<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7140464275690856223</id><updated>2011-04-21T20:36:38.803-06:00</updated><category term='tambourine'/><category term='street fair'/><category term='photocopying'/><category term='clown'/><category term='travel trailer'/><category term='wedding'/><category term='seal'/><category term='birthday party'/><category term='Gypsies'/><category term='phone'/><category term='butt'/><category term='anxiety'/><category term='Canadian Tire'/><category term='Drumheller'/><category term='gifts'/><category term='play ground accidents'/><category term='new ring'/><category term='Hannah Montana clothes'/><category term='Spanx'/><category term='McDonald&apos;s'/><category term='giving up pets'/><category term='towing'/><category term='muffin tops'/><category term='play day'/><category term='blue bunnies'/><category term='bath tub accident'/><category term='computer'/><category term='best friends'/><category term='mouth injury'/><category term='diamonds'/><category term='dance'/><category term='VBS'/><category term='sing-a-long'/><category term='kids'/><category term='racoon'/><category term='diorama'/><category term='hemp'/><category term='singing'/><category term='Ben Moss'/><category term='track meet'/><category term='Wax Museum'/><category term='return policy'/><category term='dogs'/><category term='Royal British Columbia Museum'/><category term='fire pit'/><category term='gas station'/><category term='saying sorry'/><category term='camping'/><category term='harley'/><category term='school'/><category term='Krispy Kreme'/><category term='Victoria'/><category term='Twilight Saga'/><category term='family visit'/><category term='camp'/><category term='bullying'/><category term='listening'/><category term='jewelry'/><category term='cold'/><category term='stitches'/><category term='middle child'/><category term='patience'/><category term='first blog'/><category term='hairstylist'/><category term='insurance'/><category term='jelly fish'/><category term='pocket knives'/><category term='VPL'/><category term='idiots'/><category term='home school'/><category term='campgrounds'/><category term='coffee'/><category term='chicken'/><category term='small campsites'/><category term='jewellery'/><category term='shark'/><category term='truck'/><title type='text'>Lifes Amazing (and Unusual) Adventures</title><subtitle type='html'>Sauers on Mission - Tina Sauers</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>tinasauers</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06900719338107181965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SM38TqpEFZI/AAAAAAAAABA/Gv3lUytDwC4/S220/Mexico+307.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>33</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7140464275690856223.post-8044017334130622687</id><published>2009-03-16T01:29:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T01:30:40.526-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Letters I Will Never Send (except maybe to S.E.P.)</title><content type='html'>Dear Red Roof Inn,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You make me sad.  Each time I see your little insignia mixed in with the other little symbols on the Exit signs at the overpasses, I think you are Tim Hortons and my heart gives a little jump for joy.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You sir, are no Timmies!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sadly,&lt;br /&gt;A Canadian Missing her Favourite Kickapoo Joy Juice&lt;br /&gt;__________________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Krispy Kreme Donuts,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I owe you an apology.  We got off to a bad start, and I said some things about you that I am now ashamed of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The problem was, I met old, cold, slightly hardened you.  Then recently, I met your young, hot, soft, gooey, melty, drippy, krispy, “hot off the presses” self.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I now adore you.  Please forgive my previous ignorance and know that I will be seeing more of you before I go back to Canada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;A Repentant Chubby Girl Making Up for Lost Time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.  Your coffee needs work.  Go north and visit my friend Timmie so you can learn from the master. &lt;br /&gt;______________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Tim Hortons,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss you more every day.  There are still nights that I wake up with tears on my face and a cold empty hand where your cup used to rest.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hear you are having your famous “RRRRoll Up the Rim” event.  How I wish I were there to celebrate with you.  Will you still be RRRolling around Easter?  I will be seeing you the week before then, when I finally get home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you know that it has been almost six months since my lips last rested against your dark brown lid and your heavenly nectar filled my mouth?  Do you miss my $1.55 per day as much as I miss peeling back the tab on your take out cup?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have made your home brew, but it is just not the same.  I am counting down the days until we are reunited, my love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Longingly,&lt;br /&gt;A Girl With an Addiction&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.  Ever considered ditching your donuts and going with Krispy Kreme’s instead?  Just a thought.&lt;br /&gt;__________________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Susan Elizabeth Phillips (or S.E.P. as I call you when we talk in my head)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow…that greeting sounds a little creepy.  It’s not like we really talk in my head, more like I talk and you listen.  And we only talk about your books, so it’s not like I am pretending we are BFF and going shoe shopping with you.  I have real friends for that.  Really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Getting down to business, I have to ask you: What the Jack?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a huge fan of your books!  I love your sense of humour and your whole writing style.  I have actually woken my husband from a dead sleep several times because I find you so dang funny.  (Just to let you know, this is somewhat of an honour, because I am not much of a “laugh out loud” kind of girl when I am reading.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some things you should know about me: &lt;br /&gt;1. I read a lot.&lt;br /&gt;2. I am a very fast reader.&lt;br /&gt;3. Because I read so quickly, I generally do book exchange or the library so that I can afford to both read and feed my family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that you know this, you should realize how much it means that I saw your book “Glitter Baby” and wanted to have it for keepsies.  I drew on my past experience that &lt;br /&gt;S.E.P. never fails to amuse me and her books are ones that I like to reread.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I actually started to read “Glitter Baby”.  There were several times when I truly had to check to make sure that it was not written by Danielle Steele, and I am still not entirely convinced that some horrendous printing mix-up did not occur in which your name was somehow printed instead of hers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don’t get me wrong, I like Danielle!  (I tried calling her Dani, or even Elle in my head, but she is really more of a full name type of girl.)  Her early works are particularly poignant and spellbinding.  Lately, however, it is like she takes a name, location, and plot and loads them into a sneaky little novel writing program on her computer and out spits a new book.  Not so enthralling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S.E.P., WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?  I did not laugh once during “Glitter Baby”!  And I paid full price!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sadly,&lt;br /&gt;A Reader Who Is Out $9 and Three Hours&lt;br /&gt;________________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Bloggers Who Think They Are So Cool With Their Fancy Fonts,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is with your tired little trend of writing words that have a line through them but are still clearly legible and then writing what you thought you should have written after these stricken words?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Puhlease!  That is SO two months ago.  And really, just because you can cross out words, do you really think I am picturing you at some fancy little outdoor French café, sipping espresso with your long cigarette in a fancy holder, blowing out thin streams of smoke and laughing to yourself as you scribble your spontaneous little thoughts on parchment paper with a fountain pen and then strike out your hastily written little faux pas while Fifi, your pink tinted toy poodle gently nibbles smoked salmon from a Royal Dalton Bread and Butter Plate?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I don’t!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sincerely, &lt;br /&gt;Someone Who Hopes I Never Need to Let My Font Be Funny For Me&lt;br /&gt;_________________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Font Makers,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently, I have seen that some bloggers are using a new font that allows the user to make it appear as if they have stricken a word from their writing, but it is still legible.   I have not been able to find this clever little font and wonder if you could help a girl out?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jealously, &lt;br /&gt;An Unsuccessful Googler of the Font I Adore &lt;br /&gt;________________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear California Highway Patrol Officer from Back in October,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think you are unfair.  It was not very polite of you to serve me with a ticket while I was having a bit of a moment on the 101.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, my truck had gotten away on me because of all of the hills on the road and I was really enjoying the scenery.  When one is being pushed along down a hill by a 32 foot travel trailer, it is hard not to, at times, slightly exceed the speed limit.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I noticed that none of the big rigs that blew past me on those hills like I was standing still were pulled over getting their tickets, and this bothers me somewhat.  One might even observe if one was in the habit of being a Peeping Tom in any number of campgrounds across your great nation, that I have indeed lost sleep over the matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It also concerns me somewhat that I had to keep calling in to find out the amount that I owed on this traffic violation.  By me calling in, I of course mean that every so often my darling husband would notice the ticket hanging on the bulletin board and grouchily call your head office.  If my speeding was such a big hairy deal, then why did it take you three months to get the ticket in the system?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, thanks for waiting outside my trailer door while I peed parked on the side of the road.  I was a bit nervous as this was my first time getting pulled over, and I have a nervous bladder.  I know for next time that I should not, in fact, exit my vehicle at any point during a stop by the Highway Patrol.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Thanks also for only marking me down for going sixty in a fifty five rather than seventy three.  (It is a big, heavy trailer.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My legal council, Joice Lynn, has advised me that her mom once got a ticket in California, and the officer told her that the record is expunged after three years so if she was not planning on driving in California for that amount of time she should just not pay the ticket.  Ok, so Joice isn’t really legal counsel, but she claims to be able to do anything she can read about in a book and I am pretty sure she has read a Grisham book sometime in her lifetime.  You can see the connection, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Respectfully Yours,&lt;br /&gt;A Slightly Innocent Motorist&lt;br /&gt;______________________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Canadian Border Guards,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I have an unpaid speeding ticket from California, will you still let me back into Canada?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully Yours,&lt;br /&gt;A Weary Traveller Who Fears She Can’t Afford Any More Travellers Health Insurance&lt;br /&gt;___________________________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear California Ticket Expungers,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it true that you wipe tickets off of people’s records after three years?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ummm,&lt;br /&gt;Someone Who is Just Asking for Research Purposes?&lt;br /&gt;______________________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Joice,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi!  We had a great time visiting with you guys!  I miss you so much already and am so glad that we got to renew our friendship!&lt;br /&gt;Umm, just in case anyone from California Traffic contacts you regarding me, I may have mentioned that you are my legal council.&lt;br /&gt;Hope your bathroom recovered from Andrew’s unfortunate incident!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Your Favourite Travelling Hairstylist&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.  Have you ever read a John Grisham novel?&lt;br /&gt;______________________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Paper Clip on my Sidebar, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are so cute!  Thank you for all of your suggestions and helpful input.  Thank you for always talking to me so kindly when I have a little problem or start writing a letter on my Word Program!  I just want to roll you up in a leaf of lettuce and eat you like a crispy little healthy burrito!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love, &lt;br /&gt;Someone Who Should Be Sleeping Instead of Writing Letters to Animated Paper Clips&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7140464275690856223-8044017334130622687?l=thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/feeds/8044017334130622687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7140464275690856223&amp;postID=8044017334130622687' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/8044017334130622687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/8044017334130622687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/2009/03/letters-i-will-never-send-except-maybe.html' title='Letters I Will Never Send (except maybe to S.E.P.)'