tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49228143173449097602024-02-20T21:16:32.284-08:00Love Life - Our Grand TourLexhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209362397369062854noreply@blogger.comBlogger331125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4922814317344909760.post-42693743948408690072017-12-04T09:02:00.001-08:002017-12-04T13:18:11.149-08:00How to be accepted by Oxford<div class="p1">
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>I don’t know if this is an Oxford phenomena or a British phenomena or a complete figment of my wishful imagination but I feel genuinely respected for my chosen occupation over here. I am a homeschooling mother. When I say that back at home I (almost) never fail to sense the rush of assumptions flying into the mind of my conversation partner. I feel the need to start qualifying what I mean by “homeschooling” almost immediately - trying to perceive which set of misconceptions that other person has. Homeschoolers are all as different from each other as we are from people on a more traditional educational path. The Why, How and What of our particular Homeschool widely varying from family to family. So, most assumptions will be inaccurate to some degree or other.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>Here in England, I announce that my husband is writing a book while on sabbatical and I am home-educating my six kids and I always experience this sense of being reverenced, not simply respected. The first couple times it happened I was really surprised but it’s getting positively common now. They treat me like I’m a fascinating specimen from the future and the past simultaneously. They are immediately impressed and genuinely interested and curious. Then they start thanking me for my presence at their event - amazed that I would find the time and energy to attend and would deign to consider their event worthy of me. They give me a tremendous benefit of the doubt by assuming that I know what I’m doing and that my kids are better off for it. I’ve been told, “You homeschoolers really, really love your children.” A coach at my gym practically followed me around the gym in order to ask me questions because he’s so convinced that he will homeschool his own children (at the wise old age of what looked to be 16). And, I haven’t felt judged once.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>I have a feeling that my foreignness is actually a help in this instance. The British have their own sets of assumptions about homeschooling because there are so few people here doing it that it’s really a choice to swim against the stream. British homeschoolers have an anti-establishment flavor for sure. But no one<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>assumes that about me because I’m from The States where homeschooling is so much more of a force. It’s like I’m from the land of the vanguard of a movement and they want to hear more from me. It seems that they think of me as an expert in my field.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>Like all moms at home, I am not accustomed to receiving a lot of outside praise or acknowledgement and mostly, I’m OK with that. But, I have to admit - it’s kind of nice to be treated like an expert. Even though I know exactly what a bumbling mess I really am…perhaps most experts in their field question their own abilities? I’ve heard many, many, many a college professor share during their first few years at the University that they feel like frauds. Like someone is about find them out and expose the truth. The truth being…that they don’t know it all.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>Today was the first time I’ve been downtown when there were large numbers of gowned students and professors in their academic garb, hats and all. Gowns flowing and little clusters of students discussing heady things (I assume). You can tell how far along in their studies the students are by the length of their gowns. Oxford has 23,000 students and only 11,000 undergrads so most of these people are at the end of their academic pursuits and since they are here you can assume that they are pretty top-notch. At night the academic garb comes off and there are no end of groups of young people roaming about in gowns and tuxedos. I don’t know the why or wherefore of the continual black-tie dress but the atmosphere definitely feels rarified. These people are the cream of the crop from all over the world in dozens of different fields.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>I think that’s why it’s so surprising and pleasant to feel genuinely respected by them. I am rubbing elbows with academics who are succeeding at the top university in the world and are likely to be leaders in their fields…and they are fascinated and admiring of me. Sincerely and genuinely! So, for all the moms of larger families everywhere who feel like their work is unnoticed, ignored, questioned and frowned upon…there’s a body of scholars over here who would be mouth agape at your accomplishments and would want to know more.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>Congratulations on your acceptance by Oxford.</span></span></div>
Alexishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06954534617276979985noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4922814317344909760.post-69418288690216313432017-11-28T08:41:00.000-08:002017-11-28T09:25:37.454-08:00The Hypocritical Christmas Card Family Photo - or maybe not…<div class="p1">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I take pictures for one overarching reason: I love memories. I love capturing people’s special moments but I love capturing their regular moments even more. This is why I’m so happy about the phone-camera phenomena - now I can photograph a mundane trip to the grocery store without looking like a stalker. I mean, I hear you on the excess. As The Great Jim Gaffigan says, “I have more pictures of my kids then my father ever looked at me!”</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">But you know? I don’t care. Someday it won’t seems excessive to have thousands of captured moments from my past life - it will be all I can remember. My memory is not so great without pictures (blame it on mommy-brain or overuse of the iPhone, or genes: thanks mom!). For me, taking a picture is the easiest way to remember something. If it also looks beautiful or tells a story then, bully for that! I see my photography habit as sort of a photo-journalism project with my family and friends as the object. I’m capturing moments that hopefully paint a picture or tell the story of our lives. Narrative is always important. It’s all part of forming an identity, both for ourselves and for our kids. We are living a story and telling it as you go is important for all of us.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">The kids look back at pictures and then they “remember” moments from the pictures. Sometimes the pictures tell a very different story then their internal experience of the event. Take, for example, the ubiquitous Christmas Card Family Photo. Everyone, EVERYONE, <u>EVERYONE</u> knows that getting those photos is the surest and shortest path to feeling like a hypocrite. We all know the stress of finding decent clothing, the never-ending brushing of long, tangled masses of young girl’s hair, aiming for decent light, the surly preteen, the threats to the tiny nose-pickers, and the holiday chaos and yelling that is behind everyone’s Christmas Card Photo. If you don’t know what I’m talking about then I don’t want to be your friend. I am tempted to have a stiff drink this year before trying to get a family photo because I get weirdly stressed about it. Like the Queen is coming to dinner.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8pUoo-c_6Qz8pI3IzNdlrWe6tmQL_u2N-3pvXn7pFMDDwweqQMn3c4HCWWsoS91WBm_q1fk19mTYupAhszFoqq6NMoaR5XfbZvddTk-qMntsVOxQ_Yld8TCVh_FCT1Bt1HuUUtcr6Wbg/s1600/20161105-DSC_7676.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="742" data-original-width="1600" height="185" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8pUoo-c_6Qz8pI3IzNdlrWe6tmQL_u2N-3pvXn7pFMDDwweqQMn3c4HCWWsoS91WBm_q1fk19mTYupAhszFoqq6NMoaR5XfbZvddTk-qMntsVOxQ_Yld8TCVh_FCT1Bt1HuUUtcr6Wbg/s400/20161105-DSC_7676.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Allow me to point out a few things: My oldest child is wearing the shorts he wore to soccer AND his soccer shin guards and cleats because he flat out refused to change more then his shirt. His arm is broken too but that's not because of surlyness. My youngest isn't picking her nose but she is sticking out her tongue. Thomas and Rosie were insane and made silly faces in 25/30 pictures I took to get this done. My sweater is all bunched up and crazy because the remote shutter I was using didn't have the range we needed (#largefamilyproblems) and so I had to run forward four steps and then back four steps everytime I took a picture. I was sweating and looked like I was running in most of the pictures.</td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">It is tempting to look at your picture and think, “What a bunch of phonies.” So, we see our Christmas card photos, our vacation photos, our birthday photos as a “Highlights Reel” and begin to believe that the photos are not reflecting reality. Phony, phony, phony. And maybe they are partly phony. Maybe we should also start to take pictures of the nose-picking, the dirty dishes and the yelling but I think that there’s a better lesson here. I think that we often miss the REALITY of the beauty of our family’s life because we are so stuck in the subjective experience of living with said family. And it’s rarely as happy-feeling as it looks in pictures. However, in another way, those same idealized pictures are reflecting a reality that is MORE real then our negative feelings in a given moment about our family.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">I don’t know about you, but my feelings are often a bunch of liars. I hope to someday have feelings that I don’t have to work so hard to align with reality (an ability or trait we can call maturity or holiness) but until that day comes I have to face the fact that my feelings only reflect a small part of reality. For example, my feeling of frustration with my children because they continue to wrestle loudly while I’m cooking dinner does not reflect that if anything happened to them it would shatter my world. That I would saw off my right arm to save them. That I have ordered my entire life around being their mom and that I live and die for them daily in small ways. My frustration with their loudness, while real in itself,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>is just a small, small slice of the reality of my love for them and yet…it often overwhelms my sense of the bigger picture.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">So, the “phony” family picture is actually of great service to me. As my internal feelings during an event fade and take their proper place in the larger fabric of my life I have these pictures that reflect the reality of that moment: an imperfect family, feeling a lot of feelings (some right and real, some false and phony) together. Together in love. That is the realest reality. Thank you, Christmas Card Family Photo.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">I get a smattering of friends asking me for advice about cameras, lenses, editing and while I have very limited information and skills I have managed to cobble together a “system” in the last couple years that is working for me - both to capture moments, organize them and then print/share them. I figured I’d plop my system down here. The more you are like me then the more helpful this will be. By, “like me”, I mean: A busy person. Some downtime in the evenings a couple nights a week to watch Netflix or something. Not destitute but also not having loads of money to pour into a hobby. Some interest in gaining a skill and willing to set aside a few weeks of evening time to learn. Keep in mind…youtube is your BFF in the world of photography.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><b><span style="font-size: small;">7 Steps to Drastically Improve Your Photography:</span></b></span></div>
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<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Buy camera body and lens (my equipment is listed below but things change fast. Just know that whatever camera you get you will probably love it. Real cameras are so great these days).</span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Watch youtube video on how to choose your particular camera’s focus point yourself and start doing that manually. This is dramatically increase your accuracy and your composition.</span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Watch youtube videos on the exposure triangle and get your head around what it takes to get out of the automatic setting.</span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Shoot in aperture priority for a while - focusing on controlling just your depth of field and letting you camera decide the ISO and shutterspeed. Stop here if you like. Your pictures will be wildly improved and you will probably be satisfied.</span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">If you want to shoot in manual it takes a lot of practice, a lot of mistakes but be guided by the light meter in your viewfinder. Google for more details.</span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Start shooting in RAW if you are able to do any editing. If you aren’t able to do any editing then still shoot in RAW. You never know when you are going to want to edit something. Storage space is cheap these days. Don’t be afraid of the file size. External hard drives are the answer.</span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Simultaneously to steps 1-6, buy Lightroom Classic CC (or try the new one…I know the classic and am still using it). Buy a course (I got one from Udemy) on how to use Lightroom. Spend some evenings learning how to use it. Your pictures and organization will never be the same (see below for details). I wouldn’t rely on youtube at the beginning for help with Lightroom - those worthy folks give slivers of information and what you need at first is a comprehensive overview - especially if you are “low-tech”, like I am. Youtube is good for specific troubleshooting once you understand the software foundations.</span></span></li>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Equipment</b>:</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">I’m assuming that, though the phone cameras continue to improve and make capturing daily life so much easier, you have decided you want a big kid camera too. I got a refurbished D7000 for about $400 on Amazon. Works great. The 7000 series is Nikon’s "in-between series". It’s not entry-level but it’s not professional either. It was an investment but one that I’ve found very much worth the step up from entry-level. The biggest seller is the higher ISO which makes lower light pictures possible (Christmas morning, birthday candles, dark churches, etc.) without the dreaded flash. But there are other nice features that you can check out if you’re interested (or ask me).</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">The lens I use the most is a 35mm 1.8 (refurbished on Amazon around $200). This is the equivalent of the “Nifty Fifty” on a crop-sensor camera (google Nifty Fifty for why you NEEEEEED this lens or it’s equivalent). The rooms in my house are small and I found that using the 50mm I could never get enough of the room or my people in the frame. There is no zoom on this lens but that’s what cropping after the fact is for.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Editing and Organizing:</span></b></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span><i>Organizing</i></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">This is key. Because of the “excess” of pictures that we are now taking. Organization is critical or we will drown. 13 years ago when I had my oldest I used to take a few hundred pictures a year. Now, with iPhones and digital cameras and a tribe of darling children to photograph, a light month is easily in the several hundreds of pictures range. And just forget about December or July (vacation months). I currently have about 52,164 pictures on my (external) hardrive. Organized by year and month from 1981-present. Do I sound proud of that? Because you BET I AM! Darn-tooting proud.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">For both organizing and editing I am using Lightroom Classic CC (an Adobe product). It costs $10/month (all hobbies have some cost but it still hurts a little. Truth is though, it is a STEAL of a deal when it comes down to it) but you also get photoshop with it and other things. If I ever stop paying for it monthly I only lose the ability to use the program for editing. Alllllllll the organizational tools will still be available to me and will never get erased (keywords, face recognition, categories, location mapping, metadata, etc.). So I don’t feel anxious about starting a system that will become obsolete soon.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Editing with lightroom as been nothing short of photog-life changing.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">*****I have my hands full.***** Everyone tells me all the time and you know, they are right. I do not really have time to “get it right the first time.” Good for all the photographers who have time to put the correct filter on for sunsets. “Rah-rah” for those who can get the shutter speed just right for that soccer game. “Booyah, baby!” to those who can switch lenses for that wide-angle shot in the cathedral.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">I will be next to you just sliding in here for two seconds between potty breaks, wiping sticky-finger-prints from my lens with a baby wipe and snapping an under-exposed shot of my kid mooning the whole world because she didn’t put underwear on this morning.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">I am not going to get it right the first time. I am shooting in manual mode (because it really is way better then auto), and still getting it wrong more often then not. With a decent set of editing software though I can save the picture. And most importantly, I fix it when the kids are down for the night. I have a glass of wine and some reruns of Parks and Rec on Netflix and I edit. I still caught the moment. It still looks better then it would if I’m been shooting on auto. As I mentioned above, shooting in RAW makes this editing process really really remarkable. Especially when moving in and out of sun and shade or inside and outside, you are bound to make a lot of exposure mistakes. Shooting in RAW allows me to recover so much of what I lose in those mistakes.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">The name of the photography game for me is helping my family relive moments and see our happy reality in spite of our daily strife. To develop the narrative. So, to do that I need to actually be displaying our pictures somehow. I have two quick and easy solutions for busy moms who realize they have not printed any pictures in the last 5 years. Or maybe just for those couple of years with 4 under 5 that we refer to as, “The Lost Years.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">1. Digital Frame. Just plop a bunch of pics on an SD card and put it into a digital frame. You can update it frequently or not but the kids will LOVE it and they will get to see those pictures you’ve been taking and they’ll even be tricked into thinking that they are having some screen time. Better then more Curious George.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">2. For printing, <a href="https://chatbooks.com/" target="_blank">Chatbooks</a> is the name of the game for ease…not for quality. Try another service for real heirloom quality books. But for quick, cheap, reliable books there’s nothing like Chatbooks. I get my pictures from my real camera to my phone through Lightroom Mobile (comes with your Lightroom subscription) and then I “favorite” them on my phone and they show up in my mailbox, in a book, with no other work by me. The kids pour over them and carry them to church or the store and sometimes they get ripped and stained but it doesn’t matter because they are cheap and easy and my kids are getting that opportunity to remember and laugh and know that they are part of a family that loves them and values them.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Accessories:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></b></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span><i>Bag</i></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">I love my <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Lowepro-Photo-Hatchback-Camera-Backpack/dp/B008O8EGOQ/ref=sr_1_6?ie=UTF8&qid=1511887626&sr=8-6&keywords=lowepro" target="_blank">LowPro camera backpack </a>for traveling and long outings. My back never hurts, even when I’ve been carrying around my camera all day. For less intense days out I just throw my camera into my purse.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span><i>Belt</i></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Ever lean over to kiss a boo boo and then your camera swings in and gives the kid a black eye? <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01CM63TNE/ref=oh_aui_search_detailpage?ie=UTF8&psc=1" target="_blank">This belt</a> is the solution for hikes or ventures where you want your camera out and at the ready but don’t want it flapping all the heck over the place. It’s also super cheap, especially when compared to specialty straps.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span><i>Remote</i></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Get one that has as long a range as you can afford. Otherwise you might find yourself running back and forth for the family portrait. Especially if you have a rather larger then average family.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span><i>Flashair SD Card</i></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">If your camera doesn’t have built in wifi then this card gives you it. You can send your pictures to your phone or computer from anywhere. I find this particularly helpful when I’m on a long drive from vacation. I can work on editing some pictures and post them to my family before I’m even home.</span></span></div>
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Alexishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06954534617276979985noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4922814317344909760.post-14347606010843082302017-10-26T09:11:00.001-07:002017-10-26T09:11:26.102-07:00Bummers, Bonuses, and Bumuses<div class="p1">
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<span class="s1"><b><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">BONUS</span></b></span></div>
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<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Castles (and history in general that is older then the Colonies).<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Palaces (not the same at all...I honestly hadn't really considered that before coming here)</span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Literature - so many of “our” classics are really “their” classics. It’s so amazing to see the places we’ve been reading about forever and see what the authors saw as they created their characters and worlds.</span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">No American news outlets - only what shows up on my Facebook feed</span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Free museums</span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Train and bus systems are awesome</span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Good, fresh bread is super cheap</span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Indian food...and all the restaurants in general. If there's one thing that the Burg doesn't do spectacularly well at it's food (unless you want to live off of crab dip that is).</span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Biking is super easy and normal here. It’s fun to just hop on the bike to run errands</span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">My new gym has way more classes available then my gym at home</span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Getting to go to Aquinas lectures at Blackfriars and hear Mass and sing Vespers with them</span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Tea and biscuits</span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Beautiful old buildings covered in ivy</span></span></li>
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<span class="s1"><b><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">BUMMERS</span></b></span></div>
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<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Can’t find any decent salsa. The only ‘salsa-ish’ thing that I’ve found is a Mexican spiced cooking sauce and it was not good (at long last found some tortilla chips though - with hummus they are amazing).</span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Hardly any homeschoolers around and everyone is pretty well plugged into schools for community I guess because there’s not much for school aged kids going on otherwise.</span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">The libraries here are…I don’t want to speak ill of my host country but…I don’t know where all those council tax dollars are going but they are not going into the libraries, that’s for sure. I was really counting on a rocking library system here to help with the schooling this year since getting books overseas was not easy. C’mon, Oxford! Get it together! The world expects more of you! Thank goodness for Amazon Kindle.</span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Shopping is such a chore. This bummer will gradually get better the longer we are here because they have almost everything that I want available in this country (unlike when we lived in Italy - don’t even get me started!) but I just can’t FIND it! I know that they sell say, an air mattress or peroxide for cleaning contacts or material for halloween costumes, etc, etc, etc. But I don’t know what <i>kind</i> of store would have it. Whenever I finally find something it makes sense but it always takes such work and googling and driving hither and yon and parking my giant vehicle to find the darn thing. The stores here just group things together slightly differently then we do. So we finally found air matresses at a bike/car store. It sort of makes sense to have a few camping things there but it’s not where I went first, or second or third. The grocery stores are the same way. They have everything, it’s just organized differently so…I find the whole thing exhausting and need to schedule a whole day if I need to pick up a few things. That will get better.</span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Aside from biking, it is really a pain in the puhtookas to get around here. We are 2 miles from Blackfriars and it’s a 20 minute drive without parking/walking. Parking is a beast, driving is a beast, a lot of the drivers are beasts. I do not think it is helping us that we have a French license plate since that’s where we rented the van from. On the other hand, John and I figure that when we make a driving mistake at least the French are getting the blame, not Americans. The French and English have been enemies much longer then we ever were so for them it’s really a lost cause anyway. If you just ignore that pesky War for Independence we really get on well with the Brits. May it always be so…Sorry French drivers.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Everyone wants to ask you about Trump and guns. I just can’t even…</span></span></li>
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<span class="s1"><b><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">HALF-BREEDS: THE BUMUS</span></b></span></div>
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<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Our van. It’s super new and cool looking. It has awesome skylights and GPS and keyless start and great gas mileage. It’s huge for England (8 seats). BUT it has only eight seats. That means that if two people are fractious they can’t be separated. And let me tell you, there are always two people who are fractious. So, small for America and for us and we can’t wait to spread out again. Also, annoyingly it is small but has a really terrible turning radius and makes parking the darn thing a huge pain.</span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Our house. We LOVE our house. Skylights, great location, beautiful kitchen, woodburning stove, room for guests. It’s just perfect. But we have to move out in December, right before Christmas. Finding the next house is not impossible and we have a few leads but none of them are as great as this one. So, we are trying to enjoy it while we can and not think about moving.</span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Food. Some things are way cheaper and some things are more expensive. So we will be eating a lot more ground beef (minced beef) here then chicken breasts. A good thing since apparently the doctors thinks Anthony is anemic (?!). Sausages are cheap cheap cheap. I finally figured out that they put a lot of wheat in their sausages and so it’s less meat, I think. Hence the cheaper price. Anyhow, I LOVE them and am so happy that we can eat them all the time.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-converted-space">The thing about Anthony reminds me about the National Health Service. On the one hand, thank goodness! Here we are and we can see doctors and dentists when we need to and unfortunately, we have needed to. On the other hand, the waits are long and they prescribe a LOT of antibiotics from my extremely limited anecdotal experience. Out of three doctors we've seen two of them did not do a thorough job checking out the problems/ordering up followup care/explaining the issues and the other one was perfect and I HEART her. She's my gal and she might regret being so trustworthy because I might be calling her a lot. </span></span></span></li>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">The next Bumus deserves it’s own pro/con list because it is the biggest reality we face day to day. It’s only a Bumus because it is temporary, it would be a Major Bummer if it was a longterm lifestyle choice. At least for me.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Almost No Community To Speak Of.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Bonus part of no community-<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><i>We have so much time together.</i> I am able to watch movies and read books with the kids like we used to when they were little (too little to remember most of it) and really build a family culture instead of always running out to different (great!) activities.</span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">We are able to enjoy each other and have all sorts of inside jokes.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">We can have routines that rarely get interupted.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">More time with dad around.</span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Less running around means better/healthier/more regular meals.</span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">More time with online friends (well, IRL friends but communication via the internet) who we miss in our regular life.</span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Almost no inflexible outside obligations. We could disappear tomorrow for three weeks and no one local would know. Hmmm…don’t tell any murderers out there that I said that.</span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Slower pace of life. At home in the Burg we are a pretty typical American family. Running here and there, in separate directions sometimes (though we homeschool so we are still together for large parts of the day, at least the kids and I are). It’s nice to take a break from that and know that all the fun things will still be there when we get back (because ultimately I wouldn’t drastically change our lifestyle at home - just tweak it maybe).<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">This is almost like going back to the earliest years of motherhood. When I was home all day long for the first time and I just had a little guy or a couple little guys and gals to keep me company. Any outings we chose to do out were purely optional. The difference is that I have all these bigger kids around and we can read and talk and cook and watch things together. It’s isolated but not really lonely this time around.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></li>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Bummer part of no community-</span></span></div>
