tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44255846814136312302024-02-06T20:07:56.501-08:00Random ReflectionsHailey Lingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06310074941292711151noreply@blogger.comBlogger18125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4425584681413631230.post-89029502294925257142011-03-10T08:57:00.001-08:002011-03-10T09:01:20.975-08:00Good Morning!I get to wake up to this face every morning. Need I say more? I am so stinkin' blessed!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcoY4HwNw6a9ZIxRaCy_jH_nS2gDIzUnyqifMAc_Vsuu0fkaZ0znv1AWAEXbYJq-PlA1UzoDv1if0fLfDkyJC5dz_zBCfdxFJjzlT7lYLvGRL-zmJJ9vGWAuvuMOIpO1FdSFsCXqzdY21H/s1600/DSCF0362.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcoY4HwNw6a9ZIxRaCy_jH_nS2gDIzUnyqifMAc_Vsuu0fkaZ0znv1AWAEXbYJq-PlA1UzoDv1if0fLfDkyJC5dz_zBCfdxFJjzlT7lYLvGRL-zmJJ9vGWAuvuMOIpO1FdSFsCXqzdY21H/s320/DSCF0362.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582497233569647554" border="0" /></a>Hailey Lingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06310074941292711151noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4425584681413631230.post-9850386599487757362011-03-03T16:51:00.000-08:002011-03-05T15:43:54.426-08:00Liberation!<span style="font-family:courier new;">I have been collecting recipes from various sources for as long as I have been married so that's approximately 12 years. Did I just say 12 years? I clip from magazines, make a copy from friends and family onto various items that are sure to never get lost such as napkins, sticky notes, newspaper edges, etc. I tear off the back of boxes and rip labels just to get at a recipe that "sounds" good. I get suckered into books and magazines because the picture on the front looks de-lish and if you know me at all it doesn't take much to convince me I need another book. (As a side note, what you see on the table is not even half of the recipe books mags I own, anyone need a loner? I'm all about sharing.) Besides can't we all use that ten dollar magazine that promises culinary masterpieces thrown into a crock pot for under 5 bucks? Well maybe you don't but me on the other hand is another matter. I want mouth watering loveliness smelling up my house with the "what smells so flippin fantastic in here" wafting up my nose as soon as I walk in the door. What I typically get would be described as "what smells so flippin awful that Garth (the dog) won't even come inside". I then proceed to walk around like a blood hound sniffing out the headache inducing culprit, to find that the garbage had been taken out but the broccoli juice in the bottom of the steamer (that I was too lazy to clean the night before) is now disgustingly leaching it's nastiness all over the entire house.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">So, back to the story at hand, I have once and for all decided it is time to liberate myself from recipe hell. It looks kind of like this:</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5580255068718738610" style="float: left; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 320px; height: 240px; font-family: courier new;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKFkKct8FX8ZuYu9qvEYRSbu4SfM5YhZEuGGDoUouJ_Hp1QBUPJSHYehhsuG2epd7VZV1UHYgzl5suw_BgqjSNA0YtFESG7eEHHndxKM4hyphenhyphenR8qO_dGG6OKIM8mkJebIA5Xnrp4wsRa1dou/s320/DSCF0339.JPG" border="0" /><span style="font-family:courier new;">The aha moment came when I could not find my Zuppa Toscana soup recipe. It just happens to be the one soup I make that Jason absolutely loves. I like soup. I could eat it all the time, but according to my dear hubby the Pepsi Man "soup" does not equal a meal and not to mention is too much work to eat because it requires numerous bowls of "sipping" to get full. Really? Since when is eating food work? Can I get paid for this kind of work? I'm pretty sure I would be excellent at it. I wouldn't even mind working overtime if a baked good was involved.</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><br />Pepsi Man is difficult to feed sometimes, especially with someone like me who is open to all foods. I have never met a veggie I didn't like, until New York that is and Chris's mom said broccoli rab was good. I must beg to differ, but in my defense I gave the green a good try. I was convinced she was right and it just needed a second even third try. Dustin wasn't sure how I even made it past the first. It was one of those moments you wanted to wipe your tongue with a napkin, bar the fact we were in a great restaurant in the big city and some would have deigned it bad table manners. For those of you who happen to like broccoli rab, well that's fantastic for your sophisticated pallet, as for mine I'll steer clear.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">I have tried in the past to write down my recipes on those cutesy little cards and place it all in a neat box that I can bring out at a moments notice and find to my delighted fingertips all those amazing recipes to feed my family's body and soul. After about three cards I decide my hand is too tired to continue this sort of tedious work and hence proceed to the pantry to stuff some chocolate in my mouth as I scowl at all those little scraps of torn paper and what nots that have now become a rather bothersome chore instead of the "I'll be cooking like a pro in no time" I had hoped for.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">I have once and for all decided to give it a true effort. Do you see that cute polka dot binder in the back? Well it's empty....for now. The goal is to fill it up with the recipes that I use frequently and categorize them into sections that make more sense than an "I'm sure it's in this stack of odds and end papers....maybe....I hope". My great grandmother who I hold dear to my heart wrote her potato salad recipe on a card for me and I cannot see myself ever giving that up. It is in her beloved handwriting but more importantly in her own words. Such as she uses the phrases "I like red potatoes best","maybe 4-5 eggs", and "to taste". Everything she cooked was to taste. She was an excellent cook and learned from her mother growing up on a farm in the early 1900's where people ate good homemade food all the time. When I read her recipe I can hear her voice just as if she were standing there peeling the potatoes with me. So for those particularly cherished hand written recipes I will retype them to suit my binder but I have decided to include the handwritten one at the bottom to be able to revel in those memories as I cook.