/><author><name>tinasauers</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06900719338107181965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SM38TqpEFZI/AAAAAAAAABA/Gv3lUytDwC4/S220/Mexico+307.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7140464275690856223.post-3453619690132903353</id><published>2009-03-14T15:54:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-18T11:30:10.631-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Squeezito, Suction Crotch!</title><content type='html'>Remember Todd and Joice from seminary?  Of course you don’t.  It was like, seven years ago.  We didn’t even have child number three when we knew them.  To say nothing of them!  Heck!  They had two and a half new kids since we last saw them.  I know it’s not really possible to have half a kid, but they are kinda incredible people.  Kid number three was only a few days old when they left the hill. The hill is what those of us in the biz call the seminary.  Ok…I guess it’s also not really a biz…more of a school.  Whatever.  So back to my point…there have been three more children since we last saw each other.  I don’t think that was the point either, but it is late and we have passed two different time zones this week.  Or maybe the last ten days.  I don’t know.  You know what else is sad?  My internal clock is ALL messed up!  I have an odd talent.  I can seriously tell you what time it is just by feeling around inside of myself and looking at the sun.  And now?  Now my talent is gone.  I blame the time zones.  I have been seriously off on about three different occasions.  It’s just lucky that it gets dark at night or I wouldn’t even know it it was AM or PM.  Sheesh.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we went to visit Todd and Joice.  They have FIVE kids!  I know what you’re thinking.  Crazy…with three syllables.  Right?  You would think so, but they still actually inhabit the sane side of the fence!  As we were driving to their house, Joice called me and said that Todd was concerned that we might not know what we were getting ourselves in for because they are, in fact, building a house.  Hmm.  I started wondering if maybe they didn’t want us to come and visit after all and then thought, whatever, we’re almost there, so you have to love us now.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we arrived, we drove right past their driveway and had to do a u-turn with 56 feet of vehicle around a church sign in a really odd spot in the road.  There was also an inconveniently placed concrete thing that you park cars up against.  We had to pile wood up and drive over that one.  It was exciting.  The kids didn’t want to wait, so we let them run ahead and a bunch of their kids came out to meet them in the lane.  With the goats.  Yup.  Goats.  One of them bit me.  It was traumatic.  Goats have strong jaws and sharp teeth.  Ok.  It didn’t bite me.  But it bit my jeans.  It would have eaten them right off of me, but I whacked it with my book.  Yeah, that’s not true either.  But I had a book.  I was sitting in a lawn chair watching Andrew chip bricks apart for the barn floor and it bit my jeans.  In the tooshie area.  I was obviously out of my chair at this point.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok…so, lane, goats, chair…kids!  My kids LOVE Todd and Joice’s kids.  They had SO much fun together.  One may even say that they got along like a house on fire!  Andrew became a farmer.  I think he has found his calling.  He was out every night putting the chickens to bed and tying up the goats.  There were horses too, but he didn’t really do much with them.  I tell you though, any chance to carry a chicken and my boy was in there like a dirty shirt.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We did a lot of fun stuff with the Lynn family.  One day their oldest daughter was in a race in Greenville so we went to watch her and her daddy run.  We missed most of it, but did get to see them pass the finish line.  There was an amazing river area with a huge scary suspension bridge over it, so we went down the rocks and played on the shore.  We collected river glass for Joice’s new profession, which will be doing mosaic table tops.  I claim half of the profits since I gave her the idea.  We had an apple bag, and the city of Greenville must have a lot of people who hang out at the river with coloured bottles that get broken on the rocks, because we filled that puppy up!  We then decided to cross the raging river.  It may not have been the best idea.  I’m not going to lie to you.  There was a big splash (not me!) and some blood (definitely me), and two husbands laughing and pointing from the other side of the river.  Eventually we made it across and had words with the laughers.  Their defence was “at least we weren’t taking pictures!”  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the cop showed up.  Apparently there were signs posted all over the place saying it was illegal to be on the rocks.  My question would be why they put the rocks there in the first place then?  The nice officer told Todd that the fine was $1000.  Per person.  I thought maybe Joice and I could just take the jail time and call it a holiday.  Hey…she’s living in a house that’s under construction and draped in plastic sheeting and I live in a trailer.  Our idea of a holiday has changed a bit in the past few months.  We didn’t get a ticket, but the officer was going to give one to a different guy who had several warnings for being in the river.  He got off because he said he wasn’t wearing his glasses and couldn’t read the signs.  I figure I will try to remember that one for the next time I get pulled over for speeding.  Hey, it worked for him!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later that night we left Andrew to baby-sit the seven other children.  He had just turned twelve and we felt comfortable leaving him with them.  We went to the Macaroni Grill.  I have always avoided this restaurant because of the name, but it turns out there is absolutely no Macaroni on the menu.  I did however find another dish that I am pretty sure Jesus invented and is preparing for the table He will set before us.  It is the Pinot Grigio Chicken.  It has Roasted Garlic and is breaded with parmesan cheese.  Mmm.  So just to recap, Jesus’ table now includes Pumpkin Spice Latte, Paula Deen’s Godiva Chocolate Crème Brule, and the amazing chicken at Macaroni Grill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Macaroni Grill has a wacky sense of humour.  They teach Italian in the washrooms over the speakers.  I found this amusing.  Todd found it a learning opportunity.  Suddenly we were inundated with everything being “Squeezito!” which apparently means delicious.  We were not really interested in the actual meaning of the word though, as it amused us greatly to just use it whenever and wherever it struck our fancy.   You have permission to use it now, too.  It is a very fun word to throw out there.  Squeezito!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One rather disturbing element of the Macaroni Grill is that the back of the door in the women’s washroom says “Men” and vice versa.  