<ul class="ul1">
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><i>We have so much time together.</i> Time to get on each other’s nerves and learn everyone’s buttons perfectly.</span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">We are both cooped up and also run ragged. It’s sort of a “feast or famine” in terms of activity. We only have a couple of regular outside things to break up the routines of homelife but we take these big-push day-trips to see incredible things. So, a lot of the time we either have cabin-fever or we are exhausted because of the degree of <i>umph</i> it takes us to get something awesome done.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">No opportunities to help people - to watch someone’s kid, to water the chickens when they are out of town, to pick up their kid from an activity, no making a meal for a family with a sick family member or new baby. True, these things “interrupt” my routines at home and I am enjoying have regularity of routine here - however - it is not good for me to have my life uninterrupted by the needs of those around me but outside my immediate family. It’s not natural. I really miss the tiny bit of helping I'm able to do when at home.</span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Other people are awesome. Friends truly make the world a much, much, much better place. Talking to a friend or running into someone in the grocery store can often banish the thundercloud that has been following me around all day at home. We miss our people. Friendship is a gift. <i>And you can’t make old friends quick.</i> Thank GOD this is temporary - I could never live like this longterm. I love my people! Maybe I'm more extroverted then I thought...</span></span></li>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">So, the moral of this story is that if my family and friends could come, start a Mexican restaurant, build some bigger roads, and bring a lot of books then we could make a utopia here. I don't think that's too much to ask.</span></span></div>
Alexishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06954534617276979985noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4922814317344909760.post-84443713248706855982017-10-17T09:14:00.000-07:002017-10-17T09:14:16.694-07:00The Dining Room Table<div class="p1">
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Since venturing out into the wider world I have found much joy, and sometimes comfort, in sitting down together around the dinner table. After such a rough, rough entry period my two happiest moments that next day were buying groceries at Aldi (oh the comfort of the familiar!) and then serving my family dinner and sitting down at one table to feast on food prepared by our own hands. It seemed to put all things that had gone awry back to rights.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPAv8N0JoWT56tW5SrAcF65LrH9Zq_tMmHLh0c1KrxMQlbhinBy0yROZ_oAckB4r66Jo5kDf0dyQ58C6vHcpi4BaaelVxdnMQ91RlfWsc4p62Y1UAx4aJ4jPLBaAMRsgdR9YPct-_ebIc/s1600/20170803-IMG_5029.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPAv8N0JoWT56tW5SrAcF65LrH9Zq_tMmHLh0c1KrxMQlbhinBy0yROZ_oAckB4r66Jo5kDf0dyQ58C6vHcpi4BaaelVxdnMQ91RlfWsc4p62Y1UAx4aJ4jPLBaAMRsgdR9YPct-_ebIc/s400/20170803-IMG_5029.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I was SO happy to be able to buy groceries in an economical way that I got a little choked up. I'm pretty sure that John didn't know until then just <i>how</i> deeply runs my love of frugality. I'm still not really over those $45 Icelandic croissants. I have never felt richer then handing over those 35 Euros and taking out bags and bags of groceries. Rich as an Aldi queen!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The kitchen was about the correct size for our 3 year old. She washed dishes to her hearts content.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-_VmaKZcwcQ3c_F_IS6dFgSjtYySFomN4c8KJhMct_hNslpEmjMYapBI45BPB_bSQ-cTC7x2q69lD_HbcnAX9Yon_09HHeq9NoonZaHq5B8-MWMnL8HISCoY4GsDxWFy43LGUvE86mAs/s1600/20170803-DSC_4597.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1600" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-_VmaKZcwcQ3c_F_IS6dFgSjtYySFomN4c8KJhMct_hNslpEmjMYapBI45BPB_bSQ-cTC7x2q69lD_HbcnAX9Yon_09HHeq9NoonZaHq5B8-MWMnL8HISCoY4GsDxWFy43LGUvE86mAs/s400/20170803-DSC_4597.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">But before dinner we made sure to have wine and cheese and bread. We were in France, after all. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZivkQscZHWtBlLHmhJlbEfaZdDGGpH0u4vZMkvRk4aUAc4i6TM5DosFRdmmhf6mAvJiJ78BiXyE-6TV5HsSnJ2SMo4w5A3Ue8X0eYj5DA7xJV93J-bnAJiuCGowIOhnEathDJkpvdhYQ/s1600/20170803-IMG_5054.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZivkQscZHWtBlLHmhJlbEfaZdDGGpH0u4vZMkvRk4aUAc4i6TM5DosFRdmmhf6mAvJiJ78BiXyE-6TV5HsSnJ2SMo4w5A3Ue8X0eYj5DA7xJV93J-bnAJiuCGowIOhnEathDJkpvdhYQ/s400/20170803-IMG_5054.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dinner and beauty can sooth much pain.</td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">I mean, foundationally, there’s the simple ability to provide sustenance for your little people. It doesn’t get much more basic then that. It took me almost no time (a couple of days only) to start feeling the stress and sorrow at knowing I couldn’t do anything to fill hungry bellies those first three days on the road (chaos and rushing being the culprits, not money or availability). Obviously, I do not equate our bad travel experience with true poverty or any such thing - that would be outrageous. I just mean to say that, even though the experience was short lived and was never dangerous, it was still a tremendously fulfilling moment to place a plate of their favorite food, hot and ready in front of them and then sit down together and be a family around a shared meal.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcB7W4K1N1RsbLjPwvCsfkkVg5IvMWHMtbItG4XWvBd_cTfN797FUFbnzkIdu5rJRtjylg8XLx36dn8LPdsYSJbiVnIOKFsXKeAuuUbkAzzXDY_XHw3Je8i8NOC1eYpMoxVYGl79yMdvg/s1600/20170803-DSC_4690.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1600" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcB7W4K1N1RsbLjPwvCsfkkVg5IvMWHMtbItG4XWvBd_cTfN797FUFbnzkIdu5rJRtjylg8XLx36dn8LPdsYSJbiVnIOKFsXKeAuuUbkAzzXDY_XHw3Je8i8NOC1eYpMoxVYGl79yMdvg/s400/20170803-DSC_4690.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seats for everyone! Pasta! Smiles! Filled to the bursting!</td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">Every house we stayed in, except one, had a big enough table to seat us all. And every time we sat down around it and ate something (even if that something was fish sticks and frozen peas) I gave such thanks, "Bless us oh Lord, and <i>THESE, THY GIFTS...". </i>It remained, has remained, one of my greatest takeaways from being so far from home. If we can sit down together at a table and share a meal, then we are rich. If we can sit down together at a table and share a meal, then we are at <i>home</i>. Even if that table will only be home for a day or for a week or for 90 days. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In Krakow, Poland - made it into our 9th country at this point. Pierogi and kielbasa was on the menu. Luckily that meal crossed the gap between old family favorite comfort food AND local cuisine.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMh9sxcK5Bz3FBxzNBxclBmoPnMVFGzqLiyoX-P9hI5VH2ESigSjyKHnksuyw1jQrQsW63hrUVRUjXq9L9glQPvB5uTQy35aFCPDwsDYQ9Y2vlxhuLDxPmNKZRCqpKEbZFaE20qFxgYMQ/s1600/20170822-IMG_6593.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMh9sxcK5Bz3FBxzNBxclBmoPnMVFGzqLiyoX-P9hI5VH2ESigSjyKHnksuyw1jQrQsW63hrUVRUjXq9L9glQPvB5uTQy35aFCPDwsDYQ9Y2vlxhuLDxPmNKZRCqpKEbZFaE20qFxgYMQ/s400/20170822-IMG_6593.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In Bavaria, Germany we had two tables that seated all of us. Although this one was surprisingly tippy.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJLwuYbK6uzjJMZEAJOFMRBA5acdSUFlFoF_c8pZ2mZAGkzzCU5229P2YUk_Mk-lKxtJllseYG0Qqi05_tO56j3XmfdRlKgc57pt_huUVEGIiWNtofOrHnBsj5kaI5SSvlIQnvUIS7-k0/s1600/20170826-DSC_7730.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1060" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJLwuYbK6uzjJMZEAJOFMRBA5acdSUFlFoF_c8pZ2mZAGkzzCU5229P2YUk_Mk-lKxtJllseYG0Qqi05_tO56j3XmfdRlKgc57pt_huUVEGIiWNtofOrHnBsj5kaI5SSvlIQnvUIS7-k0/s640/20170826-DSC_7730.jpg" width="422" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A feast of local desserts in Vienna while on the hunt for the famous Sacer Torte.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-YyEyKOIWqHUC5BCKX2xE9xP76vAr6fTOrTnIZvTzvn8wBTyA9HC4wt1RPRscjhxNKYvKMPiM_YTsFmHDvX8S_ylwmtiiNjQ19dPkmLgdjUrIlDv-Ys-t3w476tTHI8L75grEcn4Iu9I/s1600/20170820-IMG_6426.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-YyEyKOIWqHUC5BCKX2xE9xP76vAr6fTOrTnIZvTzvn8wBTyA9HC4wt1RPRscjhxNKYvKMPiM_YTsFmHDvX8S_ylwmtiiNjQ19dPkmLgdjUrIlDv-Ys-t3w476tTHI8L75grEcn4Iu9I/s400/20170820-IMG_6426.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Also in Bavaria, Germany. This table was plenty big enough for us but the light was better in the morning as they trickled down from bed to have some morning cereal.</td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">Dinnertime has become even more of an anchor in my life during this wild travel then it </span><i style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: medium;">consciously </i><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">was before. </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">My memories of childhood and adolescence center greatly around the dinner table though, if I think about it. Did my mom ever leave the kitchen? </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">I had a spy club. I kept notes in a notebook and kept track of comings and goings (some of which were very interesting in my drug-infested neighborhood in inner-city Detroit. If only the cops had my list of license plates they could have had a leg up on the crack-dealer’s main clientele. Had they been interested. Which they weren't). And I can assure you, spying on my mom was...predictable.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">She was in the tiny kitchen that was covered in white-painted pegboard and lined with pots, pans and spoons hanging from the hooks. Just like her father’s tools had hung in his shed when she was growing up. He had his tools and now she had hers. She would be washing dishes using her specific system of one bowl of soapy water and one bowl of rinsing water. In the morning she was making pancakes. Every day - no cereal in the Kresta home. They were half whole wheat and half white flour, an adjusted recipe from the More With Less Cookbook. A Quaker-compiled cookbook that several of my contemporaries are familiar with because of our Baby Boomer mothers. There was one day that she tried to pass off buckwheat pancakes on us as if it was an exciting new addition to our breakfast repertoire. When we acted horrified at the first bite she chuckled and shrugged like she’d known all along that wasn’t going to work but hey - nothing ventured, nothing gained.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><span class="s1">As for lunch, when I was somewhere in my early years of education I requested that she send me to school instead of being homeschooled. Knowing what I know now about the quality of the public schools in my neighborhood I’m sure that it wasn’t only high ideals that had inspired my mom to keep me home. When prodded a little further about my reasons for wanting to go to school down the street it was revealed that the driving force was my desire to have a lunch box and walk down the street. Since watching kids walk past the house with lunch boxes was the only first-hand experience I had of "school" I suppose it makes sense that I honed in on that as the thing I was missing out on by staying home. </span><span class="s1">My mother obliged and packed me a sack lunch. I took my little brother’s hand and we walked around the block and returned home - brimming with purpose and importance.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Dinner time was, at least in my memory, sacrosanct. One of my first memories is playing on the floor of the kitchen, smelling meat sauce simmering on the stove, wondering why I suddenly felt SO hungry, and hearing the bong, bong, bong of NPR. Based on the house we lived in then I couldn’t have been more then 2, or a young 3. My best friend growing up recently told me that whenever she would be over to play for the day it seemed like there was no food anywhere (we were never ones to have snacks handy, whereas at her house there was a veritable bounty of Jello and crackers available on demand) but then at dinner time, out of thin air would appear a piping hot delicious meal. She always thought of my mom as a sort of magician (she wasn’t wrong).<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">She made amazing things too. Pekora - an Indian dish was our favorite Family Game Night meal. Many Battleship Destroyers sank while us captains feasted above on Pekora. She made a Peanut Tofu dish that I chose several times for my birthday dinner. And no, I don’t like tofu any more then you do. She was always trying things from the Enchanted Broccoli Forest cookbook. I found this book recently in a second-hand shop and thought I’d pick it up for the sake of nostalgia. After flipping through it a bit I realized just how out of my league this book is. I’ll be sticking to Betty Crocker.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">I do not have any memories of running around in the evenings or eating out on a regular basis. Dinner was such a given. Mom would have dinner ready. To not have dinner ready or to scrounge around<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>or eat in front of a tv with something out of a freezer was such a strange idea that when I became a mom and talked to other moms about menu planning and cooking I had to ask them, “What do you <i>mean</i> you don’t cook every night? What do you eat if you don't cook?” Well, it turns out that I grew up in very rarified air - as regards the dinner table.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><span class="s1">As I grew older and had more outside evening engagements of my own and eventually moved out of the house my parents had dinner guests almost every night (the how and why being a little too long and complicated for this post). This was perhaps the highpoint of the Kresta Family Dinner Table. [Although, when we are all home for Christmas or summer and the table is crowded with my nieces and nephews and my children I’d be hard pressed to think of anything as better.] The food was amazing (I DON’T know how she did it. I really don’t.) and the talk was even better. Joyful, rowdy, interesting, and always engaging. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><span class="s1">On the road (as we were) and far from home (as we are), the dinner table has been a place of refuge from the changing scenery. It’s where I most feel like we are still ourselves even though everything around us looks different day to day. It is my anchor. I am certain that this anchor was given to me through the service of my mother who laid the foundation with dinner after dinner after dinner. She set me up to recognize "home" in the gathering at table. May I give that same gift to my children.</span></span></div>
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Alexishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06954534617276979985noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4922814317344909760.post-70557717721571602112017-10-13T13:53:00.002-07:002017-10-13T13:53:51.560-07:00Day 2 of Travail: The Crux of the matter<div class="p1">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1">So, I woke up on Day 2 to a strange smell. Definitely some sort of asian flavored food. I turned over to peek out the window directly next to my </span><span class="s2">rock</span><span class="s1"> bed and jerked back from the curtain with alarm. There was an older Asian couple sitting about 2 ft away from me in a screened in porch. They were loud. Really loud. That is probably why I was awake even though I was still dead tired. John was gone - having driven out to Oxford to pick up the Damnable Biometric ID Card. There was no coffee anywhere. There was no kitchen attached to our "apartment" and we were in the middle of a residential neighborhood in a London suburb. </span></span></div>
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It is important for you to keep this fact in mind. No coffee. Much of the next several hours of travail take place coffee-less. Some of you will know what I mean. I will be sure to remind you periodically. [COFFEE-LESS]. That is what the reminders will look like.</span></span></div>
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I stumble around, trying to make as much noise as possible showering and getting dressed. I turn on the lights and start trying to rouse children. Nothing doing. No one twitches a muscle. It's MY job to get them up and the bags ready to go so we can go pick up our Damnable Biometric ID Cards. This is the Proposed Timetable:</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">9:00 John returns triumphant from Oxford and we leave to pick up Damnable Biometric ID Cards (leave older kids at apartment bc car is too small? Do I need them WITH me? Oops. Didn't think of that).</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">9:30 John loads up luggage from house and drive to airport to drop off rental car. I get our 7 Damnable Biometric ID Cards and then take taxi with kids to airport while John drives rental car. We meet at the airport train station.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">10:00 Reconvened, we take the train to Paddington together from the airport.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">10:20 Take the Underground to another London station, Kings Cross/St. Pancras, to catch the dlltrain to Dover port.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">11:30 Catch Train to Dover</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">1:00 Get Taxi to Port</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">2:00 Ferry to Calais</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">4:00 Van picks us up (which we will have for 9 months)</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">5:00 Drive 3 hours to Normandy</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">8:00 Arrive in Normandy after a long day but it's all OK because we made it.</span></span></div>
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Somewhere in there I'm imagining breakfast and coffee and lunch and dinner will be obtained. I can't say that I've planned for bathroom time but hey…we are just “travelers” - there’s no time for bodily needs.</span></span></div>
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We start out strong. John is amazing and gets back near the appointed commencement time (with his card!) and me and the kids are...it's bad news. Some of them are still asleep. We are all furious and exhausted and no one's dressed and the bags aren't ready. OK. Oh well.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">I hop in the car with John, and the kids. ALL the kids. In a tiny, two door compact car. The babies are sitting on laps and the four others are stuffed in like Flopsy Bunnies in Mr. McGregor’s sack. I had spent the last part of my morning on the phone trying to get a taxi to come and pick us up but all of them were at least a half hour long wait and we didn't have that time. So - shove them in we did. </span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv6OS1qAHMxhH8-8_Hq6_3uSR752B5TNBGeACCZkoB65xLcBaRQhFDPtWK3GX5NrflXZcdP6IbszdNOluGDBHWDaf1Emz_8o8SaiU4px7MXuxQWwnHM5DZWbxxfzTPuvaf6byCYyRmC-o/s1600/20170802-IMG_4969.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv6OS1qAHMxhH8-8_Hq6_3uSR752B5TNBGeACCZkoB65xLcBaRQhFDPtWK3GX5NrflXZcdP6IbszdNOluGDBHWDaf1Emz_8o8SaiU4px7MXuxQWwnHM5DZWbxxfzTPuvaf6byCYyRmC-o/s400/20170802-IMG_4969.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's amazing what a "say cheese!" can do for a brief moment in time...except for Thomas and Gloria. Their faces don't lie.</td></tr>
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We drive to the Post Office for me to pick up our Damnable Biometric ID Cards and...Well, let's just pause here to give you an idea of what driving is like for John at this moment.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">1. Most obviously, it's on the "wrong" side of the road. This means that people pass on the right. The round-abouts (of which there are a tremendous abundance and variety - some connecting to each other like the olympic rings) all move clock-wise instead of counter clockwise. It means that making a right turn is actually the same as an American left turn - where to look for oncoming traffic is just mind-boggling. Overall, an absolute myriad of ways to get confused.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">2. It's LONDON. It's kind of like NYC driving (very aggressive but at least it’s fairly universal so you know what to expect) combined with DC driving (totally chaotic with no real system because no one is actually native there but people are always in a hurry and therefore angry). Plus, it’s tremendously congested.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">3. It's a standard transmission. This is extra-specially confusing because you have to use your left hand to shift gears instead of your right. Also, the shifting is all flipped around like a mirror image. So, you are operating the gearshift completely opposite as what your instinct tells you - WITH your left hand. No. We did not see that one coming.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">4. Your wife is freaking the heck out.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">5. Your kids are jet-lagged, hungry and incredibly squashed.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">6. This is all super illegal.</span></span></div>
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So, we are trying to get to this post office. Post offices here can apparently be anywhere. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">A convenience mart. A grocery store. A gas station. Anyone and anything can be a post office. So, finding the one we were looking for is nearly impossible. We get to the correct neighborhood but there's roadwork on the street that this mysterious postoffice is on and the street is completely shut down. So, John drops me off with the children. We start walking toward where I think the post office is and then I realize that I DON'T HAVE THE PASSPORTS. I chase John and hail down the car. We all pile back in to drive another harrowing drive to the apartment. We pull up in the driveway and I get out and...oh my gosh. I DID HAVE THE PASSPORTS. [COFFE-LESS] They were in a really special, safe place in my backpack. OK. (“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”)<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Back in the car. But not before we tell the Asian people that we are not going to be checking out in time (no idea if they understand us). And calling the train company to tell them that we will be missing our train. By paying a change fee we switch our train tickets to “flexible” tickets and hope that we can somehow still make it to the ferry on time even by a later train. THE RUSH IS ON. Another absolutely harrowing drive back to the postoffice neighborhood and John drops the kids and me off and speeds back to the house to load up the luggage and return the rental car to the airport. I have arranged with a cab company to pick me up in 30 minutes and take the rest of us to the airport. Because getting these Damnable Biometric ID Cards can’t take longer then a half hour.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">We file up the street. Me and my procession. We are looking for this post office. We file up the street. We file down the street. We file up the street. [COFFEE-LESS] There a McDonalds! There is FOOD at McDonalds (if you want to fact-check that statement, feel free. However, at this point, gum off the ground could have been considered food) and COFFEE!!! I made a mental note and planned on popping back after the postoffice. Some kind Indian immigrant must have recognized my bewildered Fievel Mousekewitz expression and showed me the post-office. There’s a bit of a line but whatevs, we made it! I’m a hero! Do you see me?!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">We creep up closer and closer. It’s probably about 15 minutes of waiting in line and, mercifully, the jet lag was working in my favor. The kids are slumping against any surface that will hold them up. Bleary-eyed and almost completely silent. The little ones fall asleep in their strollers. I’m hoping to get the young, friendly, efficient looking woman behind the counter. No such luck. I draw the surly, can’t-be-bothered, won’t-be-rushed older gentleman behind the bulletproof glass. Fine, whatever. I’m still a hero.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">The kids clamber around me, sliding down the wall until they are all in a pile on the floor dozing. He takes his time. Each card in in a separate envelope. He is oh.so.deliberate. He scans. I sign things. He checks passports. I’m can feel sweat dripping down my back. My phone starts to ring…super weird since no one except John has my number. I answer the call and can’t understand a single word being spoken.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I’m thinking it’s a wrong number and then I decipher the word, “taxi”. Oh my gosh. It’s been at least 30 minutes at this point, although truth-be-told I’m trying to just “be in the moment” because the whole time-table thing is such a disaster that I can’t even go there. I explain that I’ll be out soon. 5 minutes, maybe 10. He is not amused. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Ten more minutes go by. Mr. Surly has heard the entire call but doesn’t even flinch. He is in no hurry. Another call from the cabby. Another stream of frustrated sounds come out - none of which I can understand except “McDonalds”. OK, great - meet you there. I’m feeling like less of a hero now even though I have all of the Damnable Biometric ID Cards.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">We file back out of the store that is also a postoffice. The kids are drowsy and asking for food but have really been amazing all morning. It’s been truly awful and I’m hella impressed. I find the annoyed cabby who is clearly not going to take it well if I bring up the possibility that I go and buy my children breakfast at this McDonalds so I silently say a sad farewell to the possibility of acquiring food and coffee at this time.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">He drops us off at the airport where we are waiting for John to show up with the luggage after he drops off the car. It starts raining. We run inside of the terminal. I have a mild case of PTSD come upon me at the sounds of the airline announcements and the sight of luggage trolleys. Apparently the kids respond the same way because before John appears we have kids screaming, punches thrown, and bloody noses (that is not hyperbole). Every single child is furious with every other child about something.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>6 kids x 5 siblings = 30. That is 30 tension-filled relationships. Throw me in there too, for good measure, that brings us up to 42. I look out of the door and there’s John. Carrying ALLLLL the luggage. Four rolling suitcases, two camping beds, two boosters and his backpack. Everyone feels appropriately bad for him and rallies to help. It is beautiful what a little compassion can do to a fractious group of people. Never be afraid to be the weak one or the needy one because being the helper is often what other people need the most. We reconvene as a team.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Heading down to the catch the train the kids start begging for water. We have no water. They also need to go to the bathroom. There is no bathroom in the station - you have to go back to the airport. OH WELL. Not happening. Hold it, friends. We exit the train at Paddington Station. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Head directly to the bathroom. Loooonnnngggg queue. Apparently the turnstile is broken and so people aren’t able to pay. Oh bloody, stinking heck. Pay toilets. I had momentarily forgotten. I haven’t had time to take pounds sterling out! After a fruitless search for another bathroom and/or ATM we remember the pounds that Becca gave us the night before we left! Glory, Hallelujah! YOU ARE THE BEST, BECCA! I say a prayer that at that moment someone blesses her with kindness. We head back down with the ziplock bag of coins. I have no idea which coin is which at this point and am clearly fumbling along with several small girls doing the unmistakeable dance of urgency and so someone in line tells me that kids go in free. Well! That’s great - just wish I’d known 20 minutes ago.