGYP3wpr-fwxIGaC05vBIDXqlLmKN-aYX6d72onw-5L16D9qAkgp3QXPTBsCwW3Mrgfl9N2BVSjACTlePZznB5dlUblrBaifXsFOTJ1HXu-jDcmE3iIQI4uSzWAFE17IX/s1600/259487_4446471886421_1491221596_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ62AkW766zNJxGYP3wpr-fwxIGaC05vBIDXqlLmKN-aYX6d72onw-5L16D9qAkgp3QXPTBsCwW3Mrgfl9N2BVSjACTlePZznB5dlUblrBaifXsFOTJ1HXu-jDcmE3iIQI4uSzWAFE17IX/s320/259487_4446471886421_1491221596_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Poisoned Glen.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiqo-7Tc5g4AYB8GqJXpiz_HHsj-3hqaHYfbDTVLgFBl3osfXrrfOIy73a75_P2Ah6WHn2SKRdstfd7qgrkf-q49sYAJk8jEmT1pEuBwj8GFPKNQnC-tUByGo5oLsOtUUaHmtFyxs2cpYE/s1600/259545_4446469806369_143773762_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiqo-7Tc5g4AYB8GqJXpiz_HHsj-3hqaHYfbDTVLgFBl3osfXrrfOIy73a75_P2Ah6WHn2SKRdstfd7qgrkf-q49sYAJk8jEmT1pEuBwj8GFPKNQnC-tUByGo5oLsOtUUaHmtFyxs2cpYE/s320/259545_4446469806369_143773762_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Poisoned Glen.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5do1T7FjyMuQD5bg3MylPIq6N9lhquE-NK6TLvD1eMdlUBj2b3n_8SxMAMhHXMJZW8eZMua89Ey2x4kfap3SUEXXJHrg3XSJnPewyCG-BUbp8rKBQJSa7L6bWsBs4gG94dGyTjeJQkQH9/s1600/290809_4446509567363_349194582_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5do1T7FjyMuQD5bg3MylPIq6N9lhquE-NK6TLvD1eMdlUBj2b3n_8SxMAMhHXMJZW8eZMua89Ey2x4kfap3SUEXXJHrg3XSJnPewyCG-BUbp8rKBQJSa7L6bWsBs4gG94dGyTjeJQkQH9/s320/290809_4446509567363_349194582_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bunbeg Harbor.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfUSbZ2f52b3Jluyypu3yd-Mw3hinjLEcGwbb5oHhHyNr8o8Yv6_sgKL9-DEBK2pux9QsZc8AuN0Jqa6IoFqmvlhS6YPTUSEMf-RzcDMsxJZnxhmKNiPFs8tbihsrT0BHRG8YCWMtqamkG/s1600/332965_4446495327007_871022761_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfUSbZ2f52b3Jluyypu3yd-Mw3hinjLEcGwbb5oHhHyNr8o8Yv6_sgKL9-DEBK2pux9QsZc8AuN0Jqa6IoFqmvlhS6YPTUSEMf-RzcDMsxJZnxhmKNiPFs8tbihsrT0BHRG8YCWMtqamkG/s320/332965_4446495327007_871022761_o.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Church in Poisoned Glen.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLR5Atj6xl2IVP97cS5mgVK0e_BTEOvRX5TCRNsDA_5f4TWO68V1KE1vycwy0KGr_V_x0cPqFfb3wvziZwthcsyfOVObw8WW8CUcSyi84Mgj3YiARk5inl1-RKKoesb96U5iD5vTtzod9E/s1600/411574_4446507767318_340953054_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLR5Atj6xl2IVP97cS5mgVK0e_BTEOvRX5TCRNsDA_5f4TWO68V1KE1vycwy0KGr_V_x0cPqFfb3wvziZwthcsyfOVObw8WW8CUcSyi84Mgj3YiARk5inl1-RKKoesb96U5iD5vTtzod9E/s320/411574_4446507767318_340953054_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Poisoned Glen.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4kRw52D_hlMQX6HmGpW2zE2qh4DW1I2KiHqJ8VV0bz2Kp1faV8VS62h4zpvw5MEXFbKWRTCfIR3ENBjVwoSFMtrqKp9QD9Cu_u65FE2pNKeFlZiO3D6_QcM9aSRHe3gvuw-zbWlZoBdrg/s1600/461641_4446494526987_1962152943_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4kRw52D_hlMQX6HmGpW2zE2qh4DW1I2KiHqJ8VV0bz2Kp1faV8VS62h4zpvw5MEXFbKWRTCfIR3ENBjVwoSFMtrqKp9QD9Cu_u65FE2pNKeFlZiO3D6_QcM9aSRHe3gvuw-zbWlZoBdrg/s320/461641_4446494526987_1962152943_o.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me in the distance.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnSJH3pWYSGawhlI_ZHORKjbX3WA2F03anYnpzwTo6KpFKCPxAHZO-wtL4G4CYitC-kWWEEgRo71c4wBVdPB7ogvWkTx07KpBU4HFSuCsMfqfMPxei-F9EdH4lrqz_u2OVojmNSnlpIMs6/s1600/glen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnSJH3pWYSGawhlI_ZHORKjbX3WA2F03anYnpzwTo6KpFKCPxAHZO-wtL4G4CYitC-kWWEEgRo71c4wBVdPB7ogvWkTx07KpBU4HFSuCsMfqfMPxei-F9EdH4lrqz_u2OVojmNSnlpIMs6/s320/glen.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Donegal scenery.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />LesleyRHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17295150424965085567noreply@blogger.com0