Given my previous, ahem, restroom gender difficulties, this freaked me out when I went to leave.  The first thing to run through my mind was “Oh crap, not again!”  Then I remembered that Joice was with me, so if I was in the wrong john, I was not alone.  Whew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the drive home, I got a phone call from Andrew.&lt;br /&gt;Andrew- Um, hi.  Yeah, Mom.  OK, well, um, the toilet is plugged and the bathroom is flooding.&lt;br /&gt;Me- Hmm.  Here’s Joice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got home and it was raining on the whole main floor of their new house.  While praying “Please Lord don’t let this be poop water!” we dashed up the stairs.  Andrew was understandably upset and when we assured him that he had done a good job babysitting, he said to me “Mom, I was in the bathroom plugging up the toilet with my giant poo while they were watching a movie.  I don’t see that as exactly a great job.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day Andrew and Boaz went out and found a jar full of tree frogs.  They dropped them off on the deck with us where we were examining them when someone noticed that they are all suctiony, particularly in the crotch area.  This inspired our new saying of the day, which was of course, “suction crotch”.  Now not only are interesting things “squeezito!” there are also random mutterings of “suction crotch” to deal with, which is always met by screeches of laughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The frogs the boys caught reminded me of my frog scar.  Frog scar you say?  How can you get a scar from a frog?  Let me tell you.  When I was a teenager we learned how to dissect frogs in school.  I found this to be a lot of fun and felt really sad for my cousins who had never dissected anything, so one day when we were out at our grandparent’s farm, we found an old tin tea kettle and went collecting frogs.  We didn’t have a tray of wax to pin the frog onto, so grandma fixed us up with a cookie sheet covered in newspaper and we thought we would just pin the frog to the paper.  We selected the largest frog so that all of the organs would be easy to see.  That’s when we ran into our biggest problem.  My expertise had only been tested on pickled frogs and these babies were still alive.  Let me tell you something: frogs do not make an easy transaction from live to dead when you are not using a lawn mower.  With that being said, they do apparently get knocked out.  I question the wisdom of sharing our method of execution, but since wisdom is not always my strong suit, I figure what the heck.  We threw it against the sidewalk.  Yup.  Keep in mind I was very young at the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, back to the old KO.  When we went to pin our “dead” frog to our dissection pan we found out he was not so much dead after all, and someone had to bite the bullet and put him out of his misery with the hammer.  The dissection was a success however,  and I prefer to think of it as science and not torture.  One of the cousins actually became a doctor and I like to take credit for that because I showed him his first internal medicine.  Ok…that’s not entirely truthful.  He’s a Chiropractor, so he’s not actually practicing internal medicine, but you need to stop judging me.  And I guess since his dad is a veterinarian I may not have actually shown him his first medicine, but you still need to stop judging me.  Back off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah!  The frog scar.  When I went to pull “Tiny” out of the tin tea kettle, some of the frogs jumped and hit my hand which startled me and I pulled my had rather quickly out of the kettle and sliced open my wrist.  Kind of anticlimactic now, isn’t it.  Some time I’ll tell you about my kitten Tippy.  That will hold your interest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until then, Squeezito!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7140464275690856223-3453619690132903353?l=thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/feeds/3453619690132903353/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7140464275690856223&amp;postID=3453619690132903353' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/3453619690132903353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/3453619690132903353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/2009/03/squeezito-suction-crotch.html' title='Squeezito, Suction Crotch!'/><author><name>tinasauers</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06900719338107181965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SM38TqpEFZI/AAAAAAAAABA/Gv3lUytDwC4/S220/Mexico+307.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7140464275690856223.post-4205156047519436012</id><published>2009-03-02T10:37:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-02T11:51:48.789-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Mullets, Church and Family</title><content type='html'>You are going to have to stretch your mind here with me.  That’s right, we’re going to have to use our heads here folks.  Turns out it’s not just the stuffing in the showcase for that fantastic head of hair you’re carrying around.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; While we are on the subject, let’s just diverge for a sec and talk about that hair.  If you can find your hairstyle in a current Hair Magazine or one of those giant books in the waiting room of your salon that has a cover date earlier than say, eight years ago, then this rant is not for you.  (But you may enjoy reading it anyway.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  If you have a mullet- first of all, WHY?  Remember that woman on Survivor who had her hair in a mullet because she thought it made her look more feminine for her husband?  She was a lunch lady and couldn’t be dropping hair in the food but then she got all famous because of the show and lost her job but not the mullet?  Yeah, no.  Ever hear of a pony tail.  You can wear them to work and they do a fantastic job of keeping the hair out of your eyes and people actually don’t mind going out in public with you.  You could be the kindest, most spiritual and loving person in the world, but your message is not getting across because of the packaging.  It’s like giving someone an engagement ring but making them fish it out of the urinal.  Still an engagement ring, but ew!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Here are the steps you need to take to fix this.  Make an appointment with your hairstylist.  Sit in her chair (let’s face it, a male stylist would not have let you get away with this atrocity for so long) and explain that you have a mullet and would like to end the vicious circle.  If she tries in any way to convince you that the mullet is ok, stand up, apologize for wasting her time and thank her for the many years of faithful service.  Now walk out.  Do not turn back. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; Walk into another salon, stand in the middle of said salon and take off your hat.  (You, of course, have taken to wearing a hat since reading this, to cover your shame.)  Loudly, but politely, ask if anyone can help you do something about your mullet.  Be prepared for a variety of reactions that may or may not include weeping, applause, hugging, bouncing on the spot, and the tinkling of a tiny little &lt;br /&gt;bell as another mullet finds its way home to the salon floor.