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">After we are all relieved, we head back upstairs where John is waiting with…water! And…coffee! We drink deeply and gratefully.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">We have lost more time though, so the rush is back on. We get set in formation - each with a suitcase or stroller and our individual backpacks. John is the front and I’m the caboose and everyone else is in between. </span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBeqEYl9y9UK_aM09NmIPr7e4I9QHfgRH0knX-ZfaVwYHpywm-cZ7cZyqVPn125oX8CnSm_qyck_5cLRvq4qrhb-txFR0YaNPkV8z5sv6r2ky7XF5ianLTYiYPuIUQx35dS5dw8Ne8xaY/s1600/20170802-IMG_4981.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBeqEYl9y9UK_aM09NmIPr7e4I9QHfgRH0knX-ZfaVwYHpywm-cZ7cZyqVPn125oX8CnSm_qyck_5cLRvq4qrhb-txFR0YaNPkV8z5sv6r2ky7XF5ianLTYiYPuIUQx35dS5dw8Ne8xaY/s400/20170802-IMG_4981.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In formation!</td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">We head into The Underground. It’s a mess from the beginning. We try to get through the turnstiles and get stuck. There are SO many platforms that have no elevator to them - only stairs. There are so many people that we are inconveniencing. We have several changes and we are all so sweaty and hot from lugging luggage and strollers up and down stairs by the end that I think I’m crying off and on, though I can’t be sure because I’ve mostly blocked it out. People were kind and helped when they could and only one employee looked at us and sneered with clear disdain, “Well, THIS isn’t ideal.” Really? Is it not? Because THIS is what I had in mind the whole time. This is my dream European adventure.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfwPfPSxQWyJkRzv44V3Msy0-Ppp17l4Ca7cRWtYjK8DcQ8mio0mPI2SwmihpsrVKwLZM8rvwdj0tBuNqmEEe3r9TdoxFN4oFcTSOqZv0AXrqeuc-Tjgkjdh3QR6QnF2F56FgiE4ycfRU/s1600/20170802-IMG_4976.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfwPfPSxQWyJkRzv44V3Msy0-Ppp17l4Ca7cRWtYjK8DcQ8mio0mPI2SwmihpsrVKwLZM8rvwdj0tBuNqmEEe3r9TdoxFN4oFcTSOqZv0AXrqeuc-Tjgkjdh3QR6QnF2F56FgiE4ycfRU/s400/20170802-IMG_4976.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This picture is a perfect example of why we call Cece's attitude, "The Power of Positive Ce." She can switch from miserable to joyful on a dime. Sometimes a very perfectly timed dime. She sometimes sustains me in my hour of need.</td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">In spite of our rushing and huffing and puffing we have missed the train that would get us to the ferry on time. So it’s time for more phone calls. We change our ferry tickets to a later ferry. We call the van rental place and change our pickup time. We email the lady whose house we are renting in Normandy and tell her that instead of arriving at 8ish we are hoping to be there by 11. Money is just flowing through our fingers. And it’s raining. And, there’s been no food all day. We are out of water again. It’s now somewhere around 3:30. Well, they will probably have food on the train. Nope. That’s another 1.5 hours with no food and nothing I can do about it.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwJ6SdE1jjU5OYt7t-Jaz9yMMd4lKVheLLeJgD0gPiHkobDFb3cZLczgoURXEl6OLDDtZUFC41ORkiiJW5LcL3GFM-wYYx9CfP-pwQbjsvBuU_Vie1_Y3O78U24cIfQvgYRbDPEqvXwp4/s1600/20170802-IMG_4985.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwJ6SdE1jjU5OYt7t-Jaz9yMMd4lKVheLLeJgD0gPiHkobDFb3cZLczgoURXEl6OLDDtZUFC41ORkiiJW5LcL3GFM-wYYx9CfP-pwQbjsvBuU_Vie1_Y3O78U24cIfQvgYRbDPEqvXwp4/s400/20170802-IMG_4985.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hurry up! And wait. Hurry up!!!! And....wait.</td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Kids, I promise you food when we get the the ferry.” Well, no. We need to wait an hour before we get on the ferry in a building that has some vending machines but no ATM machine and we don’t have correct change for food from it. At least there’s a bathroom. These last bits of time where we are not moving but sitting and waiting (train and port) but have no food are the hardest mentally. I am feeling like such a schmo of a mom. I am not able to give them the most basic things.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mush, mush! Up the longest corridor ever.</td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">We finally get on the ferry and head directly to the cafeteria where there is what, in any other scenario, would be bland (at best), overpriced and greasy food but to us is an absolutely lavish banquet. We spent SO much money on that ferry and didn’t regret a single penny. </span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjatjbY6q2An3Mo2cWTW5zwkSAnL0pqBt7XtX1hDGnWB3R9vj1HxLlb814O5_QosWri4j5ZCRRU4BKP611mulK-y24wSysOL3XA11EnoXd04tr9ab__JgVMrzMK5Ga4yHvdZ0NkQthndb0/s1600/20170802-IMG_4995.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjatjbY6q2An3Mo2cWTW5zwkSAnL0pqBt7XtX1hDGnWB3R9vj1HxLlb814O5_QosWri4j5ZCRRU4BKP611mulK-y24wSysOL3XA11EnoXd04tr9ab__JgVMrzMK5Ga4yHvdZ0NkQthndb0/s400/20170802-IMG_4995.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes. That is a meat pie, mushy peas and fish and chips. "That's a right Bri-ish meal, right there, that is," according to the cafeteria worker.</td></tr>
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<span class="s1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><span style="font-size: small;">I cried a bit. </span></span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: small;">It felt so, so good to be able to provide my children with what they legitimately needed in that moment. It was dry, there was a bathroom, there were places to sit and mostly, there was water and food. We hadn't eaten more then a smattering of pretzels and croissants (and not much of those) in 54 hours. We were run ragged.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPUeVP7gsIi7F-shLzoBzVgQZTElR4iG1V-zdzsS3bFPsCL_8V4XtLiIKHNoieYFU4eaIXnqb92KiU63CV-m5rtimggNydyknk-9GWNax2CNoBBExVhEQGqhPBK_aKojOqPm3cfu52H8M/s1600/20170802-IMG_4993.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPUeVP7gsIi7F-shLzoBzVgQZTElR4iG1V-zdzsS3bFPsCL_8V4XtLiIKHNoieYFU4eaIXnqb92KiU63CV-m5rtimggNydyknk-9GWNax2CNoBBExVhEQGqhPBK_aKojOqPm3cfu52H8M/s400/20170802-IMG_4993.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dry! Sitting! Eating! Drinking! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOWfQLxznPI_M2ppDyWVL_NAJCL-TT08iyFrmKrhvabQ1pwH8n5IAAdlJIlQU05mVR11be_VJGoe2jDcoCmfxqTPQbk3BBAHV05msH2XxH1bGyLWGtAy1MeEoA5GQdwq2j8sxQjQEWEzg/s1600/20170802-IMG_4997.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOWfQLxznPI_M2ppDyWVL_NAJCL-TT08iyFrmKrhvabQ1pwH8n5IAAdlJIlQU05mVR11be_VJGoe2jDcoCmfxqTPQbk3BBAHV05msH2XxH1bGyLWGtAy1MeEoA5GQdwq2j8sxQjQEWEzg/s400/20170802-IMG_4997.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We even recovered enough to pull out our individualized travel guides/coloring books and mentally get excited!</td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">It was an incredibly good two hour respite for all of us. I wish that I could say that everything after that went swimmingly but it didn’t. However, having been fed, watered, and dried out, we all coped much better with the rest of the night.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Getting the van took an hour and a half and by the time we were going to start our three hour drive to Normandy we realized that our landlady was going to meet us there at (if google maps was accurate) 2 A.M. </span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0TyrzlN2w87u4jKw6as0e8n75llLxEXVkFUUGQSg4Qi3-QR28chug_qVvbFGZ1J9r0UeGGOwaZzfGRpbfSU61ZOB9vUL18Cx_FiTB8KC2LUOhUsZ4PEJ9lJssctPAEUpg2Jbj3DmO-ms/s1600/20170802-IMG_5009-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0TyrzlN2w87u4jKw6as0e8n75llLxEXVkFUUGQSg4Qi3-QR28chug_qVvbFGZ1J9r0UeGGOwaZzfGRpbfSU61ZOB9vUL18Cx_FiTB8KC2LUOhUsZ4PEJ9lJssctPAEUpg2Jbj3DmO-ms/s400/20170802-IMG_5009-2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This van represents freedom. We are so American. We are all about the open road.</td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">No way, even if we could do the drive ourselves (and John claimed he could) we would never ask that of her. So, we made one last cancelation phone call and told her we would find a hotel. We tried one place but they were full. We tried another place but they never even came to the door. We tried another place, we couldn’t get them to open the gate to drive into the parking lot. We tried another place that was full. Eventually we came upon this place called, “F-1 Hotel”. It was cheap and had rooms! John managed to finagle the automatic sign up machine outside to give us two rooms - it was amazing! But, the gate wouldn’t open for us to get the van through. There are apparently no humans who work at these F1 Hotels at night (the place turned out to be a scant step up from a Hostel) and so we were just sort of stuck outside on the street, having paid for the rooms. I was trying to prepare to climb over the high fence after parking the car is some parking lot a ways off. The kids were, I think, unaware of just how difficult it was proving to find a hotel, which was good. They were still reveling in the novelty of being in “private transportation” after the stress of public transportation. </span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWXC6l3D9S5PHWqLUMFHXnPNn7ZLngZZAI94VMiI5cU4e5omUJZmMPGnq8FOutD9jm91PaO_0lU6gZsF6LHQysMKEq9Iz_qf6y3VX-gQi29YqNzFBsc_j4tJL0xBWNrLvkVPBYWnDtcuM/s1600/20170802-IMG_5011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWXC6l3D9S5PHWqLUMFHXnPNn7ZLngZZAI94VMiI5cU4e5omUJZmMPGnq8FOutD9jm91PaO_0lU6gZsF6LHQysMKEq9Iz_qf6y3VX-gQi29YqNzFBsc_j4tJL0xBWNrLvkVPBYWnDtcuM/s400/20170802-IMG_5011.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This van was our home on wheels for 7 weeks. Now it's just our occasional use van.</td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Eventually another family opened the gate somehow and we drove in behind them, leaving the travail behind us.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">I cranked up the volume on the stereo and blared at top notch, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GvQkl7qa6RQ" target="_blank">“Going the Distance” from Rocky</a>. YES, I DID. We had done it. We had gone the distance. Welcome, to France. Welcome to your next seven weeks. </span></span></div>
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Alexishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06954534617276979985noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4922814317344909760.post-8731130619024108372017-10-12T08:59:00.000-07:002017-10-12T08:59:07.865-07:00Day One of Travail: The Never Ending Day<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: times, times new roman, serif;">This is a tale of traveling travail.</span><br />
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">I must begin this tale with a list of excuses. To do otherwise would be to allow more stupidity then I am already going to admit. And there’s a good deal of it to go around, have no fear. I will, in no way, come out looking like the brightest tool in the shed or the sharpest crayon in the box, regardless of these excuses. The list follows and will make no sense until you have read the post (feel free to skim and return to them later). Nevertheless - I am putting my excuses front and center.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">We had to book the houses for the road trip before detailed planning for the move to England (in January to be exact - think about renting a beach house on the coast - one must begin at least six months in advance to get something decent).</span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">We had to rent the van in France because it was thousands of dollars less expensive.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">We had no way of knowing about needing to pick up the identity cards until after we applied for them (instructions at the end of the process) and you can’t apply for them before a couple of months before your trip.</span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Googlemap time estimates in Europe are hours off. Much different then the States where they are more or less accurate plus or minus an car accident or two.</span></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">My husband thought of (thinks of) this tale as a tale of triumph. I think of it as a tale of mishaps and lost efficiency and a great deal of failure - of travail. But, we are still around and "what doesn't kill you it makes you stronger", so I guess he is righter then me.</span></span></li>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">OK - on to the stupidity and failure.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>On July 31st we awoke to the sound of waves in Rehoboth, Delaware. We had just finished 5 days with the best in-laws a girl could want. It was the perfect breather between packing up our home to prepare for our tenants and our 7-week European road trip which was going to culminate in moving into our Oxford home for 10 months. Around noon we packed up our few beach things, said our final goodbyes and drove 4 hours to drop off our van and catch our ride to the airport. </span></span></div>
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We took 2 medium suitcases, two small suitcases, two travel camp beds, two boosters, two strollers and a small army of backpacks and kindles. Got to the gate with no problem. It was the last time I’d feel like, “I got this. I am ROCKING this.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjidzcMSFPD-BhakydHw2jPevgGr4KRe_03r40kMKSw9sJrN09vx-4FPkU4EijR4psKnxKuzduTKAXdfsWx2alHs1YBExW7-lRoVxKMMzqpKEJi3xtLi2MNdVgy2qT9GBnS2gupBecRgSM/s1600/20170731-IMG_4781.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjidzcMSFPD-BhakydHw2jPevgGr4KRe_03r40kMKSw9sJrN09vx-4FPkU4EijR4psKnxKuzduTKAXdfsWx2alHs1YBExW7-lRoVxKMMzqpKEJi3xtLi2MNdVgy2qT9GBnS2gupBecRgSM/s400/20170731-IMG_4781.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Our flight left at 8ish on a Monday night. I passed out the Melatonin gummies I had packed for this trip while the kids answered to siren call of Icelandic Air’s inflight entertainment. I tried to sleep, I did. But IT WAS HAPPENING!!! I was going to Iceland! To England! To Europe! I was NOT packing up my house! That might have been the best part in that particular moment. The only kids who slept a wink on the flight were the two who also had fevers (because, <i>of course</i>…). So we landed in Iceland at 2:30 AM EST. (6:30 a.m. Icelandic time). Honestly, the entire Iceland situation is a blur of utter and complete exhaustion for me. </span><br />
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There was at least 1.5 hours of kids collapsed on the airport floor in a dead sleep while John hunted around for the strollers (that ended up being checked all the way through to London). So we were stroller-less and had no plans except to wander around Reykjavik and discover cool Iceland stuff (the tours we had initially planned on doing were all too long for our 10-hour layover). There was also very long walks in search of a bakery. When we found the bakery there was a line. When we ordered eight croissants and paid for them we discovered too late that it cost $45. No way were they that good. The rest of Iceland for me was spent just trying to keep putting one foot in front of the other, carrying a small child or two and keep other kids moving. There isn’t a coffee or a 5-hour Energy strong enough to deal with that degree of tired.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">I have pictures of Iceland that are beautiful and wonderful<br />However, this is the internal story, not the external story.<br />And these pictures are more accurate a portrayal of the experience<br />even though that does not reflect the awesomeness that Iceland is.</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"> </span></td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>Somehow we made it onto the next plane and landed in London at 9:30 pm that day. As we are getting off the plane Thomas (9 years old) starts wailing. Thomas is NOT a public wailer. He ascribes to the "real men don't cry" school of thought.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">So we were pretty quickly alarmed. He went to the side of the gangway and just curled up in a fetal position on the floor. We requested a wheelchair and started thinking about how to get him to a doctor to rule out appendicitis. Parading through the airport, we picked up our luggage and then went to wait in line<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>for customs. The line was…absolutely amazing. Winding around and around and around a huge room. But, because of Thomas’s wheelchair we got into a very short and fast medical-needs line! Woohoo! But a very subdued woohoo because it wasn’t worth the price of the poor child’s pain. We were through customs by 10:30, which was awesome. Thomas’s episodes of pain seemed to be coming slower. Then it was revealed that it had been several days since he'd visited the bathroom in a particularly important way. Ahem. So at least at that point we were pretty sure we knew what was happening. He was still uncomfortable but we didn't think it would require hospitalization.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">You'd think that at this point our night would be nearly over and light was at the end of the tunnel. And so it was, sort of. But before we could leave the airport John had to go rent a car for the morning run to Oxford (details on that ridiculousness to follow) and get SIM cards for the phones. He ran off to slay those dragons and I was there with the kids, the luggage, and the wheelchair. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">All we had eaten in the last 35 hours were airplane pretzels and those highly over-rated croissants in Reykjavik so I hauled around all that stuff and all those people in search of some chips or chocolate (the only things available at 11pm on a Tuesday night in the airport). I ended up buying some very weirdly flavored Cajun Cheetos accidentally. Tired. So tired. Hungry. So hungry. So hangry, truthfully. It took forever. We didn’t leave the airport until midnight. We were now at 36 hours with no significant food or sleep, two kids with fevers and another one doubled over with abdominal pain. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> John stuffed the tiny compact car with most of the luggage and most of the kids and drove them a harrowing half hour to an apartment we had rented for just that night (more will follow about the complication he encountered on his first UK drive). Rosie, Gloria and I took a taxi drive to the apartment. It took for forEVER to figure out how to get in. The kids were all crying or punching. In fact, we first walked into what was clearly some other person’s kitchen (at 1 am - poor folks - we probably scared the begeesus out of them). Finding the correct door we walked into a very cramped place without enough beds. The kids started collapsing onto beds here or there. Thomas was asleep the SECOND his head hit the pillow. A pain-induced first in his entire life (never has there been a more restless sleeper than him, usually). There weren’t enough beds for all of us so John and I put together the camp beds. I fell into my own bed in my clothes and hit a rock. I mean, it was technically a mattress but it was as hard as plywood. Of course. That’s about right. End of Day One. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kid-o-bunks in action. Cece on the bottom, Anthony on top. We used the heck out of these and we are still using them everyday in Oxford.</td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><br />Day Two would be used for recuperating. NOT!</span></span><br />
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"> This is where things get complicated. The devil is truly in the details. We needed to rent that compact car at the airport because John need to leave at the butt-crack of dawn to go and pick up his Damn Biometric ID Card (do you sense how I felt about that situation?). These are ID cards that we needed because we would be returning to the UK as residents. We needed to pick them up within 10 days of arriving but we were immediately leaving for France to pick up our van (see excuse #2) and we couldn’t delay for a day to take care of this business of moving (see excuse #3) because we had already booked 7 weeks worth of “holiday homes” on the continent and couldn’t just bump our itinerary back a day (see excuse #1). </span></span><br />
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"> In our planning phase we had learned this information in such a way and in such an order that our gentle entry plan with our day of recouping after a draining travel day just kept getting squashed right out and looking more and more unmanageable. To make matters worse our biometric ID cards had been mailed to separate post offices. Seven of them (the kids and me) in London near our one-night-stand apartment and John's to Oxford, near our future residence. Hence, John rented a small (cheap) car for the morning to 1. buzz over to Oxford. He was supposed to be back in time for us to get from the apartment, to 2. the other post office for me and the kids to pick up our Damn Biometric ID Cards (found out later that all 6 kids had to be present in order for me to pick up), 3. catch the train to 4. the T</span></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">ube to 5. another train to 6. the taxi to 7. the ferry from Dover to France where 8. our van would be waiting and we would drive 3 short hours to arrive in 9. Normandy. </span><span style="font-family: times, "times new roman", serif;">With all the luggage. And the six kids. Having barely slept or ate. </span><span style="font-family: times, "times new roman", serif;">(Insert maniacal, devilish laughter because the DEVIL IS IN THE DETAILS). </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> If you are wondering why we didn’t just plan to get a van and drive with the kids and the luggage to run these errands and then over to the ferry then you will be answered with the feeble excuse that it seemed absurdly expensive to rent a big enough van for one day and drop it off in a location other then where it had been rented. In retrospect, WORTH EVERY PENNY, is what it would have been.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"> I want to take a moment to refer you back to the aforementioned excuses. Did we think this would all work? Well, one of us had a lot of hope and optimism and one of us...didn't. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: times, times new roman, serif;">Day Two in our next installment of my Tale of Travel Travails. </span></div>
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Alexishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06954534617276979985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4922814317344909760.post-53427633425709247542017-10-09T08:11:00.001-07:002017-10-09T08:11:28.777-07:00A Feast of Identity
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<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>As I write this I am wondering if anyone will find it interesting. I have been asked several times how we went about planning the road trip of Europe (part 1) but I have no idea if those people were being polite by showing interest in my obsession or were actually curious. So, in the case that someone out there wants to understand our schema for the trip we planned I am going to write my “big picture” answer down here without continuing this apologetic prelude.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>In the beginning when John and I realized that we were about to be given a rare and once in a lifetime opportunity to travel with our “large” family (if you knew my crowd you’d know why it’s appropriate to use quotation marks even though according to the NYTimes we fall into .05% of families in the USA having eight of us under one roof) we sat down that night<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>and sketched out a brainstorming page about what we would do, see and experience. It was crazy how absolutely in line we were in our priorities. It was easy peasy to set out a basic scheme. And in execution it looks remarkably similar to that very first flurry of ideas and enthusiasms.</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>I say it’s crazy because there are an enormous amount of good reasons to travel and to lap up an opportunity like this. There’s the much sought after growth of open mindedness - expanding our horizons by encountering the other and finding in it the familiar at the same time. This is a very good motivator for travel and one I’m happy to have been able to give to the children, having had the opportunity myself growing up. There’s language acquisition in a natural environment (though most of the our time this year will be in England). In addition, cultivating a sense of adventure can certainly spice up life. Chasing beauty in art, music or nature is an excellent reason to travel. And there’s the allure of Living History which is the flame to my moth of a homeschooling heart. And then there’s the FOOD. That alone…</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>But, there is also a weird Travel Worship thing that makes me uncomfortable. An idea that it’s a wasted life to stay home and run soccer duty and do the conventional thing. As if you are not REALLY living unless you are traveling and experiencing all that life has to offer (which even on a budget is out of reach for moderate to large families the vast majority of the time). I find that insulting and narrow, actually. As if the only way to broaden one’s horizons is to go beyond the horizon. If you’ve ever read the children’s book Toot and Puddle you will have come to the conclusion that I have come to. Toot travels all over the world (loving every minute) and Puddle stays home and enjoys the finer things of the domestic life (loving every minute). There’s nothing wrong with either emphasis. If one wants to traipse and alight here and there and everywhere then, OK. I am certainly more of a rooted sort of person. I want to be making the home that you will come back to eventually. I am more a Puddle then a Toot. But hey- I’m not going to turn down an opportunity to Toot! And Toot the heck out of my children, that’s for SURE.</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>In the year leading up to leaving I thought a lot about what our emphasis for our trip would be - where to focus our energies and attention. When Europe is laid at your feet the only problem is narrowing down to the most perfect exciting and amazingly interesting things out of the amazingly interesting things. When we looked at our brainstorming we discovered that everything fell into one of three “tracks” for our journey. 1. Family History 2. Saint Patrons and 3. Cultural Highlights. It wasn’t until we were actually weeks into our big road trip that I tuned into the common denominator: developing a sense of identity. John and I had both been shaped in significant ways during our travels in highschool and college and intuitively knew what we wanted to give the children before it was even explicit in our own minds.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>The idea of answering the question, “What makes our family different then every other family on the block?” was a really helpful exercise offered in the book, “The 3 Big Questions for a Frantic Family”, by Patrick Lencioni. Lancioni guides your answer by saying that if it’s only your religion then that’s too easy an answer, even if it’s true. (Or, as another friend told me the other day, “You need to give them more then Catholicism so that they have something else to rebel against.” #realism) Lencioni suggests looking into what made you fall in love with your spouse and he said that will be a good starting point to identify what you most desire to pass onto your children. This trip was an amazing opportunity to be able to pass on in really tangible ways pieces of our identity.</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>We were able to pass on to our children a sense of family pride. John’s grandfather was a distinguished admiral who commanded the naval forces at Sicily, North Africa and finally, and most grandly, at D-Day. My Great Uncle died for his country in the unfortunate last gasp of the Nazis in the Battle of the Bulge and we were able to visit his grave. We were able to visit the place that John’s mother made her first communion in Germany<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>- where all the gruff men in town toasted her as they slung her up onto the bar in the pub after what was the first of many communions - a defining aspect of her life to this day. We were able to weed and and tidy the forgotten grave of my Great Great Grandfather and Great Great Grandmother in Vienna, praying for their souls and thanking God for their role in bringing about each of our lives. Leading up to the trip we read books about the relevant battles and the kids are now writing papers and following up with more research and reading family memoirs by some of John’s family. Knowing where we have come from often leads to a greater knowledge of where we are going.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking out over Omaha Beach near the American cemetery.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Descendents of the Head of the Western Task Force and the Admiral of the D-Day ships. And they better never forget it!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">American Cemetery at Utah Beach. Acres of sacrifice.</td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>Another part of our family are the Saints. We each have several patron saints and being able to take the kids on pilgrimages to each of their name saints (we aren’t quite done yet but the ones we have done have been so absolutely worth they hype) is just an astounding opportunity. I could cry thinking about how meaningful it has been. We also visited lots of saints that are more peripheral for us but are very meaningful to our friends and so we are enlarging our sense of family all the time - both on Earth and in Heaven. Opening up wider and wider to bring more people into our fold both those in the Church Triumphant and the Church Militant (which sounds significantly more brutal then it is). We carried with us the prayers of hundreds of friends and communities and we lit candles all over the continent for those intentions. Space and time shrink in eternity and spending time with our friends in the Heavens have brought us closer to our friends on earth.