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">Now just as I would purge my closet of unused and unwanted clothing I have determined the same must be done with my recipe mess. I am not a keeper. I am a thrower, tosser, giver. I have no problems relinquishing items I don't need or use. How I got myself into this situation is beyond me. Is there a recipe clipper AA? I know it happened one tsp at a time. I guess it's the same old story we all have, you know the one where you tell yourself you might use it sometime. It then gets mixed up back in the stack and sent off to the island of misfit recipes. I'm putting a garbage can next to my work space and trashing every recipe that I haven't used. I'm not worried I'll miss something because quite frankly, I don't know what I'm missing. I can imagine it probably tastes good, but not enough for me to actually make it. Besides, I'm pretty sure I could also find it or something like it later. Just because I ditched mine doesn't mean it's gone from the world of culinary creationism for good. If I simply can't bear to give one up because I have tasted it or can realistically see myself make it, then I am going to set those aside and give myself a timeline to put them on my menu planning for the month. If they don't get made by then, it's ahsta la vista baby! Besides, I have three other mouths to feed that have to give a nod of approval as well. Maybe I can make a "test kitchen" section in my binder? Hmmm...gotta think on that one.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">I know not everyone has my recipe problem. I guess it's a problem, not compared to the Middle East, Health care or rising fuel costs kind of problem, but it feels like it at least when it comes to wanting to make Zuppa Toscana and I can't find the dang recipe. Sure I could look it up on the Internet. I'm positive it's out there resting in cyberspace, but it's not MY recipe. My tried and true recipe. One change could throw off the whole balance of the universe, well my family's universe which feels like the whole universe when everyone is starving and complaining that they just might die of hunger. Not to mention, I finally found a soup Pepsi Man will eat and I'm not throwing that to chance on an experimental recipe replacement.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">I am open to all ideas. I am no respecter of recipe organization. If you have any great but non-intensive suggestions, by all means suggest away. I know this is going to involve at least some work on my part. Liberation does not come without its price, but freedom from recipe bondage will definitely taste sweet!</span>Hailey Lingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06310074941292711151noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4425584681413631230.post-71198090021288274162010-01-24T00:49:00.000-08:002010-01-24T02:02:41.174-08:00Been a While is an Understatement.I can definitely say it's possible to almost completely forget how to blog when you haven't done it for so long. I was thinking of attempting to change the background and can't remember how. Kala, I need to go through blog 101 again! Wondering why in the heck I'm up at 2:00 am and deciding to blog? Can anyone say RESTLESS LEG SYNDROME! Mercy! My eyeballs are rolling back into my head from fatigue but my legs are making me INSANE!! If this is the Lord's way of helping me to learn how to endure long nights of no sleep I'm not laughing. No sleep....how come you might say. I'm sure most of you have heard by now, news travels quickly around town and family, (especially when Wyatt blurts it out in primary) but we are expecting a baby boy in May. Some days I am still in utter shock and think I must be imagining it, but then the baby gives me a swift kick to the bladder and that's all the reminder I need (not to mention the nearest bathroom). I dare say it is possible to forget the joys and woes of pregnancy. I already cannot see my feet, look like I'm carrying multiples, using a bathroom every moment I turn around, crying over nothing (which does not seem like nothing at the time), waddling like a duck, eating like a pig, complaining about the temperature, going through bottle after bottle of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Aveno</span> lotion with Menthol (thank you to my friend Jennifer Judy for that advice) because I'm scratching like a monkey, I swear if I have one more animal symptom I'm going to be admitted to a zoo for observation.<br /><br />But despite all the craziness of pregnancy, I can honestly say I would take much, much worse. After years of trying and seeing different doctors and then finally admitting defeat and basically giving it all over to the Lord, He decided we were finally ready to experience the joys of parenthood again. To say we were surprised would be a definite understatement. I swore the stick tests were defective because it just wasn't possible, but after two blood tests the doctors were positive and I couldn't deny that our blessing had finally come. It was hard at first. As much as we wanted to be excited it was also extremely scary. After so many years of trying we kept expecting the rug to come out from under us. I had to be on extra medication to help ensure we didn't miscarry. Thankfully, that never happened and so far the baby has been growing like he should and it has been overall a fairly easy pregnancy, bathroom trips and all.<br /><br />I never thought I would have the chance to feel the sacredness of life growing inside myself again. I'm amazed everyday at how the human body works and builds from a single cell into a beautiful infant and cannot deny that there is a God. He lives and sends His spirit children to live on earth. I'm am overwhelmed at times that this spirit is coming to be a part of our family. As I look back, I cannot be angry it didn't happen sooner. I have learned so much. As frustrating as it has been it has also taught me that there are some things you just cannot do on your own. I have had many wonderful friends and family that have helped to lift me up and I have a wonderful husband and a compassionate son. I'll never forget the day Wyatt came into the bathroom after yet another negative pregnancy test to find me sobbing and he just put his arms around me and patted my back telling me he loved me. There were many times he was my Balm of Gilead. I'm <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">immensely</span> thankful for my eternal family. I have come to realize over the years that it is not what we lack here on earth that makes it worthwhile, it is what we are gifted. Sometimes it's not the children we hope to have, but it's the gift of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">perseverance</span> to overcome the obstacles put forth before us and to be able to say, I made it and I'm better for it and I did not give in to despair. I will be a better mother because of it. Children begin in our heart. They come to us eventually one way or another. My brother and his wife have two beautiful children, not born of their bodies but made for them nonetheless. They are proof of love beyond ourselves.<br /><br />I am in anticipation and apprehension for May to come. Does one forget how to comfort a baby, feed them know what they need? I hope not. Wyatt has become so independent that I have experienced way too much freedom. He's going to be my big helper though. I think that at times he is more excited than Jason and myself. Just today he was telling Jason that he was so happy to be having a brother because it's not easy playing by yourself and being alone. I can't say Jason and I are the only one's that have learned from this long wait. Wyatt has a quiet knowledge and compassion for others that could only come from his experience of waiting as well. He has told me many times he will love him even when he's a pain because it's better to have them than to not.