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Mullets are not the only hair horror that are still out there, but perhaps the most loathed, so I am using you as an example.  The rest of you know who you are.  If you are in doubt, just assume you need a little update.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Back to the reason I was writing.  Oh how I loathe going on.  I know that these two subjects really do not go together, but I am going to forge ahead and say it anyway.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I have heard a lot of people in a lot of churches talk about how much they need new people and wonder why people come once or twice and never return.  I was talking to my friend Ruth about this and she asked the pertinent question “What’s wrong with the old people?”  That made me laugh and I have no answer.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; So this is the way I see it.   All of us that go to church every week tend to call each other family- as in church family.  The Bible says that all of us are God’s children. Family and children.  Still with me?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Here’s where it gets dicey.  Newbie comes in and sits down.  Maybe they don’t look the same as the rest of us (mullet), have unruly children, sit in our pew, don’t know the songs or sing them a different way than we do, or fail to remove their hat during service.  Or maybe they look really good.  Like, better than we do.  Chances are, we shyly look at them and hurry by on our way out to lunch with our friends, or shake their hand, say it’s so good to have you with us, and scurry out to check on the roast we threw in before church.  We then leave them to blindly search the building for their children that ran off with the rest of the rugrats when kid’s service was announced and go for a lonely lunch to discuss why no one really talked to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Here’s the thing.  People who come to church are looking for something.  Someone.  They may already know Jesus but need a friend.  They may already have a friend but need Jesus.  We can give them both, but not if we run away from them.  Pastors- don’t you nod and agree!  You are doing it, too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; So what do we do?  I have put a lot of thought into this and it comes down to family.  Not in an abstract, “we’re all family here” way either.  We need to make it real.  Every time we walk through the doors of that church it is a family reunion with Jesus as the host!  That new person that walked through the door is family that you haven’t met.  Go and greet him!  Talk to him!  Ask him about his life!  You guys have the SAME FATHER!  Why would you want to ignore him! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Think of how it is when a new baby is born in your church.  Everyone gathers around and looks, has a party for the family to welcome the baby and cries happy tears that one more has been added to their number.  See the correlation?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; We should be able to visit any Christian church and feel like we are home.  Why are we not excited to see family from other cities and find out what their story is?  We could actually learn something.  They may have heard something from the Father that we have not heard and be here to spread the news.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Now if your long lost brother walked into your home would you shake his hand, say nice to have you with us today, and rush out the door to go for lunch with your friends?  Are you getting this?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Would you say hope to see you again but not get his phone number and call him that week?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; It’s about not just giving lip service to the notion that we are a family, but actually putting it into practice and acting like it.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt; Sure she has a mullet.  Guess what?  It’s just hair.  (It hurts me to say that, but it’s true.)  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; OK- their kids are really, really annoying.  Have you forgotten what it was like when your little angels were that age?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; For me, the people that look like they really have it together are the scariest to approach.  How sad.  One of my favourite people in the world is one that I thought was too good for me to talk to and be friends with.  Turns out she’s just as much of a mess as I am, but looking great on the outside helps her to feel like she is keeping it more together on the inside.  And you know what’s even better?  We have the same Father!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I guess my point is quit whining about why people don’t stay and start treating them like you want them to.  Go for lunch with them.  Ask them how they met your Father.  If they haven’t met Him, introduce them.  Interact with them during the week (as in put down the remote and invest in people, not electronics.)  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Love your neighbour as you love yourselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Oh yeah- and please, please, please lose the mullet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7140464275690856223-4205156047519436012?l=thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/feeds/4205156047519436012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7140464275690856223&amp;postID=4205156047519436012' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/4205156047519436012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/4205156047519436012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/2009/03/mullets-church-and-family.html' title='Mullets, Church and Family'/><author><name>tinasauers</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06900719338107181965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SM38TqpEFZI/AAAAAAAAABA/Gv3lUytDwC4/S220/Mexico+307.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7140464275690856223.post-894497352701757269</id><published>2009-03-01T10:31:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-01T10:41:40.874-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Tornado's A-Comin</title><content type='html'>Things that go through your mind when the Air Raid Siren goes at 3am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is THAT!&lt;br /&gt;Oh crap, we’re going to die!&lt;br /&gt;Can’t really be an air raid…we are not wartime.&lt;br /&gt;OH NO! Tornado!&lt;br /&gt;“We have to get out of here!”&lt;br /&gt;“Kid’s…we don’t know what this sound is!  Get your housecoats and let’s go!”&lt;br /&gt;Oh crap, where’s Marie?  I’m glad I scrubbed her up.  She was looking really grungy.  &lt;br /&gt;“I know you’re scared, Sweets.  We all are.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m glad I put the passports in a ziplock yesterday.  Much easier to get them now.  I hope they don’t fall out of my pocket, but we will never get home without them if the trailer blows away.  Should I bring my jewelry, too? What shoes should I wear?  The yellow shower shoes dry the fastest but if we are on the news they don’t look very nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Standing outside in the dark and rain.)&lt;br /&gt;“DOES ANYONE KNOW WHAT THIS SOUND MEANS?  WHAT DO WE DO?”