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Patron Saint Therese of Lisieux, France. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In front of the kitchen hearth at St. Therese's family home.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the garden behind the house. </td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdyZ2onGSmssxGEl9RktDg56eVWBtNi9GljHlDN1lohCGC3CSi2zuiVQzmM2i7VuaCuuidZLulPramlrTVI85o_I10JcoPvxBqR4c5Gs4x1FbnxGYLyI7hYBBpeMBOvkLM729mHtb-7U0/s1600/20170805-DSC_5049.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1061" data-original-width="1600" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdyZ2onGSmssxGEl9RktDg56eVWBtNi9GljHlDN1lohCGC3CSi2zuiVQzmM2i7VuaCuuidZLulPramlrTVI85o_I10JcoPvxBqR4c5Gs4x1FbnxGYLyI7hYBBpeMBOvkLM729mHtb-7U0/s400/20170805-DSC_5049.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The basilica of a tiny little nun who is now a doctor of the Church.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The family home of 3 saints (at least). St. Therese, and her father and mother Sts. Louis and Zelie.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQnYPM2iB8KR8nvTY33RctSMCXgkhyphenhyphenXqTG7jrJ63DhK3t55k5HAKA4zWqeeQx30xUKX1RrClBfTH5WZqFcK2EbbKgUGHR_e_fVijXqpL0vtRPp2yd-qNEEv6GhGoA1lG3FJLDMSzRMWNM/s1600/20170805-IMG_5264.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQnYPM2iB8KR8nvTY33RctSMCXgkhyphenhyphenXqTG7jrJ63DhK3t55k5HAKA4zWqeeQx30xUKX1RrClBfTH5WZqFcK2EbbKgUGHR_e_fVijXqpL0vtRPp2yd-qNEEv6GhGoA1lG3FJLDMSzRMWNM/s400/20170805-IMG_5264.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At St. Therese's parish church. Praying for all our friends and family who entrusted their needs to us.</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">The third track was things that have been significant in Western Civilization. It could be musical, artistic, nature, historical. Oh my. This is sort of a catchall except that it’s not when you are focused on developing a sense of identity. What do I want to pass on to my children? What is significant to my sense of self and valuable enough to make room in a packed itinerary? This is how we ended up seeing a Mozart concert in Salzburg, visiting Monet’s Water Lily Gardens in Giverny, seeing Corrie Ten Boom’s house in Haarlem, and spending a wonderful week soaking in the beauty of Venice. We were certainly limited in what we could do given the ages of the kids (for example my husband took just the three older kids to Auschwitz and took them on an abbreviated tour that hopefully had the effect of pointing their moral compass true north but won’t cause nightmares and PTSD) but we didn’t just tour science museums and parks either. Seeing Mozart’s house made them more interested when I put on Mozart for music study. It was worth putting up with a lot of whining and bellyaching for certain culturally significant things and not for others (sorry Schonbrunn).</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Monet's house in Giverny. You can barely see it for all the flowers.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJsZiOP2LI2Z7w7x6eZRf2pknCAKZI2nqIJlPTCp-FSvKeYiH7Z9Q44A8Q1u8vADSwvln1cgyK4_qlJDW5AxutjXKGoCICp-Z9Eeua7b916ptWADax2oj1VNhUcCtu2UJ28Cz5kx8Uha8/s1600/20170806-DSC_5175.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1060" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJsZiOP2LI2Z7w7x6eZRf2pknCAKZI2nqIJlPTCp-FSvKeYiH7Z9Q44A8Q1u8vADSwvln1cgyK4_qlJDW5AxutjXKGoCICp-Z9Eeua7b916ptWADax2oj1VNhUcCtu2UJ28Cz5kx8Uha8/s400/20170806-DSC_5175.jpg" width="263" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGfi7Q0ExheQqpJRGz6ySX6TG4IlSrzdlpzqiOGAqTNcO7C_Sok1BXdu7irvc8yOiW5WjrsS0vzbq3Ql7kR3qgxUc3hKDdC5SwE0Ftg427I2DPOOeDtZaHbZ0XT7SH7vuaOk20TtfxdiQ/s1600/20170806-DSC_5148.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1060" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGfi7Q0ExheQqpJRGz6ySX6TG4IlSrzdlpzqiOGAqTNcO7C_Sok1BXdu7irvc8yOiW5WjrsS0vzbq3Ql7kR3qgxUc3hKDdC5SwE0Ftg427I2DPOOeDtZaHbZ0XT7SH7vuaOk20TtfxdiQ/s400/20170806-DSC_5148.jpg" width="263" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">While the boys ran hither and yon exploring the incredibly expansive gardens the girls and I sketched the pond. The amount of tourists that took our picture was hilarious. All over Asia we are memorialized in photo albums.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just me and my girly on the Japanese bridge. Chilling next to this poor lady who immediately dropped that phone in the water after the picture was taken.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Monet's incredible kitchen in his incredibly colorful house. He was certainly no "starving artist" when he went.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We were really living the dream, that's for sure.</td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>I don’t know how much of it will stick, certainly more for some then others. But I also don’t know how big the seeds will grow. During this school year we are following up on a lot of the things we just saw. Reading and researching and writing and watching documentaries. I feel so incredibly <i>grateful</i> to have been given the opportunity to superintend this rich feast that has been laid before my children. It’s up to them to partake but it has been offered and we will continue to nibble away at it for years once we are back in the cozy confines of our personal Woodcock Pocket, like Toot returning from his journeys.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">P.S. Italy houses SO MUCH of what we want to share with the kids that we are hoping to take a full month there in the spring. That is why Rome and Florence are so underrepresented in my examples.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">P.P.S. Upon re-reading this post I think it is clear that John and I thought more about the opportunity for forming our children then about the pure enjoyment of any particular place. Well, yeah. Anyone who has travelled with children to anywhere except Disney (and maybe even there) knows that they will suck the joy right out of anything with their demands and varying levels of interest and disinterest. And when there are six of them then you are guaranteed to have at least one very unhappy, obstinate person with you at all times - no matter how much ice-cream you feed them.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Also, there was very little leisure for “soaking up” any particular environment. If that is what you are trying to do then I’d certainly wait to take a trip when the kids are older or gone :) Verily. However, we both had pockets of time alone and together to breath deep and take a good look around. The kids really needed objectives to enjoy themselves - we would have been more content with wandering and eating. That will have to be a different trip though. No one here is disappointed with what the trip was and wasn’t. Life with these little folks has prepared us well for travel with them. They are the same kids here, there and everywhere. For better or for worse.</span></div>
Alexishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06954534617276979985noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4922814317344909760.post-67771613654585817042017-10-02T08:21:00.001-07:002017-10-02T08:24:02.176-07:00Wrestling with Belonging<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I went to a women’s group. No woman wants to walk into a room full of women alone - with no social buffer. No Gal Pal, no babe in arms, no glass of wine. Social misery. As I walked up to the hall I caught glimpses of white bobbing around. Must be the reflection in the window. Nope. Those bobs of white were attached to the scalps of several women of venerable age. I was a solid 3 decades younger then every other lady there. And to make matters worse they are each paired up. There wasn't one solo head of white which to sidle up to. So, I did what I think a very British thing to do - I got a cup of tea in order to have something to fiddle with. Knowing that my presence in this tight knit group of church ladies was probably making them feel as awkward as I felt I sat with my "approachable" look on my face. Well, at least I tried to think many approachable thoughts so it could ooze out through my body language. More ladies filtered into the room. Each lady was greeted by name and then quickly paired up with another one, pairing, pairing. The seat next to me was finally occupied by a kindly woman who very helpfully told me, "There's a Mum's Group on Thursday mornings." The priest then came in, introduced himself and immediately followed up by saying, "There's a Mum's Group on Thursday mornings." I returned my tea cup to the lady in charge of tea and she asked me if I'd heard about the Mum's Group on Thursday mornings. </span><br />
<span class="s1">OK, well. 😂 Message received.</span><br />
<span class="s1">But I stayed because I'm not a quitter. Well, that's a lie. I'm totally a quitter, however John was my ride and I had to wait for him. So I stayed and </span>we prayed the rosary. I realized just how flat a sound it is when an American says, “God.” I haven’t resolved the issue yet. First I just said it my way - but it sounded so loud and obnoxious that I started trying to soften it to a rounder “Oh” sound. But then it sounded like I was trying to fake an accent and that’s infinitely weirder then just having the one you were born with. Then I tried to just whisper the “God” part but that was a lot of diligence and not a lot of prayer. I really should not be allowed out of my bubble.<br />
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<span class="s1">Going to this women’s group is yet another microcosm of my overall experience of traveling here in Europe with my dozens of children. “Dozens” is the European translation for six. Weirdo American, with her brood of, what must be Super-Rich, offspring.</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>Knowing that as soon as I open my mouth I will be spotted as the newcomer - I tend to offer weird, tight grins and lots of head bobbing to distract from the fact that I am not saying more then hello, please, and thank you. Like a kid who just had braces clapped on their now-forgotten smiles, I will NOT show my teeth. I will not be forced to admit how foreign I feel.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>But I continue to go and try stuff. Partly because my husband is forcing me to and partly because it is the right thing to do. Openness is important. Be open to life - open to relationship and open to change. My life has revolved around Openness to Life and this is not the moment to shut down in a funk of nervousness because last Sunday the tea with the Indian couple (who were apparently not a couple) was so weird. And it WAS weird.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>I knew better. My social instincts were all the heck over that one. But again. Open to life. Open to people. This is what I do because I believe in the value of people and relationship and community, not because it’s always comfortable. Often it’s painfully uncomfortable. We escaped that disastrously awkward experience with nothing worse then an hour and a half of lurching around for topics to discuss that could last more then two volleys </span>then Anthony eating a spring roll and finding out that it was filled with cabbage instead of chocolate. And frankly, I was glad we tried. It wasn’t a friendship made in heaven but it was a sincere human connection and it was a generosity offered and received. There’s nothing wrong with that.</div>
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<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>Launching into the next jungle of social engagement, I will take comfort from that awful moment in Venice when I was made to feel like the outsider among outsiders. When I felt I was being told to leave. Who on earth would consider bring children to Venice anyway? After 5 weeks on the road already I thought I was becoming immune to that feeling. But no. Actually, I’m not sure that maturity and self-confidence has any staying power for me - they both seems more like the tides. Sometimes high and sometimes low - the only thing being certain is that it will go out again at some point - probably when it is most inconvenient.</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>But then I preach to myself, my most fitful and distracted audience (even taking into account my 9 year old, Thomas). "You belong. You belong because you were called. This IS your place and where you are MEANT to be - whatever that lady thinks." Hmmm. My preaching is not taking. The tide of self-confidence and maturity is well on its way out and the best I can hope for is to find a little tide pool and curl up to wait for the return of deeper waters - exposed and vulnerable until covered again.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>Gradually, I tune into the bells. The bells that followed us all over the Continent. We were rarely, if ever, more then a hop, skip and a jump (or “spittin’ distance”, as my neighbor would say) from Christ in the tabernacle. The bells sing to insecure and lonely me, to the fallen world, to the sick and pained and hardened: I am here. I am never far. I have chosen to dwell among you. I follow you on your journeys and I await you in the tabernacle. My light is always on for you. I remain incarnate in this world in order to be close to you. Because I enjoy your presence. I just love to be near you.</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>We belong because He belongs and we belong within Him. He dwells in the tabernacle. A throne, or a cell? Or both? He is forgotten and left alone. Treated as a relic of a long dead past. The gilding of the ark far more admired then for the flesh and blood it houses. And yet. He remains.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1">He remains. He remains among the thousand of surging tourists in Notre Dame - Paris, San Marco - Venice, Mont St. Michel, The Milan Duomo, St. Stephen’s-Vienna. People photographing and enjoying the beautiful art that was created to honor him - yet He is forgotten.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>This finds me disconcerted and unsettled initially. And then completely comforted. It is infinitely better that He remain then be set aside. The world surges around Him in these places - the world comes to him and he dwells among us in all of our varying levels of openness and awareness. There is nothing more fitting and at the same time, less fitting then seeing our Lord in the tabernacle in one of these places. It forces me repeatedly to come to terms with my own fittingness to receive. We are none of us worthy - we are none of us aware enough of the honor - we are none of us pure vessels of his body to the world. And yet - he doggedly remains with us. He just won’t be got rid of. He will stay.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>And his presence is what tells us that we are just where we belong and also just where we don’t belong. We are a pilgrim people - never fully at home in this world but fully home in Him. We are here to carry him to the farthest corners of the earth with the confidence that He has gone before us. He also dwells in the places that are least “appropriate”. Least fitting. My discomfort in my own skin and my place in a community (or lack there-of) is dissolved in knowing that Christ in the tabernacle is the fulfillment of the paradox of belonging and not belonging. I am in good company. The best company.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuFp_pSIWen6uYapmvt6-tQbs_peka1xzvOeej6pAN_ZZ8nRxcVksR8A3C7Z7WOEWm27WgdHPJJukxaCXBaZJvVx57wEWIIN8CYy6M7mGGPG2yiRFy9kdAZ2z-_ByBmV0JEScMRMjJMsA/s1600/20170831-IMG_7043.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuFp_pSIWen6uYapmvt6-tQbs_peka1xzvOeej6pAN_ZZ8nRxcVksR8A3C7Z7WOEWm27WgdHPJJukxaCXBaZJvVx57wEWIIN8CYy6M7mGGPG2yiRFy9kdAZ2z-_ByBmV0JEScMRMjJMsA/s400/20170831-IMG_7043.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Krakow, Poland. We wandered into a church off the main Market Square, just to check it out. We had been soaking in the cosmopolitan feels of the square, street musicians, fountains, fruit stands, playing some soccer, etc. Mixing with all sorts of folks. We walked into this church and BAM! Incense, gorgeous music, the place was packed with an enormous hodgepodge of people adoring the Lord in the Eucharist and going to confession. We are blown away. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsBORrLhclDudHpyWEYQORbRedEpwu0ISp8ZsCTvRSk0MmU5E9wdCe8TrBs3PdravzJyK-QPzAi5stW6qdPjU1bZ8YkNV5b0IJIAk26mNaKqg7zkygNMHv-EInZ08yJC2dEHzYtX_LBLs/s1600/20170831-IMG_5593.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsBORrLhclDudHpyWEYQORbRedEpwu0ISp8ZsCTvRSk0MmU5E9wdCe8TrBs3PdravzJyK-QPzAi5stW6qdPjU1bZ8YkNV5b0IJIAk26mNaKqg7zkygNMHv-EInZ08yJC2dEHzYtX_LBLs/s400/20170831-IMG_5593.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It was standing room only. Well, most people were kneeling. The entire nave was jam packed. People kneeling in the aisles. Poland is doing something very very right.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMYMBtVQX_jDcQQ81R8uYY0tqro75MROE2FhyjPhLrcx1fCg3raRjrynomq05pWOxHbuTbo9XJlbS74o8n4WT2OjSyBeXLZwBpLTv4sWLwNo5qIFDbqkefUHT53RizS7qku47rVuWn4oc/s1600/20170830-IMG_6947.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="718" data-original-width="957" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMYMBtVQX_jDcQQ81R8uYY0tqro75MROE2FhyjPhLrcx1fCg3raRjrynomq05pWOxHbuTbo9XJlbS74o8n4WT2OjSyBeXLZwBpLTv4sWLwNo5qIFDbqkefUHT53RizS7qku47rVuWn4oc/s400/20170830-IMG_6947.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
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At the Divine Mercy Shrine Christ's tabernacle is actually a globe. He dwells among us all. He is in this world because he loves to be with us.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There are flags leading up to the chapel where Christ appeared to St. Faustina and instituted the Divine Mercy devotion. We prayed with the sisters at 3pm - "For the sake of His sorrowful passion, have mercy on us and ON THE WHOLE WORLD."</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLnYFaxCM2SG2c87L7rgAJdUY_W2okglfWVwpJmwCde0JNXSFYDvYSXe8nj-nebLyqEcqTimqBZmtF74_M-4VQ07w0MRBSC7XqHYenm5KdCLXk5zLWQxSt2DF66mztDFYUr_aAHPbf_hs/s1600/20170813-IMG_5124-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLnYFaxCM2SG2c87L7rgAJdUY_W2okglfWVwpJmwCde0JNXSFYDvYSXe8nj-nebLyqEcqTimqBZmtF74_M-4VQ07w0MRBSC7XqHYenm5KdCLXk5zLWQxSt2DF66mztDFYUr_aAHPbf_hs/s400/20170813-IMG_5124-2.jpg" width="300" /></a><br />
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Sacre Coeur in Paris has had Perpetual Adoration for 400 years. Most people are pushing and shoving to get a view of Paris from the portico (which, I must admit is outstanding) and see the beautiful art inside. The line to get in was snaking back and forth in front of the doors. But if you ask for the "Believer" entrance you can get in for Mass or adoration.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This map is of the area surrounding Sacre Coeur. During WWII those divots are all places that bombs landed. The Parisians attributed the lack of damage to the actual building of the church to the presence of the Eucharist being adored.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Again, lines of people to see the art. But, I got the distinct impression that our Lord enjoys being surrounded by all these people from all over. He dwells here in order to be near us - even if we are unaware of him (as all of us are to some degree or other all the time. After all - the veil has not been lifted yet). There is a crown of thorns housed here. The thorns on the crown are from a plant native to Israel and have blood from a person who was alive during the 1st century. The rest, as our tour guide said, is a matter of faith. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Lord has a great view of Salzburg, Austria from the Abbey that Maria von Trapp attempted to join.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglKFKh20TkHpeF1DTguitRFJdob5GP5EkoQAoIMGjiHq7Iv5eBjVsRhVgTYwieiiRrSDaoNs_WC01ANJ3giEhurhb6XCFrsLJD19lFTqr0OFyzuYco74HQiPWqwm0elEOLCn6MODu9yWA/s1600/20170826-IMG_6795.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglKFKh20TkHpeF1DTguitRFJdob5GP5EkoQAoIMGjiHq7Iv5eBjVsRhVgTYwieiiRrSDaoNs_WC01ANJ3giEhurhb6XCFrsLJD19lFTqr0OFyzuYco74HQiPWqwm0elEOLCn6MODu9yWA/s400/20170826-IMG_6795.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St. Stephensplatz in the center of Vienna is another of his homes here on this planet. This home was filled with Hungarian pilgrims there to venerate the Weeping Madonna who has taken from Hungry. She hasn't wept since the 1600s but believe me, those Hungarians don't feel forgotten by her.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ827DoI34B9i4BSqaYMO9v-aMfw4dK7bA6M1kZttx7nIMhg9cRlBf-OfpkQ431KOCTrJcAMdNhMoC9AviR7GYqZ0OrxAo8RU95i2SiTfxL5kGZ-qCwCoGPC810jy0Ynvq7gGcPLcFNjQ/s1600/20170902-IMG_7129.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ827DoI34B9i4BSqaYMO9v-aMfw4dK7bA6M1kZttx7nIMhg9cRlBf-OfpkQ431KOCTrJcAMdNhMoC9AviR7GYqZ0OrxAo8RU95i2SiTfxL5kGZ-qCwCoGPC810jy0Ynvq7gGcPLcFNjQ/s400/20170902-IMG_7129.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He even dwells hundreds of meters below the surface of the Earth in a chapel carved entirely out of salt. (Poland)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIB9VXvcUlj7zYtydWOyKT3WbF4kmBkAiR39S27zmeEydM0hm1_l2RNpvihyphenhyphenlzJBmAQXVNe9mgky8qdNvbbv3gGuYPaSej1V8lKG6pNxDRyTP9cwk6scj0UM-TMzEkxw9cqph3dJqe6tU/s1600/20170902-DSC_7893.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1061" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIB9VXvcUlj7zYtydWOyKT3WbF4kmBkAiR39S27zmeEydM0hm1_l2RNpvihyphenhyphenlzJBmAQXVNe9mgky8qdNvbbv3gGuYPaSej1V8lKG6pNxDRyTP9cwk6scj0UM-TMzEkxw9cqph3dJqe6tU/s400/20170902-DSC_7893.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I couldn't believe that tabernacle light was lit! They even have Sunday Mass at 7 am every Sunday down here.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEher0hxBvsDuu6pIQooe_-UDSlNf2k031Bwvt1_iLuLqlcukWNNjtVCGusZ_C_5VQk2P-GJhfZ8qCX_T4MQDrZioSRxVaFjRCTN-QoAQXoXUnow-89iwbhLLgSSbHqSdPoxKU8A6eHBE5w/s1600/20170902-DSC_7895.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1600" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEher0hxBvsDuu6pIQooe_-UDSlNf2k031Bwvt1_iLuLqlcukWNNjtVCGusZ_C_5VQk2P-GJhfZ8qCX_T4MQDrZioSRxVaFjRCTN-QoAQXoXUnow-89iwbhLLgSSbHqSdPoxKU8A6eHBE5w/s400/20170902-DSC_7895.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"He holds in his hands the depths of the earth and the highest mountains as well."</td></tr>
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Alexishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06954534617276979985noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4922814317344909760.post-12464636036883308852017-08-08T13:57:00.001-07:002017-08-08T13:58:11.850-07:00Totally random, in no reasonable order or comprehensiveness...OurGrandTour Anecdotes This might just serve as my ongoing (for me - for you it will appear at once) of quirky or funny observations or happenings.<br />
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- In Iceland I was marveling at just how different everything is there. It was the first country and I was super jet-lagged so the thoughts weren't super deep. But as I walked by a coffee shop I looked inside and happened to see the computer screen of the guy sitting at the table near the window. He was shopping on Amazon.com. There's nothing new under the sun. But they probably don't have 2-day shipping to Iceland, huh?<br />
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-As we exited the elevator at the top of the Eiffel Tower we (almost) all experienced what could be equated to emotional endorphins. We had been holding in all our stress and pent up energy and despair over the wait and hunger and need to pee for FIVE HOURS in close-quarter lines with strangers from around the world. The only breaks from lines were climbing up over 700 steps to the elevator because...we are that cheap (and the lines to climb the stairs were shorter. Go figure. So when we burst forth from that elevator door with the stream of BO-having humanity we were all feeling on top of the world, not just on top of Paris. Cece, unfortunately, is afraid of heights so wasn't experiencing the same emotional release as the rest of us as we stepped out. "Thomas, today you're Joy and I'm Fear." Inside Out once again comes to the rescue in complicated emotional moments. How did I ever cope emotionally before that movie?<br />
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-How bout that time John said, "Merci Beaucoup" and I heard, "She has to poop."<br />
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-Or the time that we saved $200 by staying in a hotel that had large amounts of large Middle-East men roaming the halls in nothing but their boxers banging and shouting at each other through the doors until well after 11pm. At least they were boxers. If they'd been French they would have been speedos. And then the power to our rooms kept going out? And the only bathrooms were down the halls and I was having lady times with "supplies" that I was super unfamiliar with? TMI? Yup. It was an expensive savings. It cost many harsh words and some tears.<br />
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-Also, French people jogging. Hilarious. Keds with black socks and cut off black jeans. Or maybe holding your arms out to the side so far that it looks like you are taking off. But going so slowly that my three year old passed you walking backward? As John puts it: it's like jogging has never occurred to them before. They just woke up and thought, "you know what? I think I'll have a jog..." Very enjoyable.<br />
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And how about the shining moments? (I'm going to NOT write down the many uglier and less flattering moments. Not because I want to be "real" or honest but because my own bad moments are mine to share but not my children's or my husbands. You'll just have to take my word for it. I have to be on the lookout for these good moments - otherwise I will be overwhelmed by the weight of the bad ones. Raising a family is hard work and there are some very upsetting moments along the way.<br />
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-I was crying earlier because we got fined 135 Euros because we didn't put pictures on the bus passes. It was a mess. A very frustrating mess. I HATE wasting. Wasting time (thankYOU Eiffel Tower!), wasting money (Here's looking at you, London - who do you think you are, the Queen?), etc. I mean, I hate it. Like, break down in public crying for ten minutes hate it. The kids, and especially Thomas, were so so so sweet towards me while I was upset. He held my hand for a half hour (at eight he generally does not let me hold his hand - he's way above it) and rubbed my back on and off. He pushed the stroller so I could more easily hold the umbrella. He gave his coat to his sister when she was cold and tucked it in. He even instigated a picture in front of Notre Dame when I was so demoralized I couldn't care less. Usually I have the HARDEST times getting him to stand for a picture so I know for sure it was because he loves me and wanted to make me happy. I'm learning to feel so valued. My people love me. They want me to be happy and they care when I'm sad. How blessed am I to have 7 other people in Europe who want me to be happy and will even pose for a picture to help me bounce back? It is the very best, I tell ya.<br />
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-Strangers have been unfailingly helpful. And not grudgingly so but genuinely helpful. They see us struggling to get luggage up a flight of stairs, they help. They see me stuck in a bank because I can't even read enough French to understand that I need to push a green button to get out? They push the button. My card gets declined because...well, who the heck knows?! I don't know why this keeps happening! They patiently leave my groceries on the belt while I run down the street to the ATM (which by the way has an "Error", thank you Google Translate and that is why I get stuck in the bank, released and then finally find another ATM) and then ask if I need another bag (for free!). Or, when we are stuck behind some, apparently suspicious, looking people at Eiffel Tower Security a lady in the next line over waves us (all 8 of us!) in ahead of her. I'm telling, you. People are people and there are always a couple of grumps here and there but I can say that bringing a lot of kids to Europe hasn't been at all the intimidating in terms of judgementalism (yet!), these folks have been as kind to us as I could hope. Even when we clear them out of their morning supply of croissants.Alexishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06954534617276979985noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4922814317344909760.post-47888751649413743672017-07-21T20:37:00.003-07:002017-07-21T20:43:05.375-07:00The Build Up in Pictures, Pt. 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
We are back from Alaska. Vacation is over. We are now prepping. Prepping, prepping, prepping. An old saying attributed to Ignatius of Loyola is, "Work like everything depends on you and pray like everything depends on God." A trip like this is similar. To get the most out of it we need to prep and plan like we can control our trip and then when we are actually in the middle of it we will need to be as flexible and ready for adventure as if we'd done nothing and have no expectations. After spending most of today just trying to put one foot in front of the other to fight off stress-paralysis I'm not sure that revisiting these old plans and pictures is a good idea or a bad idea. On the one hand it's nice to see that we've actually made progress - on the other hand it reminds me of the immensity of this experience. Overwhelmed is my middle name. OK, time traveling back to December.</div>