<br /><br />Jason my beloved husband, I cannot forget about him. He has been so patient and kind even when he was suffering just as much as myself. His shoulders have been my constant companion whenever I have needed them to cry on. Sure he can be a pain in the butt, but so can I. When the times have been tough though, he has never left me to feel alone in my burdens. He has been a strength beyond measure. I am enjoying seeing his joy in this new little one. I have been more pampered than the diaper. One look at me during the first trimester and he would take my hand, walk me to the bedroom help me lie down and tell me he had things covered. His love has been a gift that will last more than a lifetime. I look forward to seeing him hold his new son. Both his sons.<br /><br />Well, I think I will give sleep another try, and hopefully my legs are ready too. Thank goodness I don't have sharing time tomorrow. I'll be lucky if any coherent words leave my mouth.<br /><br />Thank you to all of you for your prayers and encouragement. I know it made a difference.Hailey Lingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06310074941292711151noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4425584681413631230.post-71030522789216193922009-06-12T13:24:00.001-07:002009-06-12T14:31:54.611-07:00Shout Out!This is a shout out for all the moms out there with more than one child that happens to only be a few years apart. For two days I have been watching my nephew (age 3) and niece (age 1), who I dearly love, and let me tell you, I've decided that I have had things WAY too easy. I have had my eyes opened to the land of "Whys, How comes, and What's thats" at least 100 times a day, small little fingers that can snatch up any thing within a foot's length away quicker than I can process that a tub of yogurt just went flying through the air, painting with a baby on your hip while simultaneously trying to keep her from grabbing my glasses, sticking her fingers in the wet paint, or grabbing the paint brush,the joys of tattletaling, and my very favorite trying to help 3 year old go poo at the park while in a VERY disgusting bathroom with only one arm (being that baby was on my hip) while trying to not freak out when Landyn exclaims I think I got some on my pants (by the way wiping with said very quick baby grabbing everything with one hand is like an acrobatic trick). These are a few among the very long list of things that have made me want to run to the bathroom lock the door and rock back and forth sitting on the toilet while telling myself to think of a happy place. It's not very often I have to watch out when I turn around because there is a baby literally under my feet. I think I've come up with some new dance moves while trying to not squish her. Right now as I speak I have declared it officially quiet time with a "Why?" from Landyn of course. Answer: Aunt Hailey needs a time out or every ones going to take a nap! Nobody around here likes the "N" word apparently because that has seemed to do the trick for now. It has been a new experience for Wyatt as well. Whenever he tries to play the Wii or do something in his room I hear "Shayleigh NO", Shayleigh NO, "Shayyleigghhh Nooo!"......"MOM!!!" I asked Wyatt if he would still like a baby sister he quickly informed me "NO"! I think he was probably speaking in the heat of the moment.<br /><br />Despite all of the chaos over the last couple of days I have also experienced many joyful moments that I wouldn't have had if they were not here. I would have missed Landyn saying "Hailey, I miss you.", or wouldn't have gotten the nice sloppy kisses on my cheek from him either. I would have missed the absolute and utter contentment of feeling a baby grip your shirt and cuddle up next <span style="color:#ffffff;">to </span>you like you're the best stuffed animal ever. I wouldn't have been able to rock a sweet smelling baby to sleep which brought back the best memories of Wyatt when he was that small. I definitely would have missed out on all the cute little smiles given to me from both Shayleigh and Landyn. I'm thankful for the opportunity to become closer to them. It's been busy and crazy and I've spent all day trying to clean my house while each time going back into the living room experiencing deija vu because I could have swore I just picked up those toys, but I'm proud to say through it all I have yet to run away to the bathroom (it has definitely crossed my mind though).Hailey Lingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06310074941292711151noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4425584681413631230.post-10091645930849296182009-03-10T20:11:00.000-07:002009-03-10T20:56:41.948-07:00Admiration in the Moonlight“A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.” Oscar Wilde<br /><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311764144195772882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3ymgCmJrFUTonPLEzipbfcTy2k-eXWPO9bBCb9S_O9I-zXUD4nYdbLJ_WKBfbvN9fb2wZ1h9SxLHrX9-lpevGcIKKbXD3VuPU2YVYH33vY1e3TtTiLSrr8KFqKlrqFiIsuB1TZ3r_WY7I/s320/DSCF0208.JPG" border="0" />I was out getting wood tonight and couldn't help but notice the luminous moon rising over the blue ridge of the mountains. Every now and then, when I least expect it, I am fortunate enough to have small moments that stir my soul and remind me that in this vast universe there is a God who loves and is mindful of us. I am glad for those moments. Tonight as I sat admiring the majesty of the ascending moon, I couldn't help but be reminded of this truth.<br /><br />Can any man who has walked beneath the stars at night, can anyone who has seen the touch of spring upon the land doubt the hand of divinity in creation? So observing the beauties of the earth, one is wont to speak as did the Psalmist: "The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth his handywork. Day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto night sheweth knowledge." (Ps. 19:1-2.) — Elder Gordon B. Hinckley, General Conference April 1978Hailey Lingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06310074941292711151noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4425584681413631230.post-16596838447160736882009-03-05T22:20:00.000-08:002009-03-05T22:26:17.922-08:00Favorite Anne of Green Gables Quotes<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkrc1HzNJly8VFs7NOMbA5Xxm5-BnV1EcUyw1Na_Pja0H11YYEdnAF41Yx40syqr4nKfty-Jjy5PcJBkj4LQKSarhO5JOxGhfoyS2QG08FrIXI3CLlsUzvX3YmRlpMghGbFTWrcMzjU4Yq/s1600-h/515L1CDkdoL__SL110_.