&lt;br /&gt;Why are the people in the house across the street not turning their lights on? &lt;br /&gt;Oh no, that guy said tornado warning…Jesus help us, Jesus help us.&lt;br /&gt; I wonder if the stilts their houses are on are strong enough that if I grab the rope the kids were playing with and tie the whole family to it that we will not get blown away?&lt;br /&gt;Oh good, they shut the siren off.  But what does that mean now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Kids, get in the truck…there is a storm shelter by the beach!”&lt;br /&gt;It was a fort 200 years ago and is still standing so we will be safe there.  What if no one comes to open it and we are all stuck outside when the storm comes.  They should give you a pamphlet when you check in about what to do if the Air Raid Siren goes in the night.&lt;br /&gt;Ok. All of those people are going to the campground office.  Where are my glasses?  What a good husband I have…he knew I would need to see.  Why is Abby crying so much…hold her.  Poor thing…shaking like a leaf.  I won’t ever let you go.&lt;br /&gt;That rain is really coming down.  I think the umbrella is a bit anticlimactic at this point, seeing how I am already dripping, but he sure does take good care of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I know you’re scared guys, Mommy is too!”&lt;br /&gt;We look like a bunch of ants running to the hill.  I hope it is unlocked.  Oh good, the managers are here and they don’t look freaked out.  &lt;br /&gt;“No, she’s shivering because she is terrified.”&lt;br /&gt;Ok…the bathroom.  My family calls the bathroom.  There is water in the back of the tank and I remember something about bathrooms being safer in storms.  Where is Michael?  Ok…he has the boys underneath that brick arch.  That will work too.  Jesus help us, Jesus help us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“OK Matt, I’ll take you.”&lt;br /&gt;No I will not let you pee alone!  You lost the option of peeing alone the moment the siren sounded.  I can’t believe Andrew wanted to bring his book.  He is SO my kid.  I hope the twister waits till I am back with Michael.  Why do I always have to remind him to wash his hands?  Jesus help us, Jesus help us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wonder if he will let me have my phone?  Act calm, act calm, stop crying!  Sheesh, the tears just keep rolling here.  Ok…call my parents and sister.  No answer.  Why are they not picking up?  This phone displays such a stupid number that no one ever knows it is me.  I am so scared.  Try them again.  Still no answer.  I hate this phone.  Dial 2 for speed dial long distance. One for English.  Now the number.  No answer.  Maybe the Stenske’s.  They will pray for us.  I always answer in the night.  Why does no one else.  If I don’t answer I get all worried that someone died and I missed it.  Jesus help us, Jesus help us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am SO scared!  Everyone is.  The men are all acting so strong, but you can see it in their eyes.  Man those dogs stink.  At least we will have food if we get trapped.  That’s right lady…yappy goes first.  Ok…Tina Stenske answered.  Don’t cry too hard, she has to be able to understand.  Try to talk quietly or Michael will take the phone away.  Ok…they are praying and now someone knows where we are.  Breathe.  Jesus help us, Jesus help us.  I should call the family and leave a message.  Mom and Dad’s machine isn’t working.  Laura’s house.  Should I say “I love you guys.”?  No.  That would scare her too much.  They already know.  I should have said “I love you.”  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If the twister comes, Michael and I can link around the kids and keep them pressed against the wall.  Jesus help us, Jesus help us.  They are too young for this.  I want to go home.  I will take a blizzard any day over this.  I am so scared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Sure baby, I will take you to the potty.”&lt;br /&gt;I wish everyone would come with us.  If we’re going to die, I want to be together.  She is still shaking.  My poor baby.  I should pee, too.  I don’t want to wet myself later.  Can’t believe everyone else got dressed before they came.  Why didn’t I think of that.  Doesn’t matter.  I wonder if anyone will lend me pants if the trailer is gone.  And a bra.  I NEED a bra.  Does this nightie look OK for the news.  I can’t bend over to sift through the rubble.  I hope someone gives me pants. The nightie will just look like a long shirt.  My hair is still dripping.  Wish I had a comb.  Jesus help us, Jesus help us.  STOP CRYING, Tina!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where are these people going?  Where is Michael?  SIT DOWN or you will lose our spot in the brick arch.  Fireplace chimneys always seem to be standing after a disaster.  I wonder if we could fit all the kids in the fireplace?  Oh…the watch is lifted.  Thank you Jesus, thank you Jesus.  Call Tina back and tell her we are ok.  Man these puddles are deep.  I hope the kids hang up their housecoats and don’t just leave them in a soggy mess on the floor.  Stop crying!  Thank you Jesus, thank you Jesus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh crap.  I’m not wearing any panties.  Ruth is gonna love that!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7140464275690856223-894497352701757269?l=thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/feeds/894497352701757269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7140464275690856223&amp;postID=894497352701757269' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/894497352701757269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/894497352701757269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/2009/03/tornados-comin.html' title='Tornado&apos;s A-Comin'/><author><name>tinasauers</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06900719338107181965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SM38TqpEFZI/AAAAAAAAABA/Gv3lUytDwC4/S220/Mexico+307.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7140464275690856223.post-6440979799053018844</id><published>2009-02-25T22:11:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-25T22:44:52.346-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Rocks and Bananas and Curtains, Oh My!</title><content type='html'>Sooo...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has recently come to my attention that my middle son is a bit of a freak show.  OK... maybe in the back of my mind I have always know, but the last couple of weeks have really driven the message home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's start in Florida.  We spent the day on the beach.  The kids were all swimming (it was freaking cold, but the Canadian kids don't seem to mind) and searching for shells.  The first time Matt put his head under he ended up with a mouthful, and the saltiness somehow surprised him.  I thought for sure he had tasted sea water at some point in his life, but judging by his reaction, I must have thought wrong.  He popped up out of the water hissing and spitting and wiping his tongue with his hands which accomplished nothing but introducing sand into the mix.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About an hour later, after a quick shopping stop at the Shell Shack, we returned home and I started rinsing the shells and ginormous sand dollars and laying them out to dry.  I happened to look up and see Matt playing in the street with his ever present Light Sabre, but something looked odd.  