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December</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZaQ1-UJ3VrTjjHZU7zjoYn9h5rUdyimsZmAZUMPfoA2jhyCTlRehPllE0E9SDwJ1neXhKKGCRGm3buEtNsgpbDyLVS9W5mvYOcPxH00n44Cpxq70LNrjfFrM1ywVJSQR5rNDK-FWoli0/s1600/untitled-22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1060" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZaQ1-UJ3VrTjjHZU7zjoYn9h5rUdyimsZmAZUMPfoA2jhyCTlRehPllE0E9SDwJ1neXhKKGCRGm3buEtNsgpbDyLVS9W5mvYOcPxH00n44Cpxq70LNrjfFrM1ywVJSQR5rNDK-FWoli0/s400/untitled-22.jpg" width="263" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We bought two umbrella strollers for the Cath and Glo for Christmas. It was a lot of reviews and research and we have been using <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Summer-Infant-Convenience-Stroller-Infusing/dp/B00Q55ME3U/ref=sr_1_2_s_it?s=baby-products&ie=UTF8&qid=1500691393&sr=1-2&keywords=summer%2Binfant%2B3d%2Blite%2Bstroller%2B%2Byellow&th=1" target="_blank">these strollers</a> for the last 7 months and they are fantastic! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Rli5yobNDCl-RXv9RgnyEJ-yy_XNgakdFOL7G-w9zY07ViTv7M0FHCHr-pu0Y1O1rgqpCCXBX7BHESloUW1l5U0ZM9CYusTbiXWLJv6Qy_l2sJDVUIB8dAP0okUMtw3AOHuj3unxEVc/s1600/untitled-23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Rli5yobNDCl-RXv9RgnyEJ-yy_XNgakdFOL7G-w9zY07ViTv7M0FHCHr-pu0Y1O1rgqpCCXBX7BHESloUW1l5U0ZM9CYusTbiXWLJv6Qy_l2sJDVUIB8dAP0okUMtw3AOHuj3unxEVc/s400/untitled-23.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christmas Day Stroll.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUZYxmDbcQQD96JWiYLkQHGG-SavynrLSS120Gwv7E4J59u7FIW9h7r5uHBLEhI-mbvkhHxV0nKQHT8h54kaIUWPiqegcAWU8LQbQTJykSmZ6ozfmozLmuUSfI2XPM1l4dxaOwdZ_T3fI/s1600/untitled-25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1060" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUZYxmDbcQQD96JWiYLkQHGG-SavynrLSS120Gwv7E4J59u7FIW9h7r5uHBLEhI-mbvkhHxV0nKQHT8h54kaIUWPiqegcAWU8LQbQTJykSmZ6ozfmozLmuUSfI2XPM1l4dxaOwdZ_T3fI/s400/untitled-25.jpg" width="263" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The girls received the Madeline books for Christmas from Grandma.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9O-FJCB2lT0PwuhaL_MqSBLxFy6nt_ju099uEU1MP_zD5TO__bPvmwcYPPWHNlde3Icgc8HCvAe0Z9pKF_j4n6VV0LPvk41qYOFmCLA18PmInDYiTubFm2gVM9OXvb7yQdWIbwgBgcfM/s1600/untitled-26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1061" data-original-width="1600" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9O-FJCB2lT0PwuhaL_MqSBLxFy6nt_ju099uEU1MP_zD5TO__bPvmwcYPPWHNlde3Icgc8HCvAe0Z9pKF_j4n6VV0LPvk41qYOFmCLA18PmInDYiTubFm2gVM9OXvb7yQdWIbwgBgcfM/s400/untitled-26.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Did you know that Madeline went to London? Who knew?!</td></tr>
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January</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaX6Lf6OoVFI8Rb2YViXL5Di-hcq7sZgR97IEfylQ0182uM9j2OwVPIcKP_ooZRG_xQR0KOEyZSt28EJV3LJ1Kgq2QI52hFErrwZvOwTfLm_6t8Q8tGocW5mZ2yKIBox8qG2qoaWpoiug/s1600/untitled-27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1061" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaX6Lf6OoVFI8Rb2YViXL5Di-hcq7sZgR97IEfylQ0182uM9j2OwVPIcKP_ooZRG_xQR0KOEyZSt28EJV3LJ1Kgq2QI52hFErrwZvOwTfLm_6t8Q8tGocW5mZ2yKIBox8qG2qoaWpoiug/s640/untitled-27.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">James is never one to let an opportunity for a toast go to waste. To John's new book and to the year abroad! Cheers!</td></tr>
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February</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi7IaOC8EVYks5mScsY97bOntmW7zgnfNfGfdeV2BBgEaZzdkbWQ5lQihZbA_iQvlDnTBVkVFjX-1ZQO59ZJlbw7dNwLJBJ78Hgl_KyHHFSp1l_I3fIFngz-e_x-PlIjzJNLxVPn1KAsQ/s1600/untitled-29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi7IaOC8EVYks5mScsY97bOntmW7zgnfNfGfdeV2BBgEaZzdkbWQ5lQihZbA_iQvlDnTBVkVFjX-1ZQO59ZJlbw7dNwLJBJ78Hgl_KyHHFSp1l_I3fIFngz-e_x-PlIjzJNLxVPn1KAsQ/s400/untitled-29.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The ever-growing pile of research. I LOVED <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Take-Your-Kids-Europe-8th-ebook/dp/B003U6Z62S/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1500691775&sr=8-1&keywords=take+your+kids+to+europe" target="_blank">Take Your Kids to Europe</a> and <a href="https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_1_15?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-text&field-keywords=europe+through+the+back+door+2017&sprefix=europe+through+%2Cdigital-text%2C125&crid=2K52TI2S7WP1W" target="_blank">Europe Through the Back Door</a>. The <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Eyewitness-Travel-Family-Guide-Guides-ebook/dp/B01BHH8O2K/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1500691895&sr=8-2&keywords=DK+family+guides" target="_blank">DK Family Guides</a> to particular cities seem great. I'll let you know more in a few weeks if they are worth the $$$.</td></tr>
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March</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA-n5ecyKFaZRfJNyGLbG98MAiltP4sMT9ijOmiGmNNVX6vkKn5_uA8zcXG6yohiQ-KdXjDR9i97H-CZiX89hp0xa3XPl65k7bkKgWkM2uwaI8gQh-P5pIV6zpSa0a78rKFadLeIw-QA8/s1600/untitled-32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA-n5ecyKFaZRfJNyGLbG98MAiltP4sMT9ijOmiGmNNVX6vkKn5_uA8zcXG6yohiQ-KdXjDR9i97H-CZiX89hp0xa3XPl65k7bkKgWkM2uwaI8gQh-P5pIV6zpSa0a78rKFadLeIw-QA8/s400/untitled-32.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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We took a trip in March to an exhibit of St. Thomas More's relics that were on exhibition at the John Paul II institute in Washington DC. We saw this as a dry-run. It's not that far a drive for us and we remembered that the Tower of London doesn't let you see the cell that Thomas More was kept in. There's a little information about him on the tours of the Tower but not really enough for us. So the weekend before we went was watched A Man for All Seasons with the kids. They all watched it! They all enjoyed it. There was a fair amount of pausing and explaining but it still held their attention. That's just a parent to parent FYI. I was surprised that they had to good taste to see that this is a SUPERIOR movie.<br />
As a dry run of what we hope to do for six weeks straight (road-tripping with stops at awesome sights) this was excellent. It was excellent because it was so real. So less-then-ideal. Don't get your hopes up - it wasn't a total disaster (that has it's own charm eventually) it was just annoying and mildly disappointing. Still glad we did it but really. It wasn't awesome. It's not Alaska, afterall.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAd1wJQgjO3AtLhaaqS-MN0wLuj3p4jotX0szdGyqFWVLNYDZQoRKWSSSMBL9rHoocYMZkRCOBxDDgeeJJreHThffJ_LeKSx9eM4RHn7fcu9y0b6flzpFOsEl3AWyrzyKjBMTq8W3t5oU/s1600/untitled-30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAd1wJQgjO3AtLhaaqS-MN0wLuj3p4jotX0szdGyqFWVLNYDZQoRKWSSSMBL9rHoocYMZkRCOBxDDgeeJJreHThffJ_LeKSx9eM4RHn7fcu9y0b6flzpFOsEl3AWyrzyKjBMTq8W3t5oU/s320/untitled-30.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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As you can see from this picture. We immediately had to stop at The Wal because a half hour from home we realized that SOMEONE<br />
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wasn't wearing any shoes. <br />
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THANKFULLY, because of this unscheduled stop we were able to obtain the food with a local flair.<br />
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It was appreciated.<br />
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Not ten minutes further down the road a different SOMEONE had (haaaaaaad!!!!) to go to the bathroom.<br />
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And another one.<br />
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And another one.<br />
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And another one.<br />
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But we got down to our great country's great capitol. John worked here for a year between his Masters and Licentiate degrees. He was working there when we first started the conversations that led to us dating. I'd say that he was working there when we first fell in love but that sounds awkward. I don't really use those kind of words.<br />
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I couldn't take pictures in the exhibition. It was really, really cool. We got to see a nightcap that Margaret has embroidered for St. Thomas More, Cardinal Wolsey's breviary, and some of More's clothes. I only know that because I snatched glimpses of plaques as I chased REALLY wild, REALLY <strike>disobedient</strike> highspirited children through the halls. Even though they loved the movie and were objectively interested in what we were seeing they were just in such a state. I have no idea why.<br />
Maybe it was a result of that local Walmart food.<br />
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Still trying to eek out something meaningful for them out of the trip, we took them to our beautiful National Basilica that is just down the road. It seemed like a good idea to visit our own nation's National Basilica in our capitol before we go see everybody elses. Also, the year that John and I got engaged we used to attend mass in the mysterious and dark crypt regularly. I was so excited to show them. Surely, this would put them in a more meditative state. They will love the various shrines to to the Madonna from all over the world, surely.<br />
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In reality it was very difficult to find a way in with the strollers and then there was Mass so we couldn't spend any time there. Also, the cafeteria smelled really good but wasn't serving any food. So the kids were unable to think about anything except being hungry. OH WELL. That is real life. I'm glad that it went so mediocrelly. It brought my ideals and expectations down to a manageable level. Europe will not make magically well-behaved, engaged and pleasant children. Or parents.<br />
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Human's are rarely able to live up to to awesomeness in front of our eyes.Alexishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06954534617276979985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4922814317344909760.post-44253871255187077192017-07-19T12:29:00.002-07:002017-07-21T19:16:40.598-07:00Alaska, Day 6 and 7 -Ketchikan and my birthdayBack last year when I got the itinerary for our cruise I was delighted to see that we stopped in Ketchikan. I knew (thank you Facebook) that one of my Household Sisters from FUS had moved up there. So we got in contact and she met us in her cute cute town. It was such a blessing in the middle of this cruise to visit a home and have the local gym, library, middle school pointed out. People LIVE in Alaska - not just visitors! We also got a great tour of the Catholic School (the only Catholic school in the diocese of Juneau). Even though Ketchikan is another town that you can't drive into - only by plane or boat it is still important to have Catholic education available for the diocese. My old pal is the principle of the school and is doing a tremendous job. It was inspiring to see her in her place and working to bring Christ into this somewhat isolated place. She is doing such a good work there.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-XENG0VJy-izmrDMhfsaB68UG8YvjOKDMDvO0fkZObqoYn1RaGiXrh9DSwTPjw8E0znGpdXc77vIBAFk6tGY3qgbQONu1VVv5ve5dne0GeanpKJnXCDaD5z2BBL1tdn5pDQ1_Rfo72oc/s1600/Alaska-133.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1600" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-XENG0VJy-izmrDMhfsaB68UG8YvjOKDMDvO0fkZObqoYn1RaGiXrh9DSwTPjw8E0znGpdXc77vIBAFk6tGY3qgbQONu1VVv5ve5dne0GeanpKJnXCDaD5z2BBL1tdn5pDQ1_Rfo72oc/s400/Alaska-133.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alaska is as filled with animal skins and heads as you might imagine.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNY0Pkq9kdCoQnFHtUlNd4CpE6q6JwjdfwX_s0Q5r_ashE9OTgFjo7H6U-5Q32lTLQOqFlAANVIK3cnBQL305jcLF1XZ8fFrJPVitxxZuaRpmYIGCjh0Cki4Ib93ZXyNXhpjMExMEjFcI/s1600/Alaska-134.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNY0Pkq9kdCoQnFHtUlNd4CpE6q6JwjdfwX_s0Q5r_ashE9OTgFjo7H6U-5Q32lTLQOqFlAANVIK3cnBQL305jcLF1XZ8fFrJPVitxxZuaRpmYIGCjh0Cki4Ib93ZXyNXhpjMExMEjFcI/s400/Alaska-134.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ketchikan was small enough that we could return to our ship to eat lunch for free. It's also nice to visit the ship on a port day - it's so empty!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They have a cute canal bordered by wooden walkways up against the mountains.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivJORIQIx2bcTM8UP6AEL06tq0bZlFxrhg7ROZQDK0wYxWl_sRwIOsRi7eOgZtkFvs0P2KeHXBsdS_tHoOU50aLjqLNnmkS9C3z9V1mIeWtrp-KAxvTgYHEDf_chQh0KTgvbBzRB0Qha8/s1600/Alaska-136.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivJORIQIx2bcTM8UP6AEL06tq0bZlFxrhg7ROZQDK0wYxWl_sRwIOsRi7eOgZtkFvs0P2KeHXBsdS_tHoOU50aLjqLNnmkS9C3z9V1mIeWtrp-KAxvTgYHEDf_chQh0KTgvbBzRB0Qha8/s400/Alaska-136.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from my friend's deck where she is sometimes woken up by the whales spouting. Apparently they are quite loud! And they are RIGHT THERE!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic63E7KU_3EWmmVq518w1t5zUB635HzQCDVWR_ZgPfv-Jw2N6NhAfDGvkIXYUt7RSeBG0Lgf3YDw3ZXHC0sO4t72KHcqK2oJcvKWnQ0X3UlJHY5nc10_iJiG4mYX7rECouveOjCAVCfbM/s1600/Alaska-137.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic63E7KU_3EWmmVq518w1t5zUB635HzQCDVWR_ZgPfv-Jw2N6NhAfDGvkIXYUt7RSeBG0Lgf3YDw3ZXHC0sO4t72KHcqK2oJcvKWnQ0X3UlJHY5nc10_iJiG4mYX7rECouveOjCAVCfbM/s400/Alaska-137.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ketchikanians use cisterns to gather their water. with rain 300 days a year they don't seem to run out. There year round average temperature here is in the 50s. Thanks to the temperate rainforest. It's significantly more mild an existence then we have in MD (as I write it is in the mid-90s with nasty humidity). They get less snow then us too.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPJBf2ccKdCgJu_S4tdM8qxkqYge-MjKEV7WVBzvVhbxqHxZUdO_v1CqtmjNO_OwpjfMQNFQYEc_04mE7do0wtgwRUfPfjTDbsGxRszX3wyeE2ISgjL3xLomscah43YkL84i1GBaukf4g/s1600/Alaska-138.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPJBf2ccKdCgJu_S4tdM8qxkqYge-MjKEV7WVBzvVhbxqHxZUdO_v1CqtmjNO_OwpjfMQNFQYEc_04mE7do0wtgwRUfPfjTDbsGxRszX3wyeE2ISgjL3xLomscah43YkL84i1GBaukf4g/s400/Alaska-138.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We stopped to see this (most likely female: "how do you know it's a female?" - "The girls have big butts") bear fishing in the stream near a salmon hatchery. </td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5kNho0JqLvuxEMCwiyOg4ug7sKi-sCXZlSoyfI8F8c1x3KvxHuLD4VCp1lXZW7fD-FGmV_NkJCi3suzJTCI5C5Lo394zKBHOY8wt2AmJ0-KzBvX_A5bJs1TqJXVdb4_Tu1K_eTpAxJ5o/s1600/Alaska-139.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="709" data-original-width="1070" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5kNho0JqLvuxEMCwiyOg4ug7sKi-sCXZlSoyfI8F8c1x3KvxHuLD4VCp1lXZW7fD-FGmV_NkJCi3suzJTCI5C5Lo394zKBHOY8wt2AmJ0-KzBvX_A5bJs1TqJXVdb4_Tu1K_eTpAxJ5o/s400/Alaska-139.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgepEeC0KoI-WVZjHrXlnUtpqlrlCdnwPfjq3VZV-4H10oE0Mh_4Ye6i5CymsslhIMcA5E5mxUrnw0pxNdDi-bXaFCj4nVXEOjTQXAQAykx_jdhfpEpoG8K52CSFL_y-lJ7mhUVZ-fLBwE/s1600/Alaska-140.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1060" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgepEeC0KoI-WVZjHrXlnUtpqlrlCdnwPfjq3VZV-4H10oE0Mh_4Ye6i5CymsslhIMcA5E5mxUrnw0pxNdDi-bXaFCj4nVXEOjTQXAQAykx_jdhfpEpoG8K52CSFL_y-lJ7mhUVZ-fLBwE/s640/Alaska-140.jpg" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Earlier in the day my friend's husband had been mowing the lawn and the looked up to see a mom and triplets in his yard. Apparently their bear-dog only cares to warn about bears presence if the girls are home.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNqefSlXmd5kKtq12JZcZuvv4eFF1TsQ83ZQZ5hsMrSlmJOh6YXqhQPQiamqxZXuNqFbpN48LoXRD3_nGH97RTtwBBWkI4GEKB_DLUDa34V38oEbUoXAIaEO0Ho1Z58a9Xy3XhcdcVMqQ/s1600/Alaska2017-4.mp4" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="320" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNqefSlXmd5kKtq12JZcZuvv4eFF1TsQ83ZQZ5hsMrSlmJOh6YXqhQPQiamqxZXuNqFbpN48LoXRD3_nGH97RTtwBBWkI4GEKB_DLUDa34V38oEbUoXAIaEO0Ho1Z58a9Xy3XhcdcVMqQ/s400/Alaska2017-4.mp4" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPvZvjsOHp2iE64xZRK9E7XPAjOeCQWiYgCIYWloxxnger9PHYhXFDyF13ffpyoO3ss3q7RoaI0oSCZLjj2hitluBhERKFsvp2ikvJljUpBluYf1Sdr7dOVRifIJIfwSywOJBZZRcSkt0/s1600/Alaska-141.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1019" data-original-width="1538" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPvZvjsOHp2iE64xZRK9E7XPAjOeCQWiYgCIYWloxxnger9PHYhXFDyF13ffpyoO3ss3q7RoaI0oSCZLjj2hitluBhERKFsvp2ikvJljUpBluYf1Sdr7dOVRifIJIfwSywOJBZZRcSkt0/s400/Alaska-141.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was the second bear we saw haunting the same stream.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsTFcSaowR9x2vBPOy1eAFrrtWu8pmIbseRYZcfxNqMFyTmxFQ9Z7QVPtll7fQTx8Xvu6lYzsKZTeVfxF7Qd4pv_dVlOsXFwW657M35SfVadL9kKuKYH-tyz6nQhJY92s2aSiBFytSPOU/s1600/Alaska-143.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="460" data-original-width="305" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsTFcSaowR9x2vBPOy1eAFrrtWu8pmIbseRYZcfxNqMFyTmxFQ9Z7QVPtll7fQTx8Xvu6lYzsKZTeVfxF7Qd4pv_dVlOsXFwW657M35SfVadL9kKuKYH-tyz6nQhJY92s2aSiBFytSPOU/s400/Alaska-143.jpg" width="265" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8vQF4TyyNoF-LY1wz9uYm-VaIw07IOkudksdp2iUdceCbEi7GPdanFYLSL_vd5dQCA8TFNNtrfZsgBuW2Y3F9TrjOkNNsLHxkixH1qVxn7grHcc8_cY8cRVhU2Q1cMLhyUMDB1KnpjMs/s1600/Alaska-144.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1600" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8vQF4TyyNoF-LY1wz9uYm-VaIw07IOkudksdp2iUdceCbEi7GPdanFYLSL_vd5dQCA8TFNNtrfZsgBuW2Y3F9TrjOkNNsLHxkixH1qVxn7grHcc8_cY8cRVhU2Q1cMLhyUMDB1KnpjMs/s400/Alaska-144.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thanks, Nicole for the family picture!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCdOzI9-qymCH80009M_aFDQ_CdQlmP50b4kstpiaj3jj7n_72uhzczsihR9rmmWQAsDok_OBcARYLduIkFeYt8iCb61YregwzXFO0Hvgd0fiKuVC78_fHaemfNSGnF51iBQS8zjjRPf8/s1600/Alaska-145.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCdOzI9-qymCH80009M_aFDQ_CdQlmP50b4kstpiaj3jj7n_72uhzczsihR9rmmWQAsDok_OBcARYLduIkFeYt8iCb61YregwzXFO0Hvgd0fiKuVC78_fHaemfNSGnF51iBQS8zjjRPf8/s400/Alaska-145.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As we were eating dinner on the ship we finally saw just a tad of the famous Ketchikan rain.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM1qL4ANtzEdfx27sJCaY4_Nj-J_I0e71_yMLsTCiWtiIEhX-mZUyzucxnBh2cKmXqvLDMjyB_1p2F6fDX32HZ7VdKXjFMplg1GocMAwhdN_uUM0w9EmRK2siaDqOSP8UMG5Q4f8WNiWE/s1600/Alaska-146.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1060" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM1qL4ANtzEdfx27sJCaY4_Nj-J_I0e71_yMLsTCiWtiIEhX-mZUyzucxnBh2cKmXqvLDMjyB_1p2F6fDX32HZ7VdKXjFMplg1GocMAwhdN_uUM0w9EmRK2siaDqOSP8UMG5Q4f8WNiWE/s400/Alaska-146.jpg" width="263" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting ready for bed with with Gran. Thomas is hanging from the berth that comes down out of the ceiling and Gran is sitting on the couch that turns into another bed. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhdb9YSXIc7Sli-JOqzAJlLSoowIAfVGksc2PQ0EtnRcQWZhmCKZcK7Ic9RFnYRg5E4AtbrjTNOfQoOzQ7Vk7pQrkQKbjMjCzTUGNIaWCofj2bvhldqBh5UfmL6qsb9IKXFSyeV3MgScU/s1600/Alaska-149.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhdb9YSXIc7Sli-JOqzAJlLSoowIAfVGksc2PQ0EtnRcQWZhmCKZcK7Ic9RFnYRg5E4AtbrjTNOfQoOzQ7Vk7pQrkQKbjMjCzTUGNIaWCofj2bvhldqBh5UfmL6qsb9IKXFSyeV3MgScU/s400/Alaska-149.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the room without the berth lowered down or the couch turned into a bed. There were four sleeping spots per room so we had adjoining ones.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5bP7lzYgOyQrEBZi3AC0T4iufuCrt_k87JxsXHRbRfZI9Fz-Tz9dGGWlAnL_8wY2sX4gSLgxW6xBSvke5pJy2pw4ortnjpYDqrBUrFj_wGdj8xT1kW2HmWvf0uHubkXt3f2EdQfjRaxI/s1600/Alaska-147.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5bP7lzYgOyQrEBZi3AC0T4iufuCrt_k87JxsXHRbRfZI9Fz-Tz9dGGWlAnL_8wY2sX4gSLgxW6xBSvke5pJy2pw4ortnjpYDqrBUrFj_wGdj8xT1kW2HmWvf0uHubkXt3f2EdQfjRaxI/s400/Alaska-147.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A nautical mile is just over 1 regular mile.</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/AVvXsEhTVBFxAwTE8RH22_Sp_Ca-WnKkMw9leXojgz4Dzw8p_DuX5JuXJwdnKpZn13nxi7uivdFsTNjuK6T_5r_VdGVFh6gLl4xpEDP06WSlBmiVmkkQ5Fr1geeS8OM-WrouIlqwIqwuMp5knd8/s1600/Alaska-148.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTVBFxAwTE8RH22_Sp_Ca-WnKkMw9leXojgz4Dzw8p_DuX5JuXJwdnKpZn13nxi7uivdFsTNjuK6T_5r_VdGVFh6gLl4xpEDP06WSlBmiVmkkQ5Fr1geeS8OM-WrouIlqwIqwuMp5knd8/s400/Alaska-148.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Singing "Let It Go" and RUNNING for breakfast. The best part of some people's days.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi06fR9z2SkWW5q9kQZMuc0WJxsiqulSmuciy-Bk6dNE1hLifJiv3PetjQ4HtHo41xK-vHuM6Swsxv0KNQiETr_a3fbT9ndrnKrP5wdTSsCwLbgDWg4-oSsLr2DbsTaznokSc7lpoERuk8/s1600/Alaska-150.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi06fR9z2SkWW5q9kQZMuc0WJxsiqulSmuciy-Bk6dNE1hLifJiv3PetjQ4HtHo41xK-vHuM6Swsxv0KNQiETr_a3fbT9ndrnKrP5wdTSsCwLbgDWg4-oSsLr2DbsTaznokSc7lpoERuk8/s400/Alaska-150.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The last day - our Day At Sea sailing back to Vancouver was also my birthday! I had an Alaskan birthday!!! Dream come true.</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/AVvXsEjrnmJIW_ThDMW6iQhwX2Dyz8VBQtxdOZvHBo2XuHSLW_bAZ-np2T5OkTUdYge9gQ9i6_BFLd0a_DDoyXHWbc_QFei_uisAsIl6lsVwNVlEnh4awz4Wq0aHA4W64YEySwQ-aL70zplJxDw/s1600/Alaska-151.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1600" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrnmJIW_ThDMW6iQhwX2Dyz8VBQtxdOZvHBo2XuHSLW_bAZ-np2T5OkTUdYge9gQ9i6_BFLd0a_DDoyXHWbc_QFei_uisAsIl6lsVwNVlEnh4awz4Wq0aHA4W64YEySwQ-aL70zplJxDw/s400/Alaska-151.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The kids swam. I sat shivering on the side. But they claim all the water is heated. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJqAxqWUr6QX0BbHa55QaRo5dAJKXtsALtk3zHrNZeYVlDYYLsFdOBCAEjNr0Om78gPpxAgkyuacUT7cyYiy9Y4u4ZQbRAAT485yuAyrzMLcCVmLcXaz0RT3wRfGlL5cm5f4Sm5hiOL74/s1600/Alaska-152.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1600" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJqAxqWUr6QX0BbHa55QaRo5dAJKXtsALtk3zHrNZeYVlDYYLsFdOBCAEjNr0Om78gPpxAgkyuacUT7cyYiy9Y4u4ZQbRAAT485yuAyrzMLcCVmLcXaz0RT3wRfGlL5cm5f4Sm5hiOL74/s400/Alaska-152.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">AND watching Frozen on the big screen while swimming. Obvi.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKRv5F_uI4nG83FwqKmYqsVvw8P1L3IHGY-oPI2zbOespq8CEBB9Jyv0fAhxWIye9MwI7AllFtLq44cELau8nSEKiRTJqEn6xfpNeGvQsNI0wko7MsAFN_VadziS03QSzaNnVc_n02750/s1600/Alaska-153.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1600" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKRv5F_uI4nG83FwqKmYqsVvw8P1L3IHGY-oPI2zbOespq8CEBB9Jyv0fAhxWIye9MwI7AllFtLq44cELau8nSEKiRTJqEn6xfpNeGvQsNI0wko7MsAFN_VadziS03QSzaNnVc_n02750/s400/Alaska-153.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi83Rrw1IVxJIAI9KeJv15oU_CuykcE365Os4YYz6QVzy00jzafpZDYlwPH7WJ-M40ADhFW6pNyvucdJk_hYpW8h8KJR-X68nUj3P0Yy-ru8GpR_QSXeO_yMuRJgg6C2QE0m0mOW-Tdua0/s1600/Alaska-154.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1600" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi83Rrw1IVxJIAI9KeJv15oU_CuykcE365Os4YYz6QVzy00jzafpZDYlwPH7WJ-M40ADhFW6pNyvucdJk_hYpW8h8KJR-X68nUj3P0Yy-ru8GpR_QSXeO_yMuRJgg6C2QE0m0mOW-Tdua0/s400/Alaska-154.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She was MIRACULOUSLY tall enough to do the big water slide. Finally, things are shaping for little Cath.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiJGeAlv8OOjTZ4LDumkvJSOUpyMJ0BmJwG91tpsXRS95RJ8zlNzgmk009aKwf708b1ekGcgEU8mCuMnGZE3-6smfPC8t4cyU6LlaQ6UHguM5bM7H2bnH3tBDSR2zaqaWh1oZu6qYGXm0/s1600/Alaska-155.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1061" data-original-width="1600" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiJGeAlv8OOjTZ4LDumkvJSOUpyMJ0BmJwG91tpsXRS95RJ8zlNzgmk009aKwf708b1ekGcgEU8mCuMnGZE3-6smfPC8t4cyU6LlaQ6UHguM5bM7H2bnH3tBDSR2zaqaWh1oZu6qYGXm0/s400/Alaska-155.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Over. And over. And over. We had to drag her away eventually.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJsWLhfSpvDB1UmlA2EGoMkhEFzDrmRuqVbs8g4MZubrBLfUZvJ8pymlmd2JJcRv9MdzcDbKxzNsPDWjlcH6rtxqLuocfu0N5tDD621HvrxyKuZaU4IMLNt2-9LW-vzl759yMuG2_Ltn4/s1600/Alaska-157.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1600" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJsWLhfSpvDB1UmlA2EGoMkhEFzDrmRuqVbs8g4MZubrBLfUZvJ8pymlmd2JJcRv9MdzcDbKxzNsPDWjlcH6rtxqLuocfu0N5tDD621HvrxyKuZaU4IMLNt2-9LW-vzl759yMuG2_Ltn4/s400/Alaska-157.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Warming up in the Quiet Cove Cafe (grownups only :)) while still enjoying the scenery. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLX-zYMHVcgYCHOpi_OYYf5icJNOq_BavpAm_dxFSVd6Dcl7krtFPMtY6ebefFlyfgie5K_SUPwTrXO1GJl4ZktSLtVamSc7_XBXs4PJ0jOcrrSFdYnSJPrkowFli3dP38KRHsoynRbGk/s1600/Alaska-158.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLX-zYMHVcgYCHOpi_OYYf5icJNOq_BavpAm_dxFSVd6Dcl7krtFPMtY6ebefFlyfgie5K_SUPwTrXO1GJl4ZktSLtVamSc7_XBXs4PJ0jOcrrSFdYnSJPrkowFli3dP38KRHsoynRbGk/s400/Alaska-158.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Let me take a low quality picture of my food and text it to people who don't care." - Jim Gaffigan.<br />
However, this calamari was the best I've ever had. And it was my birthday so I get to do this.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0yANzkhg8DHaOaGevUe0ECpPpLtWiKN1ceOcOydfiennchrgq1ynVtPMpwLT7o1tzqD2U0hJtZvvQMajB7qbpGlpqSJ-vBzY2Kr8LvGet2podT4xffZJfJGDBTJlZnbqBu5hXXoy2ZCc/s1600/Alaska-159.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0yANzkhg8DHaOaGevUe0ECpPpLtWiKN1ceOcOydfiennchrgq1ynVtPMpwLT7o1tzqD2U0hJtZvvQMajB7qbpGlpqSJ-vBzY2Kr8LvGet2podT4xffZJfJGDBTJlZnbqBu5hXXoy2ZCc/s400/Alaska-159.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John's mom and brothers wrangled the kids for our last dinner on the ship so that he and I could get a massage (our first, hopefully not our last) and then go to dinner at the grown-ups only restaurant on the ship. It was such a lovely gift. A little charge-up for both of us before returning to all the prep of moving across an ocean that we are in the middle of here at home.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwmRx6QjkHolXE-CrHntZT5zfjxCXlD0dLcKPZcRHECKmiolm1UC1doKp14Pa1_7nsgRgpfy4tkWT-WwfRaNBuOlNfWaBAuOgzOA9Twvq9OmdkPT061kzuclKM_-JdGy7YI4EkHm6Z0Tg/s1600/Alaska-160.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwmRx6QjkHolXE-CrHntZT5zfjxCXlD0dLcKPZcRHECKmiolm1UC1doKp14Pa1_7nsgRgpfy4tkWT-WwfRaNBuOlNfWaBAuOgzOA9Twvq9OmdkPT061kzuclKM_-JdGy7YI4EkHm6Z0Tg/s400/Alaska-160.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I turned upper 30's. But he'll always be older, at least there's that. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEWyip7CtPOQTqIx-R68aVILxUPscblimyBOGFQ9uYjgZfUFs-L9L8Nia4vt9JeQkflWXtSmVuludQlK0V9h5t5xx-dqa_saAZEXhK0AEKVF0_Jzsj__gYg887AU0upcKZyac_sJ8aL20/s1600/Alaska-162.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEWyip7CtPOQTqIx-R68aVILxUPscblimyBOGFQ9uYjgZfUFs-L9L8Nia4vt9JeQkflWXtSmVuludQlK0V9h5t5xx-dqa_saAZEXhK0AEKVF0_Jzsj__gYg887AU0upcKZyac_sJ8aL20/s400/Alaska-162.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Post dinner movie on deck for them.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiosNmWVmZ1DhFUuvj2PRmGXiMb33Xg2bEwSGjsy4lpDxA7skoLvzpGB8ZPhvurXopQxNMFaeYnLEDhbkgsa4oobLZbig5ECCiZdJib_wwYmOlEtb5bohpGUBmbvhRWhI4YFMizloLCwAI/s1600/Alaska-161.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiosNmWVmZ1DhFUuvj2PRmGXiMb33Xg2bEwSGjsy4lpDxA7skoLvzpGB8ZPhvurXopQxNMFaeYnLEDhbkgsa4oobLZbig5ECCiZdJib_wwYmOlEtb5bohpGUBmbvhRWhI4YFMizloLCwAI/s400/Alaska-161.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Post dinner Alaskan sunset for me. Happy happy birthday!!!!!</td></tr>
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In conclusion, I can't thank my ever-generous, ever-optimistic, ever-energetic Mother in law for this gift enough. It was the fulfillment of a major bucket list item for me and absolutely lived up to my expectations. I only wish that I could go longer, farther and take everyone I know! Alaska forever!!!<br />
<br />Alexishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06954534617276979985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4922814317344909760.post-44687782309200319772017-07-18T07:21:00.000-07:002017-07-21T19:16:40.601-07:00Alaska Day 4 - Skagway <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Skagway was the first time we actually set foot on Alaskan soil. It's a tiny town that has 862 full-time residents (swells to 2000 residents with summer workers) and has over 700,000 visitors visit every summer. We got to be 8 of them. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAAKajzv3QVfvKS2ydr0HQlBn6GqoaKVySC35WsTdjj5zsL2WGk_nTZPICtGc-myIEZcoqpAeJfRChN_6upvNvd2zHWGSsVo31ztmcR1wbmPT4rJDEYEywM2_jvZPiOeurtUSMHX5ej7Q/s1600/Alaskaskagway-37.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAAKajzv3QVfvKS2ydr0HQlBn6GqoaKVySC35WsTdjj5zsL2WGk_nTZPICtGc-myIEZcoqpAeJfRChN_6upvNvd2zHWGSsVo31ztmcR1wbmPT4rJDEYEywM2_jvZPiOeurtUSMHX5ej7Q/s400/Alaskaskagway-37.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The town is mostly owned by the National Park Service. At least the first several blocks.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmK3tkx7nRufBmxvEkGlyqZH1UlI0iW68yNA3035RMiyeRpm_EdCSh93h456l8uHYwYw-9NMLYkeJfpvfc990tWXAeAYM7uYm3P82vpmDjFASJwWkgXxIyRYxZlNgq_TcaudB4XWXSVEY/s1600/Alaskaskagway-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1600" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmK3tkx7nRufBmxvEkGlyqZH1UlI0iW68yNA3035RMiyeRpm_EdCSh93h456l8uHYwYw-9NMLYkeJfpvfc990tWXAeAYM7uYm3P82vpmDjFASJwWkgXxIyRYxZlNgq_TcaudB4XWXSVEY/s400/Alaskaskagway-6.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was John's 49th State! Hawaii - here we come?!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC-MpDHJOJjvbZqJ2oUAioIFy1xdWPnT7a5eQt8EWyFepk_UNS09kwwNrTPrdvwVWr0jEYCGi_LbG3GJYm7qI8J_HEpOmGsSg53w4ypaxqXJ7xujfHrBh3-FWl5L1LAt8ZC3Xx2r3BjGs/s1600/Alaskaskagway.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1600" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC-MpDHJOJjvbZqJ2oUAioIFy1xdWPnT7a5eQt8EWyFepk_UNS09kwwNrTPrdvwVWr0jEYCGi_LbG3GJYm7qI8J_HEpOmGsSg53w4ypaxqXJ7xujfHrBh3-FWl5L1LAt8ZC3Xx2r3BjGs/s400/Alaskaskagway.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two youngest taking care of each other down the gangway. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAYZLLaDiMZmrJwMxv6hXQzonLSJSfQZcRmtoPbdtMXEqSwz9aaQOwEzFMt0SeSlx9ew9lDleFJNcZFvIb4wS-k2DPY0Yz91fBA9bbT0sPcQzHvwkcVz-TrAbLlOEMpVTYf2PEpBGtB1M/s1600/Alaskaskagway-9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1061" data-original-width="1600" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAYZLLaDiMZmrJwMxv6hXQzonLSJSfQZcRmtoPbdtMXEqSwz9aaQOwEzFMt0SeSlx9ew9lDleFJNcZFvIb4wS-k2DPY0Yz91fBA9bbT0sPcQzHvwkcVz-TrAbLlOEMpVTYf2PEpBGtB1M/s400/Alaskaskagway-9.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Skagway was old fashioned wooden sidewalks reminiscent of the Klondike Gold Rush town that it started as.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtNgE1Ac2CEmLyuk3X3VcFtDuk4nmeRyVRPXdlkj-wrzjDNMzzMHKllPG5zj2AizkOSWtz22ljjxLOpsdJwKt7H4HkK3C_G4bR4JdOWEDMHIhPccRWK2IS9I2ALBGE_AddTKZmB1nbxvE/s1600/Alaskaskagway-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtNgE1Ac2CEmLyuk3X3VcFtDuk4nmeRyVRPXdlkj-wrzjDNMzzMHKllPG5zj2AizkOSWtz22ljjxLOpsdJwKt7H4HkK3C_G4bR4JdOWEDMHIhPccRWK2IS9I2ALBGE_AddTKZmB1nbxvE/s400/Alaskaskagway-3.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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We began our time in Skagway by shopping - as any good tourist would. 🙄 Unfortunately I don't wear bikinis since having 6 kids otherwise I'd be all over this. John was uncomfortable with the speedo but we are headed to Europe afterall soooo...<br />