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309957235137625634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 76px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 110px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkrc1HzNJly8VFs7NOMbA5Xxm5-BnV1EcUyw1Na_Pja0H11YYEdnAF41Yx40syqr4nKfty-Jjy5PcJBkj4LQKSarhO5JOxGhfoyS2QG08FrIXI3CLlsUzvX3YmRlpMghGbFTWrcMzjU4Yq/s320/515L1CDkdoL__SL110_.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>"You'd find it easier to be bad than good if you had red hair," said Anne reproachfully. "People who haven't red hair don't know what trouble is."<br /><br />"Isn't it splendid to think of all the things there are to find out about? It just makes me feel glad to be alive--it's such an interesting world. It wouldn't be half so interesting if we know all about everything, would it? There'd be no scope for imagination then, would there?"<br /><br />"When I left Queen's my future seemed to stretch out before me like a straight road. I thought I could see along it for many a milestone. Now there is a bend in it. I don't know what lies around the bend, but I'm going to believe that the best does. It has a fascination of its own, that bend, Marilla."</div><br /><div><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B001KZH6E2?tag=chardickgadshill&camp=15309&creative=380093&linkCode=st1&creativeASIN=B001KZH6E2&adid=0ARBKFH8T905PJV80FN1&" target="_blank"></a><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B001KZH6E2?tag=chardickgadshill&camp=15309&creative=380093&linkCode=st1&creativeASIN=B001KZH6E2&adid=0ARBKFH8T905PJV80FN1&" target="_blank"></a></div>Hailey Lingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06310074941292711151noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4425584681413631230.post-13866755617312395702009-03-04T23:33:00.000-08:002009-03-05T07:48:21.724-08:00How to Catch a Whistle Pig!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBQtQgfmvUxXjqB8KMC8J-AsUozy_PbYS4jM9AjI8Ozhdqxlj_Lu8Wj3eX0KmOnZbcT_gIqFrQbb6EC9AAHBnmjCEGh0bTLoX77H4gWytgIsrsVV5FiPSzc3oQPbnnoaYxLds4UG7-LfHG/s1600-h/DSCF0078.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304972784938049522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBQtQgfmvUxXjqB8KMC8J-AsUozy_PbYS4jM9AjI8Ozhdqxlj_Lu8Wj3eX0KmOnZbcT_gIqFrQbb6EC9AAHBnmjCEGh0bTLoX77H4gWytgIsrsVV5FiPSzc3oQPbnnoaYxLds4UG7-LfHG/s320/DSCF0078.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>We used to think our dog was the only one who could catch a gopher in our family, but last year we were totally wrong, apparently a 5 year is just as capable. We were camping up at Cougar Point which if full of the little buggers cheeping like crazy at each other. Wyatt has a butterfly net he takes camping with him just in case he needs to catch some sort of "wild little varmint". I know that when he puts his mind to it he can be a very determined little boy, but when he told me he was going to catch a Whistle Pig (which is what Jas calls them) I just gave him the motherly "Sure honey, good luck!" bit. Of course I never really thought he would catch one. It's not like catching a frog.<br /><br /><div><div><div><div><div>When I look back at it now, those little furry critters didn't even have a chance. So for those of you out there wondering how he did it, I'll let you in on a little secret.</div><br /><div><br />1. Choose the baby ones. They are more naive to 5 year olds.</div><br /><div>2. Dope them up sufficiently on burnt marshmallows that did not meet code for smores, sunflower seeds and graham crackers.</div><br /><div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304974473427678178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6M02QpwZaimw8JIw7RZC4ZPW4dNLwj3jgBu32Y5Nx_Jl4QyljEOocevH4taUssiE1x0t4hnwwSUy8vYndlfxqTzpX9k6wO-I-qfkO8K5aDADv_TI_0y9NFzoHMtSPkEZLq4KOecL_QG64/s320/DSCF0072.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304972049064852978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5vnZb2cBVabr9fNX4TZ4Bl3puKn6HvnUm5HfTPacvrms9KDeRUBesW5hGTIT676UEvBMggqTCAQMXEoXgO_8UmmtTMIFZGnlXremx3_rsz-OF4RWyPWSP7PhmaI-pH6e5sIQ9V-dFeNSM/s320/DSCF0067.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div>3. A good butterfly net.</div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304972782190355186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM-F6RkoLdi7X_OYmkrhXIDBmsdclU_QK-O33f52vv7U4HzT0H_Y8M4ae5KfEZuWFq2Xa9bmvy-JtFxp6L9uTEC3Xdh1Zsa9H7uYGdO9Y9rkElJwVavFpWeiqEavNZTz0LY7Dux8YFrak9/s320/DSCF0076.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div>4. Patience, Patience and More Patience. Only a child could wait that long.</div><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304972048830624370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc5L5k1VzogMUkXX1vr_Z009HDMylA3ZNslWpjw0Fm-ekHgqahGtek2cCBMP-eUBwmTozVarKJajLPJFConFKww_tjRq0QsUoAm_yaIJyXE5WVX7i7IzhlHyOTrFgyhk08J5phaRCnbofI/s320/DSCF0069.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div>5. A good dog to wait with you.</div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304972043974937618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBqMB_LI8hq3t7_Tpu0-AsXu0b2KZhyphenhyphenH25s9y0rm0KCvu3-kc_40_sb3tbifvtXaTD4WniAa7F8u2y39Rl0uaKt9-pb5hEAnmHpIuJxOWO8MKP8GJoyu2iEXnRuZb47hzAVVqoa_5X5Ks-/s320/DSCF0065.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br />The result.......One happy and proud little camper!<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304972056077857826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6wD3wRQS-J-GtKtfsf4jD_4v-2tXY04WNX9UIbnIeqcHmnlY2XVWFoWu4EN7-Ca1M2700b6CvBAeyfxrMh3sUxeERSFGf6m6WIo63qz7rA6u3MqN5Pa9L2mjg9iZE48RXNorGOWkVyuWo/s320/DSCF0075.JPG" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304972053007894066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFdbU6cWu9kZJ35PEc_nsuAlYrF48Zz0AWeiIvRoc3U0BmFM6FQ17TTo67_0px0XPY82Xz-lDoRPw2EWjyEg4vmn2h6Q2aimkQRVu60tYpPJmssU_pC2ecRL5PMbeWggO-3qN_HWVj36Gn/s320/DSCF0074.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><div></div>Wyatt waited until it was too dark to see to catch his little whistle pig and was unsuccessful at his first attempt. Bright and early the next morning he got up and decided to try again. Jason and I were still lounging around in the camper with the screen door open. Then.......</div><br /><div></div><div>"I CAUGHT A WHISTLE PIG, I CAUGHT A WHISTLE PIG!!!" </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>What???!!!!</div><div></div><div></div><div>Jason got up to go check things out and sure enough, there it was. I told Jason to make sure and not touch it, unless he wanted rabies and then we'd have to lock him up like Old Yeller. What can I say, camping is always an adventure!</div><br /><div></div><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><br /><div></div></div></div></div></div>Hailey Lingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06310074941292711151noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4425584681413631230.post-37287826711528658712009-02-13T22:14:00.000-08:002009-02-13T22:44:55.733-08:00For the Love of Wyatt<div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">"Build me a son, whose heart will be clear, whose goals will be high, a son who will master himself before he seeks to master other men, one who will learn to laugh, yet never forget to weep, one who will reach into the future, yet never forget the past."