His cheeks were really bulgy.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me- What's in your mouth, Matt?&lt;br /&gt;Matt- Rocks.&lt;br /&gt;Me- (head cocked to the side, eyebrows raised in confusion) Rocks?&lt;br /&gt;Matt- (starting to spit out the 20 or so rocks in his mouth) It's my new cure for getting salt water out of your mouth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said nothing for a long while.  It took a while to digest the "Matthew Logic".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me- Where'd you get the rocks?&lt;br /&gt;Matt- On the street.&lt;br /&gt;Me- Where do people walk their dogs?&lt;br /&gt;Matt- On the street.&lt;br /&gt;Me- Where do the dogs pee?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And we're back to the hissing, spitting, and wiping tongue with hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward to this morning in Georgia.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up to the lovely sound of a Seven Year Old's Hissy Fit.  What a treat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me- Why are you screaming?&lt;br /&gt;Abby- Matthew won't leave his curtains open and he knows I like to look at him in the morning.  He knows it, Mama! &lt;br /&gt;(she sleeps on the top bunks and their bunks have curtains across so they have some modicum of privacy, which is surprisingly tricky when there are three children sharing a room the size of my last closet.)&lt;br /&gt;Me- Stop squealing!  You will wake up the whole trailer park. (These people do not look like they would take kindly to that.  Full body shudder.)&lt;br /&gt;Abby- But Mama, I want to be able to see him!&lt;br /&gt;Me- Matt, why won't you let her see you?&lt;br /&gt;Matt- I just want some alone time!&lt;br /&gt;Me- Why?(noticing the banana in his hand and finding this a bit...strange) What are you doing?&lt;br /&gt;Matt- I'm just laying in bed holding this banana that I want to eat and reading my curtains.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously.  That was the start to my day.  I would be hard pressed to think of how to respond to that at 2pm, let alone 7:15 am.  It just raised so very many questions in my mind.  (And also the urge to scream, but I refrained.  I am afraid that if I start, I may never stop.  That and the whole "scary neighbours with trees growing on the tops of their RV's" thing.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can almost always feel the worry/confusion wrinkle in between my eyebrows now, and more and more "sparkly" hairs show up in my part in between colours.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I blame my children. And my husband.  I think they take after him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7140464275690856223-6440979799053018844?l=thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/feeds/6440979799053018844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7140464275690856223&amp;postID=6440979799053018844' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/6440979799053018844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/6440979799053018844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/2009/02/rocks-and-bananas-and-curtains-oh-my.html' title='Rocks and Bananas and Curtains, Oh My!'/><author><name>tinasauers</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06900719338107181965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SM38TqpEFZI/AAAAAAAAABA/Gv3lUytDwC4/S220/Mexico+307.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7140464275690856223.post-701363655113231073</id><published>2009-02-05T22:09:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T22:10:43.603-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Look Before You Leak</title><content type='html'>We arrived in Louisiana early this week.  Let me tell you…it is like nowhere we have ever been!  Driving here is an absolute treat!  We had not been over the Texas/Louisiana border for 10 minutes before the third person cut me off.  Have I mentioned how convenient it is to be cut off while your vehicles have a combined length of 56.5 feet?  I haven’t?  Hmm…maybe that’s because IT’S NOT!  It is freaking scary!  It takes a very long time to stop a vehicle that large!  If you don’t already, leave a big space behind and in front of big vehicles!  It is safer for everyone!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The day before we left Texas, we saw a sad and scary sight.  About half a block in front of us, two vehicles somehow collided.  There was smoke coming out of both of them and the people were seriously injured.  We watched an air ambulance touch down and pick up the most seriously injured.  The thing that frightened us the most is that Michael ran back into the camper to put some books away which slowed us down about 30 seconds.  If he hadn’t, who knows, it could have been us.  It really brings home a person’s own mortality when you watch a helicopter land in the middle of the street right in front of you.  This is the third serious accident we have been behind in six months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; We are camped at a place called Poche Plantation right now, on the Mississippi River in between Baton Rouge and New Orleans.    It is amazing.  We have had the opportunity to visit several different plantations in the last couple of days.  I am a huge fan of books like Gone With the Wind and all things Southern, so this is a huge thrill for me; a bit of a dream come true.  I seriously thought I might pass out from excitement when we toured General Wade Hampton’s plantation called Houmas House!  There were so many amazing things there, not the least of which was a Vampire Slaying kit.  It really made me sad how frightened some people were of this.  There are more churches in the area than I have ever seen, but superstition is still so rampant.   The Creole accent is also very difficult to wrap my Canadian Ears around.  It sounds to me like a mixture of the deep south drawl, and French Canadian.  I find myself having to really think about what people have said or just plain ask them to repeat themselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The food here deserves a blog of its’ own.  WOW!  We found a little coffee shop that has the appropriate name of Coffee Shop.  They said that they were serve Biegnets, (ben-yay) and since I had just been reading about them, we had to try them. Biegnets are a French Pastry made of rectangular pieces of donut type dough that they cook in oil right when you order them and then coat in Icing Sugar.  I think that Jesus invented these.  I know I have said this about Pumpkin Latte in the past, and in case anyone is wondering, yes, they would go well together.  They also serve a truly amazing Café au Lait.  I could have sad and drank coffee and devoured beignets all day long!  When we arrived at this campsite, the owner told us about four times that we had to go to Hymel’s on Thursday night to eat and hear the live band.  Off we went, and were we in for a treat.  I kept seeing these advertisements for boiled shrimp or boiled crab or boiled crawfish and I thought “How boring!”  How wrong I was.  When we arrived, they told us that the special was boiled shrimp and that this was the first night of the year that they were serving crawfish.  