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Fur is in abundance.</div>
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The kids all got sunglasses in Skagway and the boys immediately stopped smiling for all pictures. Sunglasses = impenetrability. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Perusing the 3-D White Pass Rail Pass that we were able to take later in the day. We climbed over 3000 ft. The views were...wow.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigm68soQc3F1Ka_dTH-tTstZi_xert56yVX-noNkzoUccgNEq-mPtQyBcZevOrG181KCi9KEC2_2gNeLnNP0ZBZtvy8Ppc9TmiTRDngw__9IUKvRr2MmhOns3rOEN76qxhsX_I7QRvZlM/s1600/Alaskaskagway-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigm68soQc3F1Ka_dTH-tTstZi_xert56yVX-noNkzoUccgNEq-mPtQyBcZevOrG181KCi9KEC2_2gNeLnNP0ZBZtvy8Ppc9TmiTRDngw__9IUKvRr2MmhOns3rOEN76qxhsX_I7QRvZlM/s1600/Alaskaskagway-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigm68soQc3F1Ka_dTH-tTstZi_xert56yVX-noNkzoUccgNEq-mPtQyBcZevOrG181KCi9KEC2_2gNeLnNP0ZBZtvy8Ppc9TmiTRDngw__9IUKvRr2MmhOns3rOEN76qxhsX_I7QRvZlM/s1600/Alaskaskagway-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigm68soQc3F1Ka_dTH-tTstZi_xert56yVX-noNkzoUccgNEq-mPtQyBcZevOrG181KCi9KEC2_2gNeLnNP0ZBZtvy8Ppc9TmiTRDngw__9IUKvRr2MmhOns3rOEN76qxhsX_I7QRvZlM/s1600/Alaskaskagway-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigm68soQc3F1Ka_dTH-tTstZi_xert56yVX-noNkzoUccgNEq-mPtQyBcZevOrG181KCi9KEC2_2gNeLnNP0ZBZtvy8Ppc9TmiTRDngw__9IUKvRr2MmhOns3rOEN76qxhsX_I7QRvZlM/s1600/Alaskaskagway-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigm68soQc3F1Ka_dTH-tTstZi_xert56yVX-noNkzoUccgNEq-mPtQyBcZevOrG181KCi9KEC2_2gNeLnNP0ZBZtvy8Ppc9TmiTRDngw__9IUKvRr2MmhOns3rOEN76qxhsX_I7QRvZlM/s1600/Alaskaskagway-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigm68soQc3F1Ka_dTH-tTstZi_xert56yVX-noNkzoUccgNEq-mPtQyBcZevOrG181KCi9KEC2_2gNeLnNP0ZBZtvy8Ppc9TmiTRDngw__9IUKvRr2MmhOns3rOEN76qxhsX_I7QRvZlM/s1600/Alaskaskagway-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigm68soQc3F1Ka_dTH-tTstZi_xert56yVX-noNkzoUccgNEq-mPtQyBcZevOrG181KCi9KEC2_2gNeLnNP0ZBZtvy8Ppc9TmiTRDngw__9IUKvRr2MmhOns3rOEN76qxhsX_I7QRvZlM/s1600/Alaskaskagway-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigm68soQc3F1Ka_dTH-tTstZi_xert56yVX-noNkzoUccgNEq-mPtQyBcZevOrG181KCi9KEC2_2gNeLnNP0ZBZtvy8Ppc9TmiTRDngw__9IUKvRr2MmhOns3rOEN76qxhsX_I7QRvZlM/s1600/Alaskaskagway-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigm68soQc3F1Ka_dTH-tTstZi_xert56yVX-noNkzoUccgNEq-mPtQyBcZevOrG181KCi9KEC2_2gNeLnNP0ZBZtvy8Ppc9TmiTRDngw__9IUKvRr2MmhOns3rOEN76qxhsX_I7QRvZlM/s1600/Alaskaskagway-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><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/AVvXsEjpzwttxEGZN5580txKxbpJb14GOWv2OLYjZJxieOpzld7DiaXZKUDIwuY3PDmBaNg-OcCik8YBgQ7KWVKe6Df_uS5mVt2i40ujWI2nn8ATqQKX_vSXflNumfsl5NPXvWuRzPiRWFzNyXQ/s1600/Alaskaskagway-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpzwttxEGZN5580txKxbpJb14GOWv2OLYjZJxieOpzld7DiaXZKUDIwuY3PDmBaNg-OcCik8YBgQ7KWVKe6Df_uS5mVt2i40ujWI2nn8ATqQKX_vSXflNumfsl5NPXvWuRzPiRWFzNyXQ/s400/Alaskaskagway-2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The train that we took up a few hours later. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHGMtL6mVRsuY9d_1qQ9xWQuRPLtyQj3VTw5LrP0rsheiCIsHYzZ-XxiSE0pnakW0_66KYT21M1RGY6jNM4PebEEu4O6H_D2zz0fP1pJAmEzCvCH9_uoC5FnD4u_aEqrWdSkj67zeZDQU/s1600/Alaskaskagway-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1060" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHGMtL6mVRsuY9d_1qQ9xWQuRPLtyQj3VTw5LrP0rsheiCIsHYzZ-XxiSE0pnakW0_66KYT21M1RGY6jNM4PebEEu4O6H_D2zz0fP1pJAmEzCvCH9_uoC5FnD4u_aEqrWdSkj67zeZDQU/s400/Alaskaskagway-7.jpg" width="262" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Skagway is where Jack London visited and was inspired to write his Alaskan novels!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUZzYnnlMiAEP9AGsumm_M7ocjuImuB-jBEr2kBdO7pZM7H4ewpEO5xX42rnAhqVpnMV03JxlBePRIMOlIxKTkY_I_6yDN2ytNgisRcGMX4V40T1TLgsDs8ehX9YFfz4iti02K0p1Jfts/s1600/Alaskaskagway-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1600" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUZzYnnlMiAEP9AGsumm_M7ocjuImuB-jBEr2kBdO7pZM7H4ewpEO5xX42rnAhqVpnMV03JxlBePRIMOlIxKTkY_I_6yDN2ytNgisRcGMX4V40T1TLgsDs8ehX9YFfz4iti02K0p1Jfts/s400/Alaskaskagway-8.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The girls forgot to be detached and cool. At this point the group split up and Thomas and Rosie (on the ends) went the Gran and Uncle Colin and Traci to zipline. Thomas was apparently ever the eager participant. Always listing and ALWAYS first in line. When asked what his name was and where he was from he enthusiastically answered, "Thomas! Maryland, USA!" So for the rest of the adventure they called him, "Thomas Maryland USA!" They LOVED ziplining but I wasn't there to get pictures - preferring my heights to be confined within the walls of a train.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0wpKNbdzHehDsD7rKzE0q0hlYd8JxEefFsYPJvn3QxT-or_P1fQrBVWaAcXWOVbbHpm6ol1qpoMEK0eP7CKzvWVB2wC-Uyph8f9yoVdRAnpoFL6n09x9MobqzrvCT2kqd0hOn8UJaomU/s1600/Alaskaskagway-11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1600" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0wpKNbdzHehDsD7rKzE0q0hlYd8JxEefFsYPJvn3QxT-or_P1fQrBVWaAcXWOVbbHpm6ol1qpoMEK0eP7CKzvWVB2wC-Uyph8f9yoVdRAnpoFL6n09x9MobqzrvCT2kqd0hOn8UJaomU/s400/Alaskaskagway-11.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I think we were still in the rainforest climate at this point.</td></tr>
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The White Pass Rail. Oh my gosh. Easily the most beautiful this I've ever done. With the possible exception of what we did the day before. It's just glory to glory in Alaska. We climbed 3000 ft over an hour and half. We passed through four separate climates: temperate rainforest, sub alpine, alpine and sub-artic. Even though we basically had an 90 minutes on the train the terrain just kept changing and being a whole new experience.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwRbIf0CZNwMPH50DkJ1fq_eQn9QIeHHYivUMgLUAK9vdUFbB0Y9nhcS2V88aQ3AT_yeAC_1S-kRSIeP-OeFk374iiboAKBbIGsXSXfhyfhwBHifRW_1MZoaN_Ia7FXpMcFRxJRathN_Q/s1600/Alaskaskagway-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1060" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwRbIf0CZNwMPH50DkJ1fq_eQn9QIeHHYivUMgLUAK9vdUFbB0Y9nhcS2V88aQ3AT_yeAC_1S-kRSIeP-OeFk374iiboAKBbIGsXSXfhyfhwBHifRW_1MZoaN_Ia7FXpMcFRxJRathN_Q/s400/Alaskaskagway-12.jpg" width="263" /></a></div>
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Standing outside the rail car to get the best views. A little wobbly feeling but it moved slowly enough to be OK. Well, to be honest - I sent the 4 year old back in because I just didn't like the look of the gap on the floor. But again, Alaska! It was my choice to risk or not risk. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMnBIDvU8PY1OcWRUToDrAYiDEUxlxw3Ustf80eDVqlNrolWp5KCQBSbqA_a66G8Wf8VL_Jq052MZHghCa5ctwrv29y7c2TImX0_4i-d1vtMd5nsw4Zm0c7BWlscWM9oCkeU3o2BEqciI/s1600/Alaskaskagway-13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1060" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMnBIDvU8PY1OcWRUToDrAYiDEUxlxw3Ustf80eDVqlNrolWp5KCQBSbqA_a66G8Wf8VL_Jq052MZHghCa5ctwrv29y7c2TImX0_4i-d1vtMd5nsw4Zm0c7BWlscWM9oCkeU3o2BEqciI/s640/Alaskaskagway-13.jpg" width="422" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Either alpine or sub-alpine.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM5ChyphenhyphenjMdhC9ewufAm3nSppaj7DC0E-lIq_XKREqiCVV71j-K4qgeMpSNpAW-so_QgQmL1LAV8i01rn_tqI_gvpHc4TNXm1FOSU_95kaZ7nEQy-IeubUNmQ8y552OG_HHdLxim076BQg8/s1600/Alaskaskagway-14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1600" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM5ChyphenhyphenjMdhC9ewufAm3nSppaj7DC0E-lIq_XKREqiCVV71j-K4qgeMpSNpAW-so_QgQmL1LAV8i01rn_tqI_gvpHc4TNXm1FOSU_95kaZ7nEQy-IeubUNmQ8y552OG_HHdLxim076BQg8/s400/Alaskaskagway-14.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGiLl_gc010ZsrSiDaDYsNJ4dAK8jKuPo4PDT5UvE2FHeIGY6CU57RLIwXKMfD7wqvV3gRCh1sHad4Z9e05q0B6mK_QGmZO6sfxRzhu5PkpjJP_2zkewmibBbtXa3ai75XtyfNeaFOZiU/s1600/Alaskaskagway-15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1600" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGiLl_gc010ZsrSiDaDYsNJ4dAK8jKuPo4PDT5UvE2FHeIGY6CU57RLIwXKMfD7wqvV3gRCh1sHad4Z9e05q0B6mK_QGmZO6sfxRzhu5PkpjJP_2zkewmibBbtXa3ai75XtyfNeaFOZiU/s400/Alaskaskagway-15.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-0epflg98dJGv-3xVats5i2NeJezaVlbN9OrW0VYgQK9v0I8zxih6AAz1pzMrpfQ4LnrQ6Lx7o8kfEQr5BrzM3LxsSyNl0jT2nkaqTlXHhyphenhyphentwE7hRGDL9GSo1Yl59bZtiEOZvF7idlMk/s1600/Alaskaskagway-16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1600" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-0epflg98dJGv-3xVats5i2NeJezaVlbN9OrW0VYgQK9v0I8zxih6AAz1pzMrpfQ4LnrQ6Lx7o8kfEQr5BrzM3LxsSyNl0jT2nkaqTlXHhyphenhyphentwE7hRGDL9GSo1Yl59bZtiEOZvF7idlMk/s400/Alaskaskagway-16.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Those pointy mountains to the right of the background range are the Sawtooth Mountains.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjky-CXh6YIShF3v2TcIE7opGkoq174a4eB8gtWJLJINAHRSc16le7mg-pNRRriyJMO0Obul0ME9BLo9T_On5ykBI_OKkDEhbMBOhjQtQT4yu6qlziXPNCiKsEIfo6aP3KU0MFo3hrI7k0/s1600/Alaskaskagway-17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1061" data-original-width="1600" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjky-CXh6YIShF3v2TcIE7opGkoq174a4eB8gtWJLJINAHRSc16le7mg-pNRRriyJMO0Obul0ME9BLo9T_On5ykBI_OKkDEhbMBOhjQtQT4yu6qlziXPNCiKsEIfo6aP3KU0MFo3hrI7k0/s400/Alaskaskagway-17.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you zoom into this picture you can actually see our ship docked in that tiny bit of water in the middle of the picture.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjNMfNb8A2JOemZCAQEuYGbWSXLHCud85WXyYB0Xv34s2eY9IYg_4NXOEP1GZBNm_owbWjur6APzMZDwXe4olF7EDOrcTRVnLhgN4d8g2pwR9V7l0YJb_jjqDSBcJPetc4PES8svOZ1Gs/s1600/Alaskaskagway-19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1060" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjNMfNb8A2JOemZCAQEuYGbWSXLHCud85WXyYB0Xv34s2eY9IYg_4NXOEP1GZBNm_owbWjur6APzMZDwXe4olF7EDOrcTRVnLhgN4d8g2pwR9V7l0YJb_jjqDSBcJPetc4PES8svOZ1Gs/s640/Alaskaskagway-19.jpg" width="420" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the Alpine climate zone.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjghfKf1Ds-_HRNii9BSbpi0jmWdc3Y-uhKGATirct-B2Rnz5QwntKQyyZtvJmznp7IbkLNIY1WiUtKaIyhch_j6gFLdnSptX69NIR1i11uqZMFuEsvSjNq_1iM2XyD_KYUaEJcQPuhEnE/s1600/Alaskaskagway-20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1600" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjghfKf1Ds-_HRNii9BSbpi0jmWdc3Y-uhKGATirct-B2Rnz5QwntKQyyZtvJmznp7IbkLNIY1WiUtKaIyhch_j6gFLdnSptX69NIR1i11uqZMFuEsvSjNq_1iM2XyD_KYUaEJcQPuhEnE/s400/Alaskaskagway-20.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not the most inspiring picture but this was the border between Alaska and British Columbia, Canada. Because this climate at the border is Sub-Arctic and receives up to 70 ft. of snow (!!!) during the winter both countries actually set their customs building back 7 miles from the actual border where the climate is considered "Alpine" and receives a lot less snow.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp2YXjIMNWzB8Hai1EnGLFJV1nlU0nMdxVbrEGkg21EH21IN1pV29QOf2ju9qweHdwZsZyBWFT2LssI-e7mjsCRtUl9Ul-qHa5utdLB_DbWgfbsI5YkXmJcVZJ3Xg7hTw4P-6NMb6VRnw/s1600/Alaskaskagway-21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1600" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp2YXjIMNWzB8Hai1EnGLFJV1nlU0nMdxVbrEGkg21EH21IN1pV29QOf2ju9qweHdwZsZyBWFT2LssI-e7mjsCRtUl9Ul-qHa5utdLB_DbWgfbsI5YkXmJcVZJ3Xg7hTw4P-6NMb6VRnw/s400/Alaskaskagway-21.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was part of a 3-mile long glacier lake which was 150 ft. deep at some points. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvxoKpbf8AbJjEFir9miN5KFRSnTdzofEG7QQPWgbzgpsJKE20n0u4zRZcCx3FUEXbBGwhsBCOjels0mg3TUHgCPvBI9rPcJ4ujjAn2l75kynsZGAPvVJstGr9EZTV_Buqzf0cVMyi8G8/s1600/Alaskaskagway-22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1600" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvxoKpbf8AbJjEFir9miN5KFRSnTdzofEG7QQPWgbzgpsJKE20n0u4zRZcCx3FUEXbBGwhsBCOjels0mg3TUHgCPvBI9rPcJ4ujjAn2l75kynsZGAPvVJstGr9EZTV_Buqzf0cVMyi8G8/s400/Alaskaskagway-22.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At this point we were pretty solidly in the Sub-Arctic climate zone. Things started to look a little Mordor-y to me. Minus the lava and smoke. The small, shriveled trees in the background of this picture are up to 700 years old! They grow super slowly and never get big and can thus survive the winds and snow that come with their homeland. The wind up here was significantly colder. We dropped at least 10 degrees over the course of the ride.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgccYBgOqIxNtdJauewaF5U6-MA0Mo25IKODV9bNpeiQNLejfYTfPb5T_T4NoWR6C3CjVJarMVHe6L05KEND0jQYns85VvILgJIO2lNNfshRfRudwsFxZMx36s9EGXKmdO5xo-dhZeU-u4/s1600/Alaskaskagway-23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1600" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgccYBgOqIxNtdJauewaF5U6-MA0Mo25IKODV9bNpeiQNLejfYTfPb5T_T4NoWR6C3CjVJarMVHe6L05KEND0jQYns85VvILgJIO2lNNfshRfRudwsFxZMx36s9EGXKmdO5xo-dhZeU-u4/s400/Alaskaskagway-23.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu14yPyHgorFy2R60QN2ArREJKFxr2nab5yFZOeo6oFTtzd-zh94ms92p-f8qWOEoG_3tt7dj71oWAOaZ6B2ATXQO8M5m3ohQoGZn3_KzQcuV1jI-ixkQ3X9IaPiuNLH0K1scpEvAhJgw/s1600/Alaskaskagway-24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1600" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu14yPyHgorFy2R60QN2ArREJKFxr2nab5yFZOeo6oFTtzd-zh94ms92p-f8qWOEoG_3tt7dj71oWAOaZ6B2ATXQO8M5m3ohQoGZn3_KzQcuV1jI-ixkQ3X9IaPiuNLH0K1scpEvAhJgw/s400/Alaskaskagway-24.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These telephone poles are non-functioning now but were part of the US effort during WWII to have a radio option to contact Australia. They were successful! John and I both have grandfathers who were stationed in Alaska during the war so I was excited about these signs of human life way up here.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Re-entering the Alpine climate zone.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCv1YeO5oNMvxoVUMkH25Y6UbKhOKvIvOsKMghQX13_YLHnrkk2gfTNI0I7LRE1stB6HGhGSQD63G-nomZGuj4N1PeZg47YPRnpQqpu5nZ2endwSa8xU_NT4uaD7Z9f1xUzJPNCpF1ikc/s1600/Alaskaskagway-26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1600" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCv1YeO5oNMvxoVUMkH25Y6UbKhOKvIvOsKMghQX13_YLHnrkk2gfTNI0I7LRE1stB6HGhGSQD63G-nomZGuj4N1PeZg47YPRnpQqpu5nZ2endwSa8xU_NT4uaD7Z9f1xUzJPNCpF1ikc/s400/Alaskaskagway-26.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBr4nIR7oRbPwAFNaOmvKGd_xFG1jjEX07pAM1mWYFSYvdOxNQLnqNan6-ecEC-Zik0oBYCJWOgAVBtJ5mUeE1LDHOGI459GOYGN5kdPL57Xl8dXLV6T1ShqWmnMve3l0ten76ZwbcLZo/s1600/Alaskaskagway-27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1060" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBr4nIR7oRbPwAFNaOmvKGd_xFG1jjEX07pAM1mWYFSYvdOxNQLnqNan6-ecEC-Zik0oBYCJWOgAVBtJ5mUeE1LDHOGI459GOYGN5kdPL57Xl8dXLV6T1ShqWmnMve3l0ten76ZwbcLZo/s400/Alaskaskagway-27.jpg" width="263" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The girls spent most of the time climbing all over their uncle. Good sport!</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaw-BN6GigymsF6v43_jrK4rpJTOUtyXh4sk-IYkS1RQeauHb2C-oVBRuYedr4lePXelq4qxkysQMHbmhurMRZlH9CYWc1h5NmoSlMXKAitrWd3Xkwioq7wLC391npNE6w112DGOzSr5k/s1600/Alaskaskagway-28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1600" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaw-BN6GigymsF6v43_jrK4rpJTOUtyXh4sk-IYkS1RQeauHb2C-oVBRuYedr4lePXelq4qxkysQMHbmhurMRZlH9CYWc1h5NmoSlMXKAitrWd3Xkwioq7wLC391npNE6w112DGOzSr5k/s400/Alaskaskagway-28.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZmjxKIM1jg-EjjO6qmxOT_KKywrIiEyR-rqVsbHnYWyoxos999oh4cMwnIb_M0TxIh1h5LSJeH2BrneipP3o1eugE8Pg9XwrrtEf791KFRM4mv5Z92Y9HWgdB5kCtfmM9Zjit_3ywzmI/s1600/Alaskaskagway-29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1600" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZmjxKIM1jg-EjjO6qmxOT_KKywrIiEyR-rqVsbHnYWyoxos999oh4cMwnIb_M0TxIh1h5LSJeH2BrneipP3o1eugE8Pg9XwrrtEf791KFRM4mv5Z92Y9HWgdB5kCtfmM9Zjit_3ywzmI/s400/Alaskaskagway-29.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was Fraser, BC - the end of our route. We went through customs up here (not bad scenery for those customs officials, huh?, boarded our bus and drove back down. </td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWBPJTRrB74sT0idqMFnr8xTJg15O_-HTwms6igFLS6o_gKkyXhEA89AATlG9nnazo4LbPmDi5Q16KTFGSSNlvLfD_n-6AyYCmDNr1Y_TDWqKI5Qex8Ldo29_Wowg6PNCPesUHZrxq2lo/s1600/Alaskaskagway-30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWBPJTRrB74sT0idqMFnr8xTJg15O_-HTwms6igFLS6o_gKkyXhEA89AATlG9nnazo4LbPmDi5Q16KTFGSSNlvLfD_n-6AyYCmDNr1Y_TDWqKI5Qex8Ldo29_Wowg6PNCPesUHZrxq2lo/s400/Alaskaskagway-30.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0HxbVyZB5o9zMOU9-8dPWyZnhfnKZc07ASax89CwvCl7Sh7aW7D6bw8omKMm3IuXuZgVyuJcRwP0eY-TicLHv2mNtvpZUIR3IosH3bESjuE16E4Tn6X72WN1fZ8dmdOkwmErBxwXiWoI/s1600/Alaskaskagway-31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1061" data-original-width="1600" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0HxbVyZB5o9zMOU9-8dPWyZnhfnKZc07ASax89CwvCl7Sh7aW7D6bw8omKMm3IuXuZgVyuJcRwP0eY-TicLHv2mNtvpZUIR3IosH3bESjuE16E4Tn6X72WN1fZ8dmdOkwmErBxwXiWoI/s400/Alaskaskagway-31.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roadtrip AND cruise. All the best worlds.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpI0y9BX73YZ3XHlKupEWUwwh1gaADxWGyalm4kbODCt2l468I9dwIX-1mApeQgvd-M9jdjDe4_paGt_D-JQXKTMai4i1W5e9rZALnGWS1b7ok00y_Lk_FeTJyxE4EpgUjFsueuwT8v4M/s1600/Alaskaskagway-32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1600" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpI0y9BX73YZ3XHlKupEWUwwh1gaADxWGyalm4kbODCt2l468I9dwIX-1mApeQgvd-M9jdjDe4_paGt_D-JQXKTMai4i1W5e9rZALnGWS1b7ok00y_Lk_FeTJyxE4EpgUjFsueuwT8v4M/s400/Alaskaskagway-32.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More of the Sawtooth Mountains.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRseUdXkKy_3FeRQZCy3aDIEHxwmEvE9ozvD_QJtIfsYy0C_2TugNBMOunbUDZBi6WzThp9KUHpRMXfRIQPNC-b86bbGfssK5vWuqVp0ZSp-32zPDtFYFgfT-7VhIBY99sros35hhALwI/s1600/Alaskaskagway-33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1600" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRseUdXkKy_3FeRQZCy3aDIEHxwmEvE9ozvD_QJtIfsYy0C_2TugNBMOunbUDZBi6WzThp9KUHpRMXfRIQPNC-b86bbGfssK5vWuqVp0ZSp-32zPDtFYFgfT-7VhIBY99sros35hhALwI/s400/Alaskaskagway-33.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gold panning at a cheesy Gold-mining camp. I don't recommend this one except for the youngest of travelers. And even then...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ_xJXZJWtvi8UqdVHDP8bbpUdEi-xCYwnZQX8p3YvBXliSuKTwWv74XiUcOVGWQ4NFVbb1Md49Gf3xeu4ZNXyZjkgbUlRyNUpvMSBgf5mbZNffUjxfvYB3btOFpU2G8OPw_KbSsND1So/s1600/Alaskaskagway-34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1600" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ_xJXZJWtvi8UqdVHDP8bbpUdEi-xCYwnZQX8p3YvBXliSuKTwWv74XiUcOVGWQ4NFVbb1Md49Gf3xeu4ZNXyZjkgbUlRyNUpvMSBgf5mbZNffUjxfvYB3btOFpU2G8OPw_KbSsND1So/s400/Alaskaskagway-34.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">FROZEN Sail-Away Dance Party as we pulled out of Skagway (see the great and fearsome Elsa down there in the middle?) Much joy for the 3 and 4 year old. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkSJO1jxCKDbxyALJwRcy0g8R5Ybm_BWCAAdMhcdIW5mchbEspKSp3ZnzRsz3-vZCvrjyrzsINbecH1M38ZFtIfWckJaC_B8f-Q4j1BeZDBVdAYfIJI3kgIoUA1AYdnMRhAoo-YYTiSq4/s1600/Alaskaskagway-35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkSJO1jxCKDbxyALJwRcy0g8R5Ybm_BWCAAdMhcdIW5mchbEspKSp3ZnzRsz3-vZCvrjyrzsINbecH1M38ZFtIfWckJaC_B8f-Q4j1BeZDBVdAYfIJI3kgIoUA1AYdnMRhAoo-YYTiSq4/s400/Alaskaskagway-35.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">11:15 pm.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9D4fECD_d-LnHz0HpqbAZ4qhCOHkR-LIp1eAhNru5fv8rj5JWEV-WHAK35aySOtfGvh2ZJJJ5qkE8obVIGdqVaLUmeIOlUuVTAoJQRXzScGY95xHl-1rTa_N_0gRklWYU5EUnoDYgfFA/s1600/Alaskaskagway-36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9D4fECD_d-LnHz0HpqbAZ4qhCOHkR-LIp1eAhNru5fv8rj5JWEV-WHAK35aySOtfGvh2ZJJJ5qkE8obVIGdqVaLUmeIOlUuVTAoJQRXzScGY95xHl-1rTa_N_0gRklWYU5EUnoDYgfFA/s400/Alaskaskagway-36.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">11:30. </td></tr>
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<br />Alexishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06954534617276979985noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4922814317344909760.post-1888945233534584032017-07-15T08:43:00.001-07:002017-07-21T19:16:40.589-07:00Alaska - Day 5 - JuneauJuneau is the capital of Alaska. It doesn't look very big, does it? I'm assured that we only saw one small part of it but still. I dunno. All roads may lead to Rome but not a single road leads to Juneau. If can only be reached by air or by sea. There is a 50 mile long highway that runs along the coast with roads jutting off of it inland. All of those roads end without leading outside of Juneau though.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgksrEnFxovMM2s6oxFwDu_TZD18yl8NT_2Y0xnPRtifivwprms7KcGmXkJ2-K4MnPZv4F2yN76i9C_nS2X8tSrrrLzcX2BLp9rsH53p5R_yFGT7xGrCu1HQhX74BLI_MEs53JEQIzASLM/s1600/Alaska-96.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1600" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgksrEnFxovMM2s6oxFwDu_TZD18yl8NT_2Y0xnPRtifivwprms7KcGmXkJ2-K4MnPZv4F2yN76i9C_nS2X8tSrrrLzcX2BLp9rsH53p5R_yFGT7xGrCu1HQhX74BLI_MEs53JEQIzASLM/s400/Alaska-96.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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My favorite story about Juneau I unfortunately have no personal photographic evidence of so I have "borrowed" someone else's picture of. You will have to forgive me for not taking a picture when the bus driver began his statement with, "On your left you will get a great view of our famous McDonalds."<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTjw4RPjSS431FPtReoCca3WKY53fwZeUhDRiYS56QWaYJqnn1a3dSu4JRHKfYOl6iyXcrXevtM8D33xbIUj3L8VQzi1AQV0lSRHHQPhpqtnT28EL2_T30zLFN18uF_FWvihqipMIpmKQ/s1600/mcdonalds_life-in-chains.0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="701" data-original-width="1600" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTjw4RPjSS431FPtReoCca3WKY53fwZeUhDRiYS56QWaYJqnn1a3dSu4JRHKfYOl6iyXcrXevtM8D33xbIUj3L8VQzi1AQV0lSRHHQPhpqtnT28EL2_T30zLFN18uF_FWvihqipMIpmKQ/s400/mcdonalds_life-in-chains.0.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://cdn.vox-cdn.com/thumbor/as5tDUOeujieEgVB3hw0bCiIVv8=/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_asset/file/3585994/mcdonalds_life-in-chains.0.jpg" target="_blank">Photo credit</a></td></tr>
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OK, young man - thanks anyway, perhaps I'll focus on those four bald eagles on my right, thank you very much. Then, to my chagrin he told a pretty fascinating story about the golden arches and I wished I had taken the picture. According to the internet it was 1982 and according to my 17 year old tour guide is was 1984 but either way - it was in the early '80s when the Juneau McDonalds had their Grand Opening. It was a big do because this was the first franchise/chain business to open up in Alaska. The entire state. It's a big ol' state. The largest, actually. Obviously, they supplied the new store by barges. The barges were scheduled for once a week. The doors opened at 9 am. As long as the food lasted there was a one-mile long line for the drivethru. People came in seaplanes, boats and four-wheelers. They came and, being very ill-advised as to the shelf-life of McDonald's food (I think we'd all agree that after 20 minutes is the upper limit) filled suitcases and backpacks to bring back home to their remote islands and villages. Over 6 million hamburgers were sold and they ran out of supplies in 3 hours. 12 pm was the Grand Closing. Since then it's been open and they now supply the good people of Juneau by using two barges per week of the good stuff.<br />
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Our next tour was of a nursery in the temperate rainforest. The most interesting thing there (besides the awesome bald eagle flying 20 feet above us (we ended up quite high by the end of the tour) and the Sitka Deer eating three feet from our tram) were the dead-tree planters that are in the background of this picture. In the 90s the owner of this nursery suffered a massive rockslide that took down hundreds of trees and filled his land with dead trunks and other debris. He was moving trees around and recovering the landscape when he more of less accidentally discovered that if you turned the dead trees upside down and "planted" them into the ground you can make really large, interesting planters.<br />
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Cece got totally into her travel journaling here. And the rangers picked her all sorts of leaves and flowers and helped her identify them and press them in her journal. SO different from our rangers down here. "Don't TOUCH the nature! Grow up loving it, valuing it and protecting it for sure! But don't you dare move that stick or pluck that buttercup or climb on that rock." Just another reason that I love Alaska.<br />
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View from the top of Glacial Gardens. That lake is a glacial lake. I think everything is actually glacial somehow.<br />
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The most glorious "gift shop" ever. The entire place was a giant hanging garden.<br />
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Had to get a cheesy heart/Love family picture. Even though we were rather snappish with each other at this point (note Thomas's body language).<br />
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Our own personal "Rock-slide". Do you see me punning?<br />
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This is an important picture for perspective. See the Mendenhall glacier behind me? Look to the right and see that waterfall?<br />
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John and Cece and Gloria hiked over to the waterfall and got this view of it. Majesty is hard to capture with a camera.<br />
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These are our three main ports of call: Anthony is pointing to Skagway. Catherine to Juneau and Rosie to Ketchikan.<br />
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Thomas did this is every taxidermied bear that we saw. Yes, there are many, many taxidermied bears around.<br />
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After several minutes of attempting an everyone looking at the camera picture the unwitting tourist who'd offered abruptly gave up saying, "Well, that about as good as it's gonna get." He gets me.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See that salmon jumping up? He doesn't think this is the end of the journey - he's still battling the uphill streams as far as he can see. They were constantly jumping up against that wall. They can actually jump up to 12 ft in the air and so the workers are often putting fish back in the pool that flopped out.</td></tr>
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OK. The following might be disturbing. Especially if fish gross you out the way they gross me out. However, this was actually my favorite tour that we did (besides White Pass in Skagway). This is the Salmon Hatchery.<br />
Basic facts that were fairly vague in my mind:<br />
*Salmon hatch in fresh water nests built by their parents and after a year or more travel out to the ocean where they live for 3 or 4 year.<br />
*Salmon then, at the end of their life cycle, swim upstream to return to their birth-place/hatch-place. Here they spawn (meaning drop the eggs or sperm).<br />
Basic facts that I didn't know ever:<br />
*As soon as Salmon spawn they are within a week of death. They literally start to rot from the inside out. When they arrive to spawn sometimes they are already disfigured from the process. They are actively dying (like fins missing, eyes missing, etc.).<br />
*Salmon are at the center of the ecosystem in Alaska. SO many different groups of creatures depend on their abundance. Where the salmon are so also will be the bears, eagles, humans, etc. Without this tremendous source of calories and income a lot of Alaska wouldn't function.<br />
*The fishermen all agreed to pay a tax for the Salmon hatcheries to be founded. The Salmon population was descending and so, to augment the fish that are already naturally spawning the 26 hatcheries in Alaska also provide millions of Salmon to the seas each year.<br />
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This fish ramp is the end of the hatchery Salmon's long journey home to spawn and die. They arrive into their fresh water here and their last hurdle is an uphill series of pens where they fight and swim to reach the hatchery, their spawning territory.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The kids getting a good view of the Salmon in one of these small pens fighting their way "upstream".</td></tr>
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We were then allowed in the restricted area (the boys felt pretty 007 about that) to see where the magic happens. Once that giant pool (in the first picture) is full (it's 7 feet deep and still had one foot to fill up while we were there) they start allowing the salmon to cross that one last hurdle. Once they have crossed it they slide down a chute and into a tank where they are electrocuted enough to stun them into stillness. The females are then slit down the middle and their eggs are harvested into a big white bucket (think Home Depot except not orange). The males are then squeezed hard and their sperm (I suppose it's called that) are shot out of them into the white bucket filled with about three females worth of eggs. The fish are dead at this point and their carcasses are assessed for use. Most of them are used for dogfood. The workers were very concerned that we believe that none of the fish go to waste.<br />