</span> </div><div align="center">unknown <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302533943672370930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgJkbgD1ny7yFU_Ue46ppFKTRCBx_NORSij9QTIbRT5-nD8EY1tPCPJ2_ZXsAwPOT1y25yw9AOQQTkNHqtHCPqjZuO0rcdS9VTnvlS7B3Mzhl6KtDGiXMWTDknc_loI-2MN2576g6UpijF/s320/DSCF0152.JPG" border="0" /><span style="font-size:180%;">"Making the decision to have a child - it's momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking outside your body."</span></div><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Elizabeth Stone</span><br /></p><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;"></span></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;"></span></div><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div>Hailey Lingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06310074941292711151noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4425584681413631230.post-67026395644771514332009-02-13T21:59:00.000-08:002009-02-13T22:14:22.428-08:00For the Love of Jason<div align="center"> "<span style="font-size:180%;">For you see, each day I love you more. Today, more than yesterday and less than tomorrow."</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Rosemonde Gerard</span><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;"></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302530567536313426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaIa3lUYhjQbP3TTtYnjFHs5Tt92IwGySTcnY6zEXjJsTMJF5fNCApPcSUv2Kg5ZlgsVizirOfjjAtHHXPsTcwC38TPZ-D-1-i1Xfcv_eEsHyBi5WTeT2PzrobUYJla9SNvzzxNq8yhtR9/s320/DSCF0079.JPG" border="0" /></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">"A woman knows the face of the man she loves like a sailor knows the open sea."</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Honore de Balzac</span></div><br /><div align="center"></div></div>Hailey Lingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06310074941292711151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4425584681413631230.post-35028091010323965872009-02-13T21:39:00.000-08:002009-02-13T21:52:31.988-08:00Forever in My Heart<div align="justify">I love this picture of my dad. It's not the first time I have seen him laugh, but it is an occurrence I can probably count on one hand. My dad does not just let go and have a good hearty gut busting laugh. He chuckles and smiles but never a leg slappin', pee your pants kind of laugh. We were camping with them and Dustin and Chris' family and they happened to be playing Rook. I love taking out my camera and snapping pictures of everyone having fun and being themselves. Those kind of pictures capture the true essence of our lives, our very souls in fact. Posing is a conscious act. Candid photos capture us as our "real" selves. For all my dad's supposed gruffness, this is what is truly underneath. This picture will forever be stamped in my heart. I'll never forget the way he looks here.</div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302526519199172914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHMFL2HEx7bTmFHSHQ2cAb2nCS6GbjpKRPl1HCWE464BjZRK2pMu1Qqy7WSDF__wO06mATRIDRy5UYz0VTuRiMxJXY1syqS_lD4RMTP07klCtOTu70UcjkfMx25dQUZX4kIfOWt-3brNe6/s320/DSCF0015.JPG" border="0" />Hailey Lingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06310074941292711151noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4425584681413631230.post-45134509114020223832009-02-13T20:58:00.000-08:002009-02-13T21:56:37.847-08:00What Once Was Lost, Now is Found!<div align="justify">Have you ever found a five dollar bill in your pocket and got super excited, like you had just won the Power Ball? Well today, I felt that same emotion, except I didn't have to split it with fifty other people and no long lost relatives starting revealing themselves. A while back I had misplaced my flash card for my camera. I don't know if any of you have ever done this before, but upset was a nice word for what I felt. After a few months I decided it had gone to the Island for Lost, Overexposed, and Computer Crashed Memories. I was just starting to come to accept my loss and move on. You see, losing pictures really sucks, but losing the pictures of your son's first day of Kindergarten, his sixth birthday when he got his 4-wheeler he's been asking for since he could talk, the camping trip when he caught a whistle pig aka. gopher (no joke, but that will be another blog), my dad actually with a full blown laugh (there are hardly any pictures of him looking this carefree, truly it is a rare occurrence to catch on film), my last photo shoot with Wyatt giving me a normal non-strained cheese smile (we've all seen our kids do it) minus the veins poking out in his neck and many other small but very special to my heart memories. </div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">Too my utter and total surprise today, while I was in the office waiting for Jason, I just happened to flip open the flash disk cover on the printer, and what before my wondering eyes did appear? Why a small black flash disk I had thought long gone, not very near! <span style="font-size:180%;">Do you know how many times I have used that stupid printer and not thought to look there!</span> All those long agonizing weeks of searching every nook and cranny of my little abode, to no avail, flashed before my eyes. Why the heck would it be under my couch? Why not in a place like a printer that <span style="font-size:180%;">holds</span> flash disks? Uuuhhhggg, between jumping up and down and smacking my head for not thinking of it months ago, my joy was almost as great as when I discovered I had not actually lost Wyatt in Barnes and Noble. (Well not quite as good but almost, since I kind of felt like I had lost him somewhere between Summer of 08 and his sixth birthday, which technically is a much longer period of time, right?) It has been the highlight of my day and I was having a particular crappy day up to that point. Maybe the Lord decided I needed a break. Maybe He just wanted to see me smile and realize life can't be that bad. </div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><p></p><p></p><div align="justify">I think if we could all have an unexpected surprise everyday we would all be a more joyful people. But then again, maybe we do have unexpected surprises all the time. They just go unnoticed by our short sightedness and tunnel vision. I have decided that I would like to open my eyes more and discover those little unexpected surprises. Besides who likes to have such narrow vision anyways? </div>Hailey Lingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06310074941292711151noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4425584681413631230.post-82296498644925372722009-02-12T23:05:00.000-08:002009-02-12T23:24:37.457-08:00Some of My Favorite Quotes on AdversityA gem cannot be polished without friction, nor a man perfected without trials. ~Chinese Proverb<br /><br />"The challenges you face, the growth experiences you encounter, are intended to be temporary scenes played out on the stage of a life of continuing peace and happiness. Sadness, heartache, and disappointment are events in life. It is not intended that they be the substance of life. I do not minimize how hard some of these events can be. When the lesson you are to learn is very important, trials can extend over a long period of time, but they should not be allowed to become the confining focus of everything you do. Your life can and should be wondrously rewarding. It is your understanding and application of the laws of God that will give your life glorious purpose as you ascend and conquer the difficulties of life. That perspective keeps challenges confined to their proper place--stepping stones to further growth and attainment." -Richard G. Scott, "The Atonement Can Secure Your Peace and Happiness," Ensign, Nov. 2006, 41.