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These trays (there is a whole warehouse full of them are then filled with the egg/sperm mixture. Here, they are kept in total and complete darkness in order to mimic their conditions in the rock nests that their wild and free companions enjoy (redlights are used to to period checks on the equipment). Once they are hatched they are moved to a nursery setting where they grow until they are old enough to be put into one of these blue cases.</div>
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Here they live for one more year where the fresh water of this river is "imprinted" on them. They then make their way to the ocean but when they are ready to spawn they will return to this particular spot on this particular river. As you can imagine, bear spotting is particularly easy at the hatcheries.<br />
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We then returned to downtown Juneau and did a little browsing the tourist shops. We found this sign to London. Reminding us that in three weeks we will have travelled over four thousand miles and 11 time zones. BTW - we are still at least 2 hours off of our East Coast time - after almost a week. Alaska is 5 hour behind us and it's rough times getting back on track. We keep having three and four year olds wandering the house at midnight or 1 am after having taken what feels to them like a late-afternoon nap. At 8 pm!<br />
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This was also Pixar-day on the ship and since Inside Out is one of my favorite movies I had to snap this pic of Joy at the Pixar dance party. We also saw the guys from Up, Toy Story, The Incredibles, Monsters Inc.. As far as characters go-this was my favorite day. Although they also have Capt. Jack Sparrow and Captain America for the more male-ish members of a family. Not mine but others maybe.<br />
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By the end of this trip Thomas had tried Caribou, Wild Boar, Alaskan King Crab, Lobster Tail, and Venison. I capitalize those because that's how he thinks about them. He skipped the Escargot but will have another chance in France, no doubt. </div>
Alexishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06954534617276979985noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4922814317344909760.post-69521673057135341952017-07-13T07:20:00.000-07:002017-07-21T19:16:40.613-07:00Alaska - Day 3: Tracy's Arm Fjord<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Day three we woke up to the densest fog. Such fog. We couldn't even see the the water from the deck. This, is apparently, very common. So common in fact that in the last two years the Disney Wonder ship hasn't made it up 30 mile Tracy's Arm Fjord to Sawyer Glacier in the last two years. So we headed off to a "Character breakfast" with the cruise directors announcement that the fog and ice conditions were not looking good and the trip might be cancelled. I was worried. Trying not to be but seriously, I wanted so badly to see this fjord. It's narrow (in some places just big enough for the cruise ship to fit) and 1200 feet deep, surrounded by 7000 foot mountains. Ending at an active glacier. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLYeWqJwskDMqIt3y1-3Qe0ZDM1dQeZIg90CY6H8fqki9Z2cKRM9aVpMTXhOYW_Roar2UpOCLTJeSUOJEYtSYe1ZKxzmimSnEDk3_vz6NgKyAKSBLyJyJnP5mHhmGpeej7hBn2qmgvwtQ/s1600/Alaska-46.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1060" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLYeWqJwskDMqIt3y1-3Qe0ZDM1dQeZIg90CY6H8fqki9Z2cKRM9aVpMTXhOYW_Roar2UpOCLTJeSUOJEYtSYe1ZKxzmimSnEDk3_vz6NgKyAKSBLyJyJnP5mHhmGpeej7hBn2qmgvwtQ/s320/Alaska-46.jpg" width="210" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John being Goofy. The things we do for kids.</td></tr>
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After meeting Goofy, Pluto, Minnie and Mickey we dropped the kids off at the kids club and we made our way up to deck to see that the fog was lifting. Elation! I grabbed the camera and we joined our fellow Alaska lovers on the front of a VERY windy deck. We jockeyed for a position behind the wind shield at the front of the deck.<br />
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It is hard to know how many landscape pictures to share. The truth is that pictures completely fail. After a few lame attempts at panoramics you just feel a little helpless in the photography department. I will share a few here but it really is nothing like being completely surrounded on all side like we were.</div>
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After a few minutes John pointed out dozens of spouts of water all of the area in front of us. He claimed it was whales and I nodded politely but didn't think that it could possibly be whales because there were just too many of them. I had no alternative explanation but it was just too many! Too easy. We weren't on a whale watching venture - just on the deck of the ship. But sure enough - it was whales. According to the naturalist that was on board with us, once you see a whale tale it is diving deep and you won't see that particular whale again for 10-12 minutes.<br />
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It was chilly - and insanely windy if you were on the other side of this shield. So there were staff passing out hot chocolate and mulled wine for those brave souls on deck. Oh the suffering.<br />
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This is on the approach to Tracy's Arm Fjord. Those are some small bits of glacial ice floating all the way out from the glacier. See how blue it is? That's because is takes 12 feet of snow to make one foot of glacial ice. By the time that snow has been compacted the oxygen is squeezed out and the structure of the ice absorbs every other color expect blue. Blue it reflects.<br />
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We had to dip back inside the ship at this point for a champagne tasting. I arrived breathless and dressed way to warmly. I spent the next hour shedding layers. The constant instruction from the cruise director was to "dress like an onion" and it was important. I learned a lot about champagne - mostly because I knew absolutely nothing previously. For example, the reason that the bubbles come up from the bottom of a champagne flute all from one spot instead of from all over (like pop) is because they scratch the bottom of the flute so it's the deepest part of the glass.<br />
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We rushed back up on deck with the kids just as we were entering the Fjord (btw-how cool is that word?).<br />
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Acting on the advice from our waiter we grabbed an outdoor table at the restaurant on the back of the ship so we could eat lunch and view the whole time.<br />
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These are my people. The people camped out on deck with their giant cameras (not that I have a giant camera lens except in my dreams) and hats and jackets - ready to be in Alaska and experience it all. However, the weather was INSANELY nice this afternoon. Close to 70 degrees. By the end of the cruise the cruise director told us that in his 2.5 years of cruising in Alaska he's never seen such nice weather.<br />
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There were dozens of water falls. So many I couldn't keep track.<br />
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I like this picture because it shows how close we were at some points to the sides of this Fjord. The ship took on a local pilot because it obviously takes a lot of specific knowledge and skill to navigate a huge cruise ship down passages this narrow.<br />
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These are 7000 foot peaks in many places.<br />
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That is a glacier on the right - a different one from huge Sawyer glacier that we were headed towards.<br />
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One just wants to start singing, "The hills are alive..."<br />
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I knew we were having a special moment when I saw all sorts of crew members out on deck with their cameras oooing and ahhhhing right along with us. Almost none of them had ever seen this before. The naturalist on board was narrating for about half the time and even though he has a very low-key (non-Disney) tone of voice he was clearly extremely excited to be a part of this too. This was no humdrum Alaska cruise moment.</div>
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This is part of the "S" curve - some of the turns were so sharp that it looked like the ship was going to run into a mountain straight ahead before the turn came into view.<br />
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We saw several seals. Apparently a few weeks before we arrived there was a whole colony calving here.<br />
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There in the center of that V is the first glimpse we had of Sawyer Glacier.<br />
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The ship is able to get to half a mile from it. They had to cancel the smaller boat excursions that could get up closer because of the amount of ice in the passage.<br />
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Thanks to Colin for the picture!<br />
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On our way back out of the Fjord we enjoyed to much emptier decks and leisurely pace. The whole trip was about 5 hours long and I enjoyed every second of it.<br />
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The older kids swam in the heated pool. Still seemed to cold to swim to me but they had absolutely no problem with it.<br />
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After dinner we headed out to have a Great Twirl in the golden hour.<br />
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The boys weren't terribly into the twirling so just jumped and ran around being generally rowdy.<br />
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We put them to bed and headed back up for sunset. These sunset pictures were taken about 10:30 pm. Sunrise was (apparently - I never saw it in person) around 3:30 am.<br />
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Does it get any more beautiful then a moon rise is Alaska?<br />
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Alexishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06954534617276979985noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4922814317344909760.post-91750793472598462342017-07-12T17:46:00.003-07:002017-07-21T19:16:40.621-07:00Alaska Day 2: July 4th<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
We sailed all day on the 2nd day making our way up the inner channel of South East Alaska. The kids woke up and after, "the best breakfast in the WORLD!" (coming from a surly 12 year old that means a lot) they scampered off to kid's club where we checked them in then headed up to the deck. </div>
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There wasn't a single moment on this cruise where land wasn't visible. The entire 1900+ nautical miles were littered by scene after scene of completely unpopulated wilderness. There are no McMansions that overlook the water. No crowded beaches. Just unadulterated wilderness coastline with a handful of towns that don't even have roads that lead into them. The only access is by ship or by plane. <br />
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After a very windy and cold sojourn on deck (temps held in the mid 50s most days - but it's this wind from the ship that'll get you) we took refuge in the gym and then had a nice cappuccino in the the grown-ups only part of the ship. Then we remembered! Princesses! I managed to snag meeting times for 6 princesses in a row and just get that part of the cruise done. It's not my favorite. Well, it's not my favorite until I see how nervous and excited and serious my and 3 and 4 year old are about it. Then it sort of is my favorite.<br />
Cece is 7 and when she was in line to say hi to Princesses Elsa and Anna I saw the moment of disillusionment. "Wait. Those are just people in costumes." Disappointment that they were actually live cartoons settled in. But, being the Positive-Ce that she is she brightened right up and concluded, "Well, I won't tell the little girls until they are older."<br />
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Then we headed up to the deck for a Fourth of July dance party. Live Americana music, icecream (no thankyou, I'm cold enough already), deck blankets, flag waving and the most beautiful views of America that I'd ever seen (until the next day).<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thomas climbing high to wave his flag.</td></tr>
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After all the fun we watched The Frog Princess on deck. Well, they watched and I wandered around just loving the fact that I was actually there.<br />
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"Green mountain majesty."</div>
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At dinner, our server did magic when the kids started to get a little squirrely. On Disney our same servers follow you around to each of the restaurants each week so you really get to know them. This is Claudius. The Catholic Indian with a Roman name.<br />
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Another "little thing" that is a stinking big thing to me is that every bathroom has a child sized sink. A whole week of not having to lift up tiny people to help them wash hands. Simple but gamechanging.<br />
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And of course we started with a swan but we also had: monkey, dinosaur, turtle, bear, squid, hawk and more that I don't remember. <br />
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<br />Alexishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06954534617276979985noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4922814317344909760.post-68406940372810937602017-07-12T16:41:00.001-07:002017-07-21T19:16:40.609-07:00Alaskan Cruise - Day 1<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">ALASKA!!!! We are back and let me tell you. The only thing wrong with that trip is that it didn't go on forever. I could have used at least a month there. Someday, God willing, I will go back and do more and stay longer. It is an absolutely stunning and overwhelmingly breathtaking place to see. I keep looking around at my familiar (and loved) places here at home and thinking about how much richer it all is now that I know that this is the same world that has Alaska in it. I guess I always KNEW but seeing is believing, as they say. Did you know that Alaska’s last Aleutian islands are actually further West then Hawaii and also cross into the Eastern Hemisphere making Alaska both the most Western and most Eastern state. And there more Alaska trivia where that came from, no fear!</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Day One - Vancouver’s Stanley Park</span></div>
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<span class="s1">After another visit to Tim Horton’s we bussed our way down to Vancouver’s famous Stanley Park (top left peninsula. The entire park is surrounded by water.) </span></div>
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<span class="s1">There is a gorgeous Seawall that we walked around for miles. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I took this picture mainly because I crack up at boat gas stations. They make me laugh. I don't know why.</td></tr>
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There was quite a haul of sea life left over from the tide. Beachcombing was very profitable for our treasure hunters. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thomas's first view of the Pacific Ocean (and mine, Anthony, Rosie, Cece, Catherine and Glo Glo's)</td></tr>
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But there were also amazing woodsy hikes.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK97q1Obh4zJYQarw9K2iir-2wEwJ4aDnbZ7xXsJag7zIz-IfATcHbMgJ8l5qIyRn0pkyTQ39K2wQj0B6zbVTucRsNNhnPVe5LqmtS0fT-0J-PXzK7pegPtlyhSg7VkTQLPByd92ZDbAs/s1600/Alaska-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1600" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK97q1Obh4zJYQarw9K2iir-2wEwJ4aDnbZ7xXsJag7zIz-IfATcHbMgJ8l5qIyRn0pkyTQ39K2wQj0B6zbVTucRsNNhnPVe5LqmtS0fT-0J-PXzK7pegPtlyhSg7VkTQLPByd92ZDbAs/s400/Alaska-5.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The SIZE of these trees. </td></tr>
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And the gardens were gorgeous. Especially the rose garden. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PURPLE roses. Very purple.</td></tr>
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By this time we were REALLY tired. The seawall surrounding this park is 9 kilometers long. We did not walk all of it. Also, we immediately started regretting not bring a stroller for Gloria. We continued regretting this until halfway through the cruise we figured out that you can borrow one (for FREE!) from the ship. Glory, Glory, Gloria!</div>
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And here are just a couple of glimpses of the mountains that we were to spend the next 7 days surrounded by.</div>
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We took a city bus back to the hotel and made our way onto the ship. That sentence makes it seems like it was simple. Don't be fooled. </div>
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This picture makes it seem like it was simple. Don't be fooled.</div>
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But make it we did and then we had a rockin' Sail Away Dance Party complete with Micky and Minnie visits. </div>
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And once you are on a Disney Cruise you are truly on vacation. Let me give you parents out there a little taste for what I mean. Your children order 6 meals at dinner. The meals get distributed. You take a swig of your drink turn to help them out and! Lo and behold! These ultra-servers have CUT YOUR CHILDREN'S FOOD. Cut the children's food. I don't need to cut the children's food. For a WEEK! Yes, that sound you heard was my giant sigh of relief. Not only that, but John was bouncing a fussy infant on his lap when his steak was served and the next thing he knew they had cut his food so he could eat his steak with one hand. These people are professionals in knowing how to turn a trip into a vacation for parents. It's almost miraculous after 12 years of taking trips instead of vacations. I literally got tears in my eyes when I realized that those people are also there to make sure that John and I had a great time too. I might be a little tired ;).<br />
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Alexishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06954534617276979985noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4922814317344909760.post-1193206374621191862017-07-02T21:33:00.003-07:002017-07-21T19:16:40.584-07:00Vancouver Interlude: In Which We Watch the Canada Day Parade from a Tim HortonsI DO want to get to the 2nd post about prepping for Europe but I'm going to take a brief interlude from prepping (both in real life and the blog) in order to savor and enjoy this amazing vacation that my MIL is taking us on to Alaska. This trip was actually planned long before the Oxford sabbatical was even a twinkle in our mind's eye. We are going on a Disney cruise tomorrow from Vancouver to Juneau.<br />
So we arrived in Vancouver today after 12 hours of travel involving a few ubers, a few taxis, a few airports. Pretty stinking awesome that we can cross a continent in so few hours.<br />
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Flying into Vancouver felt like watching Lost or what I imagine going to Hawaii might be like. Look at this place!</div>
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And then we get into the airport and it's like a cross between an airport and a natural history museum. </div>
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With waterfalls all over the place. Even one running down parallel to the escalators (not pictured because six kids and escalators). </div>
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The Customs agent greeted us with a "Bonjour". Raising many questions from the kids who didn't grow up next to Windsor and watching Canadian Sesame Street (CBC, anyone?). </div>
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After the 12 hours of traveling we had one last taxi drive which took a WHILE because who knew that Vancouver be a big ol' city?! Third largest in the country and will soon surpass Montreal AND Toronto, according to my taxi driver from Morocco.</div>
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Another cool thing about Vancouver is that it's downtown is 80% residential - people are living there. It's so nice to see a city crowded with actual humans forging their life through and with and around each other. We got to forge through a little with them too, actually because all of these 80%-ers were out in the streets for the Canada Day parade which our hotel was smack dab in the middle of. I mean, literally in the middle of. Like, walk out the door wearing a maple leaf or just a little too much red and you will be sailing down the street leading a marching band. So me and my four youngest children and my 15 year old brother in law sat in traffic and then had to hoof it a couple blocks (with 5 pieces of luggage and 6 backpacks) through and with and around all 80% of Canadians celebrating 150 years of togetherness. Even the four year old had to pull double duty.</div>
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But after we got settled in the hotel room...</div>
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we all agreed that we would go out and see what this parade was all about and try and track down some quick food. </div>
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And THAT is how we ended up watching a Canada Day Parade on their 150th anniversary FROM A TIM HORTONS. </div>
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No, I am not kidding. This is by far the most Canadian-y I have ever been. It was all kinds of AMAZING.</div>
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Here, FOR EXAMPLE, is Captain Canada: I didn't even know that I didn't know that there was a Captain Canada. But now, blessedly, I know.</div>
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So we waved flags, we cheered, we caught the tail end of the Mounties,</div>
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we ate TimBits and life was good.</div>
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Until I let a bit of our typical American malarky spill out. </div>
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No child! No! No hitting each other with Canadian flags. Respect the leaf, man. Respect the leaf. The leaf does not do violence. Not on Canada Day. </div>
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Don't look at me that way. Put that American-sass right back in your pocket, Shorty.</div>
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The night ended with many tears. Because, as John likes to say, if you don't end with tears then you probably didn't get your money's worth. </div>
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Alexishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06954534617276979985noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4922814317344909760.post-22413313227545361512017-06-07T19:44:00.002-07:002017-07-21T19:16:40.594-07:00The Build Up in Pictures - Part 1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
SEPTEMBER</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz0IeMP3nU_89TI_MbfiJX7UfSmyteVGcw3eToITaQ-oVMizY1v92gFhsQXpy_roixCSIvJDxCT4sSSfZuB_n9KK2KgKqoI7G1vUD5sHbn12hUuBlLPxQL1rjcmS5Faerg0JfGwl89nEk/s1600/untitled-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz0IeMP3nU_89TI_MbfiJX7UfSmyteVGcw3eToITaQ-oVMizY1v92gFhsQXpy_roixCSIvJDxCT4sSSfZuB_n9KK2KgKqoI7G1vUD5sHbn12hUuBlLPxQL1rjcmS5Faerg0JfGwl89nEk/s320/untitled-3.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our 13th anniversary was the day we found out we were heading to England for the year. Lucky 13 for us. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil8crH4vY9xvTEKueEMZOSuDUYnF4TJ68tuuHRqTrZqA2r0duz44QViGzCXJZXFkUGgbO-KKC6VSJnTvbiHQ-BtZ37WEt0950HL59zKJzCY-seAV4Ao6TIzG1wKlctOygYLMtPaIttzZk/s320/untitled-4.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After dinner we headed headed directly to the used bookstore and to the travel section. </td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil8crH4vY9xvTEKueEMZOSuDUYnF4TJ68tuuHRqTrZqA2r0duz44QViGzCXJZXFkUGgbO-KKC6VSJnTvbiHQ-BtZ37WEt0950HL59zKJzCY-seAV4Ao6TIzG1wKlctOygYLMtPaIttzZk/s1600/untitled-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil8crH4vY9xvTEKueEMZOSuDUYnF4TJ68tuuHRqTrZqA2r0duz44QViGzCXJZXFkUGgbO-KKC6VSJnTvbiHQ-BtZ37WEt0950HL59zKJzCY-seAV4Ao6TIzG1wKlctOygYLMtPaIttzZk/s1600/untitled-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvIQX8ZIp1AMhtrmPJY0sWQnSR3qxI4S4DdCS-AC_UNECv3QzkifbZ3CnOnLhU4kxtvx9zwr1U5bt0QvDURSlWr81FTFTxXvUy0_9e1R_LSur5ltlQzHhXfqpm5aUaqoCTosO1hK89oiY/s1600/untitled-9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvIQX8ZIp1AMhtrmPJY0sWQnSR3qxI4S4DdCS-AC_UNECv3QzkifbZ3CnOnLhU4kxtvx9zwr1U5bt0QvDURSlWr81FTFTxXvUy0_9e1R_LSur5ltlQzHhXfqpm5aUaqoCTosO1hK89oiY/s320/untitled-9.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhozJeAjIwD5zK1CRMWQCLeiNkUdRPbH4pme1GBx7dKVgY0usvCFITb2fSV3KDQ2g9SD1xJj8S-s58dkVeBR82Bvg-YaPE1A3fqtKTSzBtMpmQBcwgfU9cIa8cmxphO9BW9ulMI_0dZHFg/s1600/untitled-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhozJeAjIwD5zK1CRMWQCLeiNkUdRPbH4pme1GBx7dKVgY0usvCFITb2fSV3KDQ2g9SD1xJj8S-s58dkVeBR82Bvg-YaPE1A3fqtKTSzBtMpmQBcwgfU9cIa8cmxphO9BW9ulMI_0dZHFg/s320/untitled-10.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Came home with a healthy load of evening reading.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyJGdryQxlYJWE8cGvyKzU7fjqr2jYXVVlKgJrnLVbfYXrsDCuNQbT4H2J4OGNXlU8OEYEuUtk2tt7ro2UkGNFYpbd5-Azq57G7MOXABz9__8CRG0lPOxGD76sECNfZzMqXzGBX5lZ5tY/s1600/untitled-11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyJGdryQxlYJWE8cGvyKzU7fjqr2jYXVVlKgJrnLVbfYXrsDCuNQbT4H2J4OGNXlU8OEYEuUtk2tt7ro2UkGNFYpbd5-Azq57G7MOXABz9__8CRG0lPOxGD76sECNfZzMqXzGBX5lZ5tY/s320/untitled-11.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The next day John came home with this awesome bird's eye view of our year - including lists of our kid's name-places to visit, family history places to visit, lists of literature to read. We are more or less sticking to these broad outlines.</td></tr>
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OCTOBER</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWD9EVekfQ-M0n2R-9sb11RqvTnCuct8UtcVC_F8J8V7cKnOjvnEFQkJ2POjb4FH8QZR0FTCVt5SUTiT-fZ4T6HQsamy9a6nzohf5qcjWLkP7wSJTd3RWjzw6-aiI0JbcTpU9Abrx8iis/s1600/untitled-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWD9EVekfQ-M0n2R-9sb11RqvTnCuct8UtcVC_F8J8V7cKnOjvnEFQkJ2POjb4FH8QZR0FTCVt5SUTiT-fZ4T6HQsamy9a6nzohf5qcjWLkP7wSJTd3RWjzw6-aiI0JbcTpU9Abrx8iis/s320/untitled-12.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Next came the Sabbatical Proposal. Turned it it and wait. </td></tr>
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NOVEMBER</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Request approved!</td></tr>
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DECEMBER</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The official invitation from Blackfriars, Oxford. It's all coming together!!!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Buying the airline tickets! Dulles to Reykjavik, Iceland (with a stop for fun) and on to London, England. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Planning our roadtrip. Dover, Calais, Normandy, Lisieux, Giverny, Paris, Waterloo, Brussels, Amsterdam, Harlem, Rhine River, Bavaria, Salzburg, Gaming, Vienna, Krakow, Venice, Milan, Switzerland, Nevers (we are hoping to do Rome and other Italy in the Spring) and finally land safely in Oxford. Six weeks. One van. Three suitcases. Eight Loves. Unlimited awesome. </td></tr>
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<br />Alexishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06954534617276979985noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4922814317344909760.post-91004042850472132112017-06-07T13:12:00.000-07:002017-07-21T19:16:40.617-07:00Travel InsightsI don't want to repost many things here but in this case there is really no way that I could say this any better. This article explains exactly what I think (and don't think) about travel and self-discovery. It is quite long but well-worth the time. It is thoughtful, insightful and for us, extremely relevant. Though it really is relevant for anyone as it it speaks mostly about self-discovery and seeking holiness. It articulates many of my own vague instincts that I never got around to fully realizing until I read them here. Without further ado: <a href="http://www.artofmanliness.com/2016/05/31/against-the-cult-of-travel-or-what-everyone-gets-wrong-about-the-hobbit/" target="_blank">Against the Cult of Travel: Or What Everyone Gets Wrong About the Hobbit</a><br />
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<br />Alexishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06954534617276979985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4922814317344909760.post-47326658364415830832017-05-21T19:37:00.000-07:002017-07-21T19:16:40.605-07:00Four years ago I wrote that I had a "reason to blog." Apparently I had more reasons not to! Ah well, no biggie. We'll just pick back up here. I've have another baby since then. Gloria, Glo, Glo-stick or Stick for short. She has been a total pain in the butt and joy to the heart. She is now three and sleeping in her own bed and going potty on the toilet and so I don't really know what to say except that I am still in process of accepting that she's not really a baby. But she's still my baby and no one can tell me otherwise.<br />
So, the reason for the resurrection of blogging is that we are about to have a LOT of adventures that we don't want to forget and that we want to share with our family and friends and stalkers. Note the side bar for full explanation.<br />
We leave the very end of July for OXFORD! We are roadtripping around the Continent for six weeks first however and are in deep planning for both of these distinctly different types of adventures. The primary purpose of this post is to catch the blog up to this point. I think I'm just going to post my Christmas Letter from this past year and fill in a couple gaps.<br />
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: x-small;">December, 14, 2016</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Dear friends and family,</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>Merry Christmas from all the Loves! If the length of this letter wears you out upon first glance then feel free to toss it in the trash. It is not my fault that John brought me a gin and tonic as I sat down to write it and that gin increases my verbosity. If you continue to read then I hope this missive is finding you happy, healthy and safe. If it doesn't then I sincerely hope that you receive comfort and consolation this Christmas season. We are doing well here in The Burg with life being very busy and full all the time. Busy with great activities and opportunities for growth and full of friends and community. That is our general info that more or less stays the same year to year (Thanks Be To God).</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">John - John’s update for the year includes the rest of the family. In November of this year he received an invitation from the Dominicans at Oxford to come next year as a visiting scholar. With the approval of his University and the financial generosity of family and institutions we are all heading over to Oxford next year from August to June. While we are in Oxford, John will be writing a commentary on St. Thomas Aquinas’s Summa Theologiae (the second part). In between that epic writing project we hope to shuttle the kids hither and yon on the continent and Great Britain. Words fail to express the gratitude and excitement this opportunity</span><br />
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: x-small;">inspires in us. Once in a lifetime for all eight of us! (WHO GETS TO DO THIS?! Gratitude, thy name is Love Family).</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Alexis - Less jaw-dropping updates from this quarter. I am still reaping the benefits of the kids being in a Homeschool Academy (a hybrid homeschool/classical school that meets two days a week and assigns work the other three days). I have Mondays at home with my littles when I can read Good Night Moon and Pajama Time and prepare soups for the dark winter days and consolidate calendars and grocery shop. Sometimes I jog and sometimes I read. It’s a lovely day of the week. It feel like I get to be a person, a mom and a homemaker in addition to a home-educator (my full-time occupation the other 4 days of the week) since we are in this co-op. However, next year’s role of full-time tour guide and traveling-with-six-kids-expert-in-the-making is looking very inviting as I peruse DK travel guides all night, every night. Unless I’m watching BBC’s Pride and Prejudice or Brideshead Revisited (also considered “research” into British culture). </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Anthony (12) - Anthony loves the Co-op. He enjoys the both the academic rigor, the structure and the social aspects that it affords him. When not parsing English or Latin grammar (at which he far surpasses my own abilities and often John’s…in fact, I’ll have to have him proofread this parenthetical statement, I’m quite certain there’s something wrong with it…) he enjoys being on the soccer field more then anything else. He’s coming along as quite a defender and he is rarely surpassed by another player in the level of engagement he has in the game. He and Gloria are chummy and she adores, “my big brudder, Antio.” This is a limerick he composed about her: </span><br />
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: x-small;">“We call our Little One, Glo.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: x-small;">She likes to exclaim, “No, no!”</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: x-small;">And hiding in nooks</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I wish I could not let her grow.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Rosemary (9) - Our sweet little artist. Rosie has been in 2 different weekly art classes this year and really impresses me with her ability to get what she envisions out of a pencil. She also works really hard in school, is deliberate and rarely requires my help. In fact, she regularly runs “Tot time” which is her version of preschool with Catherine and Gloria. She’s much craftier then I am so they appreciate her intervention into their early education almost as much as I do. She is also emotionally a (relatively) stable element in the house. We Loves, are none of us super even-keeled, but she is our version of such a person. I love her and cherish her.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Thomas (8) - Oh Thomas! Thomas has been described to me by his tutors as: energetic, enthusiastic, extroverted, excitable, eager, exhilarated and engaged. I will break the trend by using an “i” word. This child is intense. He is one of those kids who raises the level of energy in the room significantly by his entrance…before he's done a thing. He is never bored, he is never uninterested. The difficulty with him is finding enough things to channel the enthusiasm into. For example, all the children began a new math program this year and they all love it (because it is computer-based and who doesn’t love a screen?). After 5 days of school Rosie had completed 9 lessons, Anthony has completed 13 lessons. Thomas had completed 31 lessons. He is always running at about triple the enthusiasm of other kids. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Cecilia (7) - Cece is such a great “smack-dabber”. Smack-dab in the middle of the family and always wanting to be a part of the team. She is inclusive and positive. We had a epic-fail procuring a Christmas Tree this year. We tried to switch tree farms to save a few bucks. Even John and I had trouble mustering enthusiasm for the experience compared to our regular annual tradition that costs more than twice as much but is infinity more fun, and there was more then one child alternating between weeping loudly and raging furious accusations about our pecuniarious “ruining of Christmas.” Cece however looked at each Charlie-Brown-Worthy tree and a smilingly shouted, “I LOVE that tree! And that tree LOVES ME!” And I love her. We call moment’s like that, “The Power of Positive-Ce”. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Catherine (4) - Catherine is totally normal when it comes to wanting to run with the big kids and “do it myself” and other such developmental standards. What sets her apart in our family is that she is so tuned into how other people are feeling and how her actions effect them. She still has her toddler/preschooler moments, certainly. But she’s our only kid who regularly apologizes for her outbursts unprompted. It’s amazing. I often wish that some of her innate sense of perspective, sensitivity and maturity would rub off on me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Gloria (2) - She’s very two. She completely adores her older siblings and runs with the pack. Except when she’s snuggling with John. Or me, in a pinch. She’s our only kid to follow her Uncle James’s method of replacing the “f”-sound with the “p” sound. My favorite phrase being how she describes a burp, “Oh! I parted!…in my mouf.” Again, sometimes I wish for Catherine’s maturity.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">In conclusion, we are happy and we wish you happiness. We are healthy and we hope for your health. We are safe and we pray for your safety. We are blessed and we are grateful for this Christ-child and for this life that he has given us. Merry, merry Christmas!</span><br />
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Love, the Loves</span></span></div>
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<br />Alexishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06954534617276979985noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4922814317344909760.post-60724983211510569162013-05-08T14:53:00.002-07:002013-05-08T14:59:36.320-07:00A reason to blogI was speaking to a wise and insightful priest who was giving me some advce about structuring my life and he said something worth passing on. He said that there is a difference between work and labor. That labor is cyclical and is never really finished (does LAUNDRY coming blaring it's trumpet into anyone elses minds?) while work produces a lasting product. <br />
A great deal of my life (of any homemaker's life) is consumed with necessary labor. Cleaning, cooking, laundry, diapers, even a lot of our schooling can easily fall into the labor category. This explains why occasionally I will spend a week making really nice, time-intensive meals - even though that means that we don't have a clean house. It also explains why I sometimes spend time cleaning out baskets, drawers or cupboards that no one ever sees. Or why I enjoy hanging the clothes on the line in the summer even though it takes me longer to finish the laundry. I am trying to imbue some more meaning into my labor by taking extra time with it, to give it dignity and raise it closer to the level of work. Because it is very hard to do this full-time mothering thing long-term. <br />
This <a href="http://www.ted.com/talks/dan_ariely_what_makes_us_feel_good_about_our_work.html">video</a> from TED describes a study that was done about work and meaningful work (or labor vs. work). He describes how they gave people lego figures to build and first told people they would be disassembled eventually but put them under a table. In the second instance they actually dissassembled the finshed lego figure as the person was building the next one. And at about 7:40 into the video (the whole thing is worth watching - especially as fodder for contemplating a homemakers life) he makes this excellent point. "By breaking things in front of peoples eyes we basically CRUSHED any joy that they could get out of this activity." Ummmm...can we say, "welcome to my life"? There is is folks. Science confirms it. <br />
Every person who stays at home just to watch their children systematically destroy every bit of effort and work that they put forth can give a hearty "AMEN" to that point. <br />
<br />
P.S.<br />
I actually experience home-schooling to be more work then labor and it is one of the reasons that I am able to stay home with my kids even though so much of my daily life can seem uninspired and uninspiring. I mean one can only read so many of those "savor the moment, young mother" memes and still have them mean something to you. After a while you just want to DO something that stays done! Like teaching someone how to read or reading the Secret Garden or even planning for next year. That is one way I cope. Blogging is another...unless of course Blogspot deletes my post...sometime's it's as bad as my kids. Alexishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06954534617276979985noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4922814317344909760.post-1006795718748479432013-04-14T06:00:00.001-07:002013-04-14T06:00:42.362-07:00Ahhh, the personalities.<div style="padding-bottom: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; float: none; padding-top: 0px" id="scid:5737277B-5D6D-4f48-ABFC-DD9C333F4C5D:25678b74-63a1-4db3-890a-4fecce2e6ad0" class="wlWriterEditableSmartContent"><div id="0db7a06b-1f34-426a-b53c-b92bb42cd373" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; display: inline;"><div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S8-xaRCsWJc&feature=youtube_gdata_player" target="_new"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-d4GqY7OMrRs/UWqodLjK4aI/AAAAAAAAA-A/BvhJGWcIAxI/video5f0dd1cac4b8%25255B6%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-style: none" galleryimg="no" onload="var downlevelDiv = document.getElementById('0db7a06b-1f34-426a-b53c-b92bb42cd373'); downlevelDiv.innerHTML = "<div><object width=\"448\" height=\"252\"><param name=\"movie\" value=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/S8-xaRCsWJc?hl=en&hd=1\"><\/param><embed src=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/S8-xaRCsWJc?hl=en&hd=1\" type=\"application/x-shockwave-flash\" width=\"448\" height=\"252\"><\/embed><\/object><\/div>";" alt=""></a></div></div></div> <div style="padding-bottom: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; float: none; padding-top: 0px" id="scid:5737277B-5D6D-4f48-ABFC-DD9C333F4C5D:d92e3002-b5f4-408c-a391-0def39aa29a2" class="wlWriterEditableSmartContent"><div id="e878e89d-13f3-4cea-9966-b8f8626e0b3c" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; display: inline;"><div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5t8l3vEf4Pc&feature=youtube_gdata_player" target="_new"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM67FsdXN8xnE9p8Bm1xbPUCb6jzkX_5B-FRCuf5evWYTXTj-HTqTlOMqM1s0tvhZCuYxFseroUtJaHkjpuZ7jk4w44wlv0d5PHV15f-ndysfiyheIbPiv0b2l_H3pw40o-j_2v-0WcDo/?imgmax=800" style="border-style: none" galleryimg="no" onload="var downlevelDiv = document.getElementById('e878e89d-13f3-4cea-9966-b8f8626e0b3c'); downlevelDiv.innerHTML = "<div><object width=\"448\" height=\"252\"><param name=\"movie\" value=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/5t8l3vEf4Pc?hl=en&hd=1\"><\/param><embed src=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/5t8l3vEf4Pc?hl=en&hd=1\" type=\"application/x-shockwave-flash\" width=\"448\" height=\"252\"><\/embed><\/object><\/div>";" alt=""></a></div></div></div> <div style="padding-bottom: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; float: none; padding-top: 0px" id="scid:5737277B-5D6D-4f48-ABFC-DD9C333F4C5D:a9d03c7c-0930-4977-a151-096248f7ea3c" class="wlWriterEditableSmartContent"><div id="bc44f502-5666-460d-b3ad-2e6ea0895576" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; display: inline;"><div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yxAmGKIvQRM&feature=youtube_gdata_player" target="_new"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPNovPONFZfDYWEg-UoJuxGSO6Cv9inx8F68ajqiRCTL-3iBZp5jfGxkvguBMU9_9lwRZAmF6GNPUNFd7P5G1D85e21YZfpNrKPnm4REpkGNcbRrQHadRQOqhKdm99F-82Q06jfFfKTbk/?imgmax=800" style="border-style: none" galleryimg="no" onload="var downlevelDiv = document.getElementById('bc44f502-5666-460d-b3ad-2e6ea0895576'); downlevelDiv.innerHTML = "<div><object width=\"448\" height=\"252\"><param name=\"movie\" value=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/yxAmGKIvQRM?hl=en&hd=1\"><\/param><embed src=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/yxAmGKIvQRM?hl=en&hd=1\" type=\"application/x-shockwave-flash\" width=\"448\" height=\"252\"><\/embed><\/object><\/div>";" alt=""></a></div></div></div> <div style="padding-bottom: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; float: none; padding-top: 0px" id="scid:5737277B-5D6D-4f48-ABFC-DD9C333F4C5D:cef1062e-a6fd-4b9e-9c37-77f2c762fc27" class="wlWriterEditableSmartContent"><div id="0fdda5f9-c7a1-4795-af7a-fa5795161391" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; display: inline;"><div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Q0sLRHe8mo&feature=youtube_gdata_player" target="_new"><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-jY1q2KvEyiM/UWqoeDJMn_I/AAAAAAAAA-Y/NjtNz03H6d0/video6da8502ca27d%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-style: none" galleryimg="no" onload="var downlevelDiv = document.getElementById('0fdda5f9-c7a1-4795-af7a-fa5795161391'); downlevelDiv.innerHTML = "<div><object width=\"448\" height=\"252\"><param name=\"movie\" value=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/1Q0sLRHe8mo?hl=en&hd=1\"><\/param><embed src=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/1Q0sLRHe8mo?hl=en&hd=1\" type=\"application/x-shockwave-flash\" width=\"448\" height=\"252\"><\/embed><\/object><\/div>";" alt=""></a></div></div></div> Lexhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209362397369062854noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4922814317344909760.post-38522910963307738072013-04-13T06:53:00.001-07:002013-04-13T06:53:43.069-07:00The Price of Peace: The Child Tax Law<p>Yesterday, in between a series of social units I had three hours of time at home with the kids. I thought it would be nice to get about 15 minutes alone(ish) in garden to pull up our accidental harvest of carrots since the ground was nice and soft from the rain. So I grabbed my rain boots, my trowel and my four year old and we started pulling out carrots. <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-U7KHgxpZ8aU/UWljWCxmi3I/AAAAAAAAA80/ZohOGaccZjE/s1600-h/photo%2525204%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="photo 4" border="0" alt="photo 4" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-nsfXPeWhV1A/UWljWq_PoeI/AAAAAAAAA88/PauH07JsXl0/photo%2525204_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="366" height="486"></a> <p>Everyone was accounted for: the baby was getting a much-needed nap after being schlepped around all morning and afternoon, Anthony was doing some therapeutic baking (he nearly always comes home and bakes after having a day of social units that tax his poor introverted soul), and Cece and Rosie were taking a bath after both having accidents in their pants (I don't even want to talk about it...). So I took the remaining wild-card child to the garden for some Mom-n'-Tom time. <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-8e8sg_Xwt3-a1Fywn5yD992ihjUEZqHOVFpMlfggIxOP1PiSz9sOazVJkVfjSQwvobrvVOOkoUyVTrSDweBnjXvj9kvYMvk03NOyxkX88vyIk8cSGCHfPvQIQHGxvUtd2V7S6EbGZjE/s1600-h/photo%2525205%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="photo 5" border="0" alt="photo 5" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVcLKckxWQQpYFwWOEcdmagQ3V4C78CC4jOYnIMgRT2BmAgpeCuMWKmFC51e4x5v0ygW8LcDtdKod-5w4iPjoLeAijI1K8wxd3ALwiBajF-FBY7_0Q4geCDbJSbD-b1rhWCb2DRaqzsaI/?imgmax=800" width="366" height="486"></a> <p>While I was out there I was thinking about how my life wasn't all that bad. "See? Look, at this, my kids are getting old enough to grab a moment here and there of peace and the warmer weather opens up my world to about a quarter of an acre instead of 1400 sq. feet. Ahhhh"...I felt rejuvenated walking back to the compost heap to dump a few buckets of clippings, hosing off the dirt from the carrots, feeding the bunny and giving her some exercise. Good stuff. About 15 minutes is all I needed to recognize the true fact that I have a good, blessed life. <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-H4EPKLBj4Gw/UWljYfzviRI/AAAAAAAAA9U/0HVMZ_8v8s4/s1600-h/photo%2525202%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="photo 2" border="0" alt="photo 2" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-pd6sBZhV3pI/UWljY-nczmI/AAAAAAAAA9c/Awvedmx55xE/photo%2525202_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="646" height="486"></a> <p>But nothing in life is free. <p>I came into the boys fighting; the baking project abandoned and a kitchen covered with bowls and spoons and flour; the girls standing on the stairs wrapped in towels with bubbles streaming down their hair and face crying because they got soap in their eyes; soapy water covering the the floor from the bathroom all down the hallway and mixed with a bucket of dirt and pine needles that they had spilled earlier and; of course, the baby wide awake - thank you girls for crying so loudly. <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ehV9fnPC9xw/UWljZGqbSbI/AAAAAAAAA9k/SSLqOxk02t8/s1600-h/photo%2525203%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="photo 3" border="0" alt="photo 3" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-b2HcY6jNU2w/UWljZq1nsRI/AAAAAAAAA9s/-qTmRQW7vi0/photo%2525203_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="366" height="486"></a> <p>Sometimes all you need to gain a little perspective on your life is a break from it for a short period. But the problem is that nothing is free as a mom. These children tax every bit of freedom and independence that I try to take from them and most of the time the tax is not worth the break. <p>But yesterday it was. I will hopefully keep remembering the smell of the soil and spring air, the feel of the wet grass, the soft fur of Lippity, the sound of nesting birds and the sweetness of carrot-harvesting with Thomas. And, maybe, MAYBE someday I won’t even mind remembering the tax I had to pay for that moment. Lexhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209362397369062854noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4922814317344909760.post-71856863353462496902013-04-08T10:16:00.001-07:002013-04-08T10:16:59.303-07:00Whatever is good, whatever is true, whatever is beautiful…<p>HEADLINE: Parenting is hard and really non-glorious work. <p>I'm feeling that in spades in this particular season of life. And to be honest, I'm having a hard time seeing the forest for the trees and I'm further down the path towards cynicism and selfishness then I have been in some time. So I'm in a daily, no, a minute-by-minute battle with my own inner-dialogue. <p>I won't give you examples of the negative thoughts that are slowly taking over my mind because they are ugly and embarrassing...anything BUT "pure-of-heart" though. They are thousands of little truths that are now twisted and swelled up lies. And I've been fighting a losing battle with them. <p>So, I was yelling at Thomas and Cece today because they were blatantly disobeying me by going upstairs when I told them not to (the yelling being the first-presenting symptom of my negative inner-dialogue). And Thomas turned around and yelled back at me with equal intensity, "What will make you HAPPY?!?!?! Hugs from me?!?!?!". <p>Yes, yes it will, T-dog. Thank you for the assist in this battle against the lies in my head. <p>"This is the day The Lord has made. let us be glad and rejoice in it." <p>Another fall, another rising. The twentieth of the morning so my knees are sore but it makes a difference having a hand to help pull me up. </p> Lexhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209362397369062854noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4922814317344909760.post-26436833288811073682013-04-03T09:26:00.001-07:002013-04-03T09:26:20.711-07:00On pursuing and being pursued<p>We are all created by a God who is in pursuit of us. He is the Hound of Heaven, he is the great Lover in Song of Songs, he is the triumphant Commander setting the captives free, he is the good Physician healing our deep wounds… <strong>he is seeking us</strong>. Ironically, we often feel like we are the ones doing the seeking and He is staying out of sight. There is, of course, a veil between us and the Heavenly Eternal and we can only catch glimpses of His face when He pulls it back for us. Upon entering the Beatific Vision we will be confronted by <em>all</em> of God, <em>all</em> at once – his gentleness and his ferocity; his simplicity and his complexity; his mercy and his justice; his Fatherhood and his Sonship; his greatness and his littleness. For now there is a veil placed between us and the <strong>All</strong> that he is. But even the veil itself reveals to us more then we realize. </p> <p>This veil is composed of many things. Many of the things, in fact, that make us who we are. We are all created with such uniqueness. Different temperaments, different childhoods, different gifts, different charisms, different vocations, different educations, different careers, and on and on. And while these things can make it impossible to pull back the veil and see God <em>in his wholeness</em> we are all created to reveal and to explore different <em>aspects</em> of who the Trinity is. God encompasses all of these differences in his person but he is not limited by any of them as we are. </p> <p>I’m going to take two of the above categories to illustrate a point. The first is the classic four temperaments (which Nature provides us with) and the second is our career/job (which we hopefully have more of a say in). </p> <p><a href="http://www.catholicmatch.com/blog/temperaments/history-of-the-four-temperaments/">The Four Temperaments</a>, as defined by the Greek thinker, Galen (drawing from Aristotelian and Platonic insights) are <a href="http://www.catholicmatch.com/blog/temperaments/choleric/">Choleric</a>, <a href="http://www.catholicmatch.com/blog/temperaments/sanguine/">Sanguine</a>, <a href="http://www.catholicmatch.com/blog/temperaments/melancholic/">Melancholic</a> and <a href="http://www.catholicmatch.com/blog/temperaments/phlegmatic/">Phlegmatic</a>. And, although all of these names initially evoke nasty medical images to one’s mind they are an excellent tool for understanding what God is looking for in you and what you will find when you look at Him. </p> <p>For example, the Sanguine (I have it on good authority from Sanguine friends of mine) will likely have a vision of God that is welcoming, arms wide open and running towards them. The Choleric may resonate more with a vision of God as a great military leader come to defend glorious Truth. Another instance where we see this truth is that the more introverted temperaments will likely experience God through the pursuit of prayer that looks something like this: “when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you” (Matthew 6:6). While the more extroverted temperaments might see God more clearly through the relationships that God has placed in his life. <br><br>Conversely, it is the same people who are able to <strong>see</strong> particular aspects of God clearly who also <strong>reveal</strong> to the world these different aspects of God. The Melancholic homemaker reveals God’s love of order and thoroughness through her ordered lifestyle. The Phlegmatic friend reveals God’s infinite ability to accept us where we are and not pass judgment.</p> <p>We could explain this as a sort of psychological projection of our own strengths and weaknesses onto God and so dismiss our uniqueness as tool of pursuing God in this way, but I do not believe that we are meant to. I do not think that the fact that a Choleric sees the Christ as “leader” is merely a by-product of the Choleric projecting their own temperament onto Christ in the way that we anthropomorphize dogs and cats by projecting our own thoughts and feelings onto them (i.e. imagining that they are lonely, happy or sad in the same way a human being is). I believe that God created us like this. That he has placed a veil between us and Him. One aspect of this veil is our particular temperament and that while in some ways the veil hides his <strong>fullness</strong> from us it also 1.) reveals Him to us in a <strong>particular</strong> way and that 2.) we are meant to reflect that aspect of Him out into the world that so desperately needs every aspect of Him. </p> <p>None of us reveal Christ in his entirety. I’m pretty sure that the only part that I reflect must be the dry skin of His elbow or some other non-glorious part. But we are all part of one body and we all reflect something of Christ to the world. The examples of our last three popes are a wonderful testament to the diversity of Christ and how he meets our <strong>every</strong> need.</p> <p>The danger of such an insight obviously is that we will tend to excuse the weaknesses of our temperament <em>while thinking that we are playing into our strengths</em>. So a Choleric may glory in the truth of the Christ while not opening himself up to the compassion of Christ. The Sanguine may gloss over wounds inflicted on or by relationships in favor of keeping a “peace” that is separated from the truth and therefore a false peace. A Melancholic may prefer routine and insulation over vulnerability and relationships. A Phlegmatic may take the path of least resistance in the face of mistreatment of themselves or others. </p> <p>Thankfully God has given us an antidote in the very work, people, and events that he has placed in our path. The work, people and events with which we fill our day should be used as a corrective against this error because Christ also reveals himself and his will for us through these things. If we are doing work then it IS the work that God wants from us right now – that much is clear. Second-guessing our work while we are in the middle of it is not useful…if we have put our hand to the plow then we shouldn’t be looking back. </p> <p>I may not be a “baby person”, temperamentally or otherwise but if He has given me babies to care for then I best start lovin’ on babies because THAT is what He has for me right now. Our work, or labor, is another part of the veil that he places between us but even that will actually reveal another aspect of him to us if we look at it. Probably an aspect of him that we would not find if we and our temperaments were left to our own devises. </p> <p>This whole topic came to mind because one of my husbands students tried to claim that he “saw God revealed in Goodness but not so much in Truth,” therefore the study of doctrine and theology was a mere hoop he had to jump through before he could get ordained and encounter God in the work of the priest (manifestations of his goodness, as opposed to his truth…hmmm). He was probably right about his natural, God-given bent - it will probably always be easier for him to see God through examples of goodness and he will probably mostly reveal God to the world through examples of goodness in his own life. Lovely, wonderful. BUT. God is also in Truth. He is Truth just as He is Goodness and just as He is Beauty. And if He has put your hand to the plow of study then you best try to find Him <em>through that work</em>, in spite of it being less natural for you. If he pursues us through our temperaments then he also pursues us through our work. All the things that make up our life are ways that he is trying to get at us.</p> <p>How many of us are just biding our time until we can get the right job, get married, go on mission, leave the young baby stage of life, etc. We are jumping through hoops until we can get into the phase of life where we can pursue God in manifestations that we naturally lean towards instead of looking at the veil he has placed between us in the here and now and look hard to<strong> find him in it</strong>. He is pursuing us <strong>through</strong> study or babies or difficult relationships that are “distracting” us or whatever else he is asking of us but we don’t really see him because we are gritting our teeth while waiting for this season to pass. <br><br>To deny his revelations of himself in either temperament, work, background, or talents,or situations is to send back the roses that the Divine Suitor sent because they aren’t our favorite color. We need to learn to love the other colors to. Love is a many-splendoured rose - and He is pursuing us – through all of the uniqueness that He’s built into each of us and has laid upon us. We must see him in ALL of the aspects of our lives and our persons because He’s after us. Sometimes gently, sometimes forcefully but always relentlessly.</p> <p><em>“Jesus replied: "'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.'” Matthew 22:37</em></p> Lexhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209362397369062854noreply@blogger.com2