<br /><br />Life is a series of experiences, each one of which makes us bigger, even though sometimes it is hard to realize this. For the world was built to develop character, and we must learn that the setbacks and grieves which we endure help us in our marching onward. ~Henry Ford<br /><br />Not everything which is bad comes to hurt us. ~Italian Proverb<br /><br />The stars are constantly shining, but often we do not see them until the dark hours. ~unknown<br /><br />"Our trials can either end up hardening our heart or humbling us. How true the saying that suffering in life is inevitable, but misery is of our own making. In other words, because of the plan that we all agreed upon in the pre-mortal life, we are going to suffer, whether we want to or not. However, if you can find how to suffer that tribulation in the Redeemer's name, you will bear it well and perhaps even do it with an understanding, happy heart." -Elder Gene R. Cook," BYU Devotional", February 1, 2005.Hailey Lingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06310074941292711151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4425584681413631230.post-43890067635821452212009-02-12T21:06:00.000-08:002009-02-13T07:01:23.292-08:00Confessions of a Blogger Wannabe<div align="justify">Okay, every time I sit down to blog I can't seem to figure out what to blog about. I've decided either my life is very boring or I experience blogger's block as frequently as I'm experiencing bad hair days anymore. Thanks to the fact that I left my good straightener at my sister's house a few weeks ago and my hair has gone into complete straightener with drawls. Not only does it have a mind of it's own but it is rebelling! I have honestly sat down and had blog envy. Why does everyone else's life look so stinkin' exciting? I think I must be like the dog who chases his tail. He thinks he's getting somewhere, when in fact he's only running in circles. Problem is, even the stupid dog is having fun! I'm looking through my photos to find something interesting to show everyone and realize, I have not taken a single photo since Christmas. I used to take photos of Wyatt and my surroundings almost every other day, just goofing around and practicing with my camera. I think I must have gotten confused somewhere along the way and decided the only reason I should take a picture is to capture a large event. What about the moments though? To be frank I don't really care so much about the big events. It's the moments that bring back the bittersweet memories. Somewhere along the road of fertility I think I've forgotten about me. I used to scrapbook and take great photos and laugh a lot and yell less. I didn't work so much. I made dinner almost every night and we sat at the dining table. I know our mealtime has changed because when I tell Wyatt to come eat, he sits at the counter instead of the table. </div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">Then it hits me, what the heck am I complaining about? There are no rules to blogging! I am not breaking a blogging code by only putting thoughts and no flippin' pictures. This is not to say I don't enjoy looking at your pictures, and that I will not be putting photos on my blog in the near future. I know this in not headline news for the rest of you, but I feel like I've had a breakthrough and my blogging cramp has now been cured. Please don't feel obligated to read every word I may type. To be honest, on some days it may just be word vomit and unrecognizable to anyone but myself because I know what I've been eating. Only the one vomiting will be able to see something unique about what comes out of them. (Sorry if I'm grossing you out, did I not warn you about word vomit. We don't always choose when we need to spew.) So enough of the Wayne's World talk and on to my main point. I am on a mission. No I will not be proselyting to the world wide web. I am on a mission to recover the parts of me that I have lost. Some things I may not even know are gone, because that is just a part of life. We all change and grow. Nothing stays the same. But, I do know there are things I wish I was doing and can't seem to remember how. Some of it was so connected to me that it almost feels like I've forgotten something, something as familiar as tying my shoe. Here is a list of what I intend to find: my <span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:180%;">creativity</span>, my <span style="font-size:180%;">enjoyment</span> out of the little things in life and not letting them pass me by, my <span style="font-size:180%;">genuine smile<span style="font-size:100%;">,</span> </span>my <span style="font-size:180%;">sense of adventure</span>, <span style="font-size:180%;">acceptance </span><span style="font-size:100%;">that we may not always get what we want in this life, my <span style="font-size:180%;">optimism</span>, </span>my <span style="font-size:180%;">love of a six year</span> old little boy that I am without words to even express how thankful I am for him, my <span style="font-size:180%;">love of a good man</span> who sticks with me even when I'm not at my best, but rather at my worst. No, I have never and will never stop loving them I just don't want to take it for granted anymore. I think I haven't loved them as much as I could because I've been too busy missing someone who isn't even here and may never be. Jas and Wy probably aren't even aware of it, but I am. I'm not proud to admit I have not been the person, mom or wife I know I should be let alone want to be, but I think that's what grief does to people. It makes them forget about the life they have right in front of their eyes. I think I have been very blind, blaming my discontent on being too busy, too tired or too sad. Have you ever heard the saying "I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired?" I don't know who said it first but I wonder if they ever did anything about it? Who wants to look back at their life and think "if only I had been happy, things would have been different." Happiness is a state of mind it just has to be acknowledged. I think Robert Frost said it best, "In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life. It goes on." And so will I.</div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="right"></div>Hailey Lingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06310074941292711151noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4425584681413631230.post-56977279576715271572009-01-13T09:44:00.000-08:002009-01-13T10:13:32.926-08:00Are Wii Having Fun Yet?<div align="justify">Wyatt got a Wii for Christmas and we took it down to Grandma and Grandpa Jones' house later that night. As you can see from the pics, everyone was having a good time. Dad kept declaring a rematch to mom since she was kicking his butt at boxing. I never would have believed a video game could make you physically tired, but the next day everyone was complaining about being sore.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290837337554457714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjegz-Na6IWwNCfizZ0V4m9tQmA3dZaCnWRDHRIyuiIbDuJX02C-5lQl9oVwORAIVNrhjuGeaiQ7mFibptdF6zaZapdpw2KbvbOjvrOzGZ0CZY_7nrHa2LkGnz_OKElJuN_uKiwVGQruNaC/s320/DSCF0385.JPG" border="0" /></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290837339418702050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT_DHAJCeXIcuF0Jf0qNLOMqibn-jWkr8k-nFIE5FHQm8nGSFwcMtneogHwEY4Z1v7w1gv9UgTi8CstrIifparyA5anr2IP6WtEPBFwPyubyZ7_6YF8QhDe5nAVUV-C4hHS_hWMoCDqtft/s320/DSCF0391.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center">Chris was taking everyone down.</p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290838563866136610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdE7YxFeabjt29OmJPeBB5K2NGcMWIOkgEcSSBSungImpOreW9xGyp7IJt646MfsNNYLFONTTjdhwimTc_jddbvSGPu5aiF1kTsx5g-1m9tGd6FJQQ1spuIuGoOzc7z6F06S2T0_0ZqhwN/s320/DSCF0382.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center">Clone Wars. The queen won.</p><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290839187594373874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheb5Y1DGJrrXGqjaQ9RIJxSfLMFMbhUhAE1MHPR8HME20G3RDeZTwCKm6GAz7hHeqDc1A3NqAoaLGcSb3ZIQO9bOqpUnWWxmIbk63m1LfWydnJww8bWYonukqIVTaMX9uVjtFdbkldnBe9/s320/DSCF0388.JPG" border="0" /></p><p align="center">Synchronized Boxing?<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290840569303047090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhNxIVSw9K7fNrDz11HkXAQpLP2F7ND4uc2UPs5dMZbna0eT8faWieNKMmTU9d97jVurm8JMQ5gfr40gWoXINB_DU5DIA41iEwHgzedmU5-_KRggNhOElLcP8sbVoS0mHFnDFUrCnRf8jG/s320/DSCF0396.JPG" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290840571378889314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF-KgiqjnMMaMTcZdLwb_fwATuiTVaI_7bUOkFQNaXrt8hAGU6PeeLak_TWA22ek1sggiTD0Jos_KY-7vZ7MzTJZmx6NU7at22Zt2F2863Pxh8pYA0MRBTMfui3pDH0b8evUqbun8jYgcO/s320/DSCF0397.JPG" border="0" /></p><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290840562772202386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE2v3JvEsNCG0HMkIsfQOlfC-HSV_DreFFNAFT6s3voDCE-gdWM0LTAUVBEKr71zKIsJaHAx0I268Q4AB9wGBehX0x1EznCNFmzSHcCh1RE_UTikdDXtfwvKrI_8FPO6X_ZwuT1-EVLb9J/s320/DSCF0394.JPG" border="0" /></p><p align="center">Ya gotta give him points for tryin'!<br /></p><p align="center"><br /></p><p align="center"><br /><br /><br /><br /></p><p align="center"></p>Hailey Lingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06310074941292711151noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4425584681413631230.post-73643613206477301912008-12-11T22:55:00.000-08:002009-01-11T20:25:17.674-08:00Finding Christmas<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_4QJluZcnT4CVYpqSgN9CnbNuv3PdrsYcvoW9mWp-f5OkyboMP_hHr0HlRK-NaFApKhPZzQmGcnHtAlNb4KarTnLJUQExqzATrrhdehbsxFWbEKLZdCe3Ajog2G6a4AQPn6xdYkpmRx8u/s1600-h/DSCF0299.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278806728117112418" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_4QJluZcnT4CVYpqSgN9CnbNuv3PdrsYcvoW9mWp-f5OkyboMP_hHr0HlRK-NaFApKhPZzQmGcnHtAlNb4KarTnLJUQExqzATrrhdehbsxFWbEKLZdCe3Ajog2G6a4AQPn6xdYkpmRx8u/s320/DSCF0299.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />Most years Christmas comes in quickly with it's smells of cinnamon, glowing lights, Santa suits, ringing bells and falling snow (not to mention the Christmas Decor going up before Wyatt can say Trick or Treat). This year it has seemed like Christmas kept eluding me. I could see that the spirit of Christmas was about, floating above each beautifully lit home, but for some reason it felt as if I was only a spectator of the much anticipated event. This was disappointing for me because Christmas is my favorite holiday. Desperately I began concocting ways to "catch" the Christmas spirit. I had begun recording and watching Christmas movies off ABC Family and the Hallmark channel like a seasoned DVR pro. Sounds of Noel, Rudolph and Joly Ole St. Nick began to fill our home and my car. I began burning candles of the smells of the holidays. Still to my chagrin and utter disbelief the Grinch was the only one residing here. I felt as if I was upon my own hilltop looking down on Who ville jealously watching the happenings of Christmas going on without me. You know the part in the end when he gets stumped and can't figure out why everyone was so darn happy and singing none the less, well I think I had one of those moments myself. I was not doing any of the right things to bring in the spirit of Christmas. Sadly I must admit I think I had left the most important part out. Those are all of the things I enjoy doing at Christmas, but not my favorite parts only icing on top of the cake. I had yet to do one family oriented activity. I had forgotten that the feeling of Christmas does not come from all the glitter, hustle and bustle, but from the love we feel for our friends and family and most of all our Savior, Jesus Christ. Determined to fix that and realizing that the one thing I was missing to start off my Christmas right was the family Christmas tree outing. We always get our tree the day after Thanksgiving and this year we postponed it because my mom was gone. (She ended up getting an artificial tree, but that's a whole other blog). The minute we hit the road on our way up the winding mountain I instantly began to feel as if Christmas may still come to 6 Napias Street. Jason was a trooper. He didn't grumble once even though I kept yelling STOP that's the one and then I would come back and say it was defective on one side. It was an awesome day even though I had forgotten to bring the can opener to open the chili and we had to smash it against a rock and pry it open with a window scraper. Nothing was going to ruin that day for me. So, the point to my long winded story. I did find Christmas, atop a snowy mountain surrounded by people I love eating chili and drinking cocoa. To quote Dr. Seuss "It came without ribbons, it came without tags, it came without packages boxes or bags. Christmas can't be bought from a store. Maybe Christmas means a little bit more." That night, Wyatt put on his Santa hat and played my little elf and called me Mrs. Claus and Dad Santa (who was sleeping on the couch might I add). Come to find out after we got it home my tree was a little skimpy on one side, but with a little love from Wyatt and me, our Charlie Brown tree gave us the chance to find Christmas.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcrF2pPNEwrmYGCCD1LYZWruWpLow1SZ8K04cR1M7JQZDriVS0kmuRnfQlkP5II0EQi-RahkimWAhB6inwMgixMbhPPbBBSOGSUIhYadXLSBnHxyOK0sGAfOim1Q8FO4GsQIpE-fCYcMx7/s1600-h/DSCF0272.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278804086848511106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcrF2pPNEwrmYGCCD1LYZWruWpLow1SZ8K04cR1M7JQZDriVS0kmuRnfQlkP5II0EQi-RahkimWAhB6inwMgixMbhPPbBBSOGSUIhYadXLSBnHxyOK0sGAfOim1Q8FO4GsQIpE-fCYcMx7/s320/DSCF0272.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWdS-w6cEfrhcC7sxwfSQsRKu7bbFXIjsYcq94h9rqVq-vQY4SsOAJbbOiikxRRy0fQ8Jla6BBZzC3eL26eCq3d9ADOj9aDLqEAK0A6J7tlIFel_axDF4BRiTgEUhFfwSLK2ZWmkcvhMvP/s1600-h/DSCF0267.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278804084113764562" style="DISPLAY: block; 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MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXOkXeISFBNqEXgKmr0n-QYjA2w8NJ7tSbUJNpMtIMuXiLrHbw9P9lURPlAd-cyZeM0PbzvpnWDBAO2DRsGJ2vUGevU8AxcsHY_-s-RKfotTJ-dut4Ja7CvgsrRI3ZUMqc8dJahO0tvsZs/s320/DSCF0275.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqOxRjr8iGQPljNuPvVtpI3F4BjmShZYeqSTfuHt-LVnUgTjU2WR8hRy7eUrSofeagyVEQyQNUOaY4VU7kQR_9NQzSh6WoTRKtNgnZ2kolAkbnY9RPkr-MFUJwd1i92XXvx_OS48UtzxbV/s1600-h/DSCF0271.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278806075318137298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqOxRjr8iGQPljNuPvVtpI3F4BjmShZYeqSTfuHt-LVnUgTjU2WR8hRy7eUrSofeagyVEQyQNUOaY4VU7kQR_9NQzSh6WoTRKtNgnZ2kolAkbnY9RPkr-MFUJwd1i92XXvx_OS48UtzxbV/s320/DSCF0271.JPG" border="0" /></a>Hailey Lingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06310074941292711151noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4425584681413631230.post-39083995886540037452008-12-11T22:31:00.000-08:002008-12-11T22:51:42.332-08:00I'm Alive!Okay, so I know I haven't posted anything since forever ago, but I just thought I would let everyone know...I'M ALIVE! I am not always present mentally but physically I'm still around. Let's see....what's been going on. Well, I started a new job at the senior center. I am their new site manager. It has a big title, but it's the easiest job I've ever had. I enjoy being around the elderly people. If you're having a crappy day, they are sure to pick you up. Where else can you go and be the best looking one there? <br /><br />Mostly I have disappeared from the blogging world lately because we are going through infertility treatments again. We decided to take a break for a few months, but we are back at it. Almost every waking moment I have revolves around my body, which day it is, what medicine do I take or inject, traveling to and from Idaho Falls for ultrasounds, and to Boise for the IUI treatments (fancy word for artificial insemination). Physically it is not that bad, tiring at times having to travel to IF three times in one week, but stubbing my toe is more painful. Emotionally it is a whole other matter. Jason says he's never seen someone go from laughing to yelling to crying in less than a minute. I'm blaming it all on the ramped up hormones. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. For a while I just didn't have anything nice to say, but I've decided that it is easier to share what is going on than to act like everything is always hunky dory. This was our first try doing the IUI and it didn't work. Each month it is always hard to hear, but this last month I think I took it the hardest. I'm good now. Ready to put my shoulder to the wheel again. Mostly I just wanted to thank everyone for their prayers and their kind words of encouragement.Hailey Lingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06310074941292711151noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4425584681413631230.post-81678365358170150892008-10-20T22:35:00.000-07:002008-10-20T23:04:45.999-07:00My Love Hate RelationshipWho knew that something I hate so much could also make me feel so good. Well maybe good is not the exact term I would use. See this is how it goes. Three times a week I literally drag myself to my Aunt Lisa's fitness class. It starts out something like this. In the morning, I wake up around 7:30 usually in a pretty good mood and then I realize what day it is. Then I have an argument with myself about whether to be tortured for an hour or not. I never seem to win. Unfortunately my "self" can be pretty persuasive. I then go through about a half hour of butterfly nerves because I know what is looming ahead of me, nothing short of Chinese water torture in my book. You would think by now I would get over that. I've never been an athletic fitness kind of gal, maybe that is where my apprehension comes from. All I can say is thank goodness I don't have time to think much while we are going through the routine, because I would find myself looking at the clock every thirty seconds. To my utter surprise and relief Lisa says the magic words about it being time to cool down and to keep your hands below your heart. No problem, seeing how my arms feel like jello and I don't think I could do another "quick feet" to save my life. If a person got marks for wiggling their butt, I would totally score, because by the end of class I can't seem to pick my feet up off the floor. All I can seem to do is try to pretend I am doing quick feet while I am really doing some sort of butt jive. Jump you say. Ha Ha Ha which could almost turn into crazy hysteric laughter from exhaustion.<br /><br />So where does the love come in you say? Well to my chagrin I must admit, working out does have it's benefits. I'm starting to love the way I feel after a workout. I'm more tired at night so I go to bed earlier (most of the time), and that has made me be more of a morning person. I love the fact that I can get more done before noon than at any other time of the day. But mostly, I love that I'm still alive (so far) and that my clothes are fitting looser and my husband said I was scrumptious the other day. Who knows, maybe by the end of my so called torture somehow it will morph me into a woman stronger on the outside but more importantly on the in.Hailey Lingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06310074941292711151noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4425584681413631230.post-89512829595875026612008-10-17T18:58:00.000-07:002008-10-17T22:34:56.486-07:00Going Through Some Changes!Okay so now that I'm blogging I didn't like the looks of it, so I've figured out how to create my own background. Boy that was a pain. Anyways, for those of you who are wondering what happened to all my stuff.....well I had to erase it because for some reason I couldn't get rid of my old background. Thank goodness I only had two posts. So if you return and keep seeing changes, you can thank my computer illiteracy.Hailey Lingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06310074941292711151noreply@blogger.com6