They laughed at us a bit when we asked what crawfish were but then they brought us some to sample and we realized that when they boil the seafood it is not just in water, but in a spicy seasoned broth.  And again, we say WOW!  Crawfish look like a tiny little lobster and taste a bit like chicken.  Seriously.  Well…maybe fishy chicken.  They have a chicken texture with a fish flavour.  By the end of the meal we were deliciously dirty and fully satisfied.  My wonderful husband even discovered that he likes shrimp, after a lifetime of professing to hate it.  I heaved a happy sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; For those of you that know me, you will remember that I have a bit of a bowel issue.  For those that were not “privy” to that information, you now know a little more about me than you ever wanted to.  The reason I mention this is just to let you know that although amusing, no one can really blame the next little story on me because I have a problem.  Someday I will be brave enough to share the Macy’s story and then you will really understand, but for now let’s just stick with what happened in Wal Mart.  The kids were all exhausted and we needed a few groceries so I said I would run in and Michael could fuel up and wait with the kids in the truck.  Unfortunately, the meal that we had just eaten was high in garlic, and garlic makes my bowels very angry.  I made it through the whole shopping trip fine until I got to the checkout.  I then realized there was no way that I would make it out to the truck to drop off the groceries and get back into the bathroom without ….well…without issues.  So, I called Michael and he came in to grab the groceries and I trotted off to the can.  I noticed when I got into the stall that it was disgustingly nasty and did my best to hover over the seat like mom taught me while making a mental not to complain to the Customer Service Desk.  After finishing up I went to wash my hands and saw that even the sinks were horribly dirty.  I was trying to keep from touching anything unnecessarily when I noticed a strange thing.  Wal Mart in Baton Rouge had urinals in the ladies room.  Oh!  Maybe not so much the ladies room.  I quickly got out before person in the next stall finished up and decided not to mention anything to the Customer Service staff.  Sadly, this is the third time since we got into the USA that I have entered a Wal Mart men’s room.  Mom says I should look before I leak and my Dad says that at least it wasn’t another Macy’s incident.  Some day I will be brave enough to share that story, but not today my friends, not today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7140464275690856223-701363655113231073?l=thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/feeds/701363655113231073/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7140464275690856223&amp;postID=701363655113231073' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/701363655113231073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/701363655113231073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/2009/02/look-before-you-leak.html' title='Look Before You Leak'/><author><name>tinasauers</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06900719338107181965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SM38TqpEFZI/AAAAAAAAABA/Gv3lUytDwC4/S220/Mexico+307.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7140464275690856223.post-8561157760521805437</id><published>2009-01-13T21:30:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-13T22:41:40.177-06:00</updated><title type='text'>"I don't need an EMT, I need a SCREWDRIVER!"</title><content type='html'>While "living" in Tucson last week, we thought we should take a few days and check out some of their big tourist attractions.  The first one that we hit was Colossal Caves.  It is the biggest dry cave in America (I think) and the bats were on vacation for the cold winter months (ha-ha).  We had a great time there and would totally go again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We also went to the Tucson Children's Museum.  Um...yeah.  It was a children's museum.  Eventually, rather than stab myself in the eye with a plastic vegetable in the shopping area, I went out to the truck, got my book, and spent the next hour curled up on a big cushy stool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Michael took the kids to the Titan Missile Museum and the Pima Air and Space Museum.  Both were huge hits with the kids and Michael both.  I stayed home and gave myself a cut and colour, so yeah, I loved the day, too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The icing on our Tucson Cake, however, was Old Tucson.  We wanted to spend the whole day and get to see all of the shows there, so we got up early, packed our cooler lunch, and headed out.  The first show that we saw was a gunfight.  Little did we know, it introduced us to the actors that we would be following around all day.  Those Old Tucson actors really work!  We were suitably impressed by Billy the Kid' Shoot-Out and headed over to the hotel to watch the Can-Can Show. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, we have tried to raise our boys to not look at girls in a sexual way.  We don't come out and say "Don't look at them in a sexual way, boys!" but for example, when Matt came home from the store at five years old telling us that he had seen the convenience store clerks boobies, we discouraged him from ever mentioning that again.  Turns out, she was wearing a tank-top and Matt appreciates the female figure.  Back to the topic...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were sitting in the dimly lit room and this cute little actress came over and asked Matt what we were there for.  That was the high point for him.  After the other two performers joined her and they started bending over and shaking their ruffle bottomed bloomers around, my boys were done.  I was thoroughly enjoying myself and turned to look at my darling male off-spring, only to find them both with their red cheeked faces pressed firmly to the table, looking anywhere but but at those fishnet clad, mile long legs.  They spent the rest of the show waiting for us on the covered porch. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Michael, Abby and I stuck it out though.  Near the end of the show, Miss Kitty said she needed a volunteer and I quickly volun-told my wonderful husband to dance with the pretty lady.  Suffice it to say, my boys came by their blushing abilities honestly!  He was SO cute!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next event was the Medicine Show.  We were quite early and were able to secure one of the three hay bails for our family to sit on.  The kids were thrilled with our early arrival as they had lots of opportunity to interact with the actors.  When the show started, they chose two people from the audience: one to bang a drum, and one to shake a tambourine.  We thought they were already done choosing volunteers when the main actor said they needed someone to test the "medicine". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I heard a voice from behind say "This man has given me $10.00 to take..." and I started to laugh, seeing that he was right by Michael.  I laughed until he finished his sentence "...his wife."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyone that knows me will realize that although highly embarrassing for me, Bipolar Betty tends to enjoy being on display.  Things got a little crazy as things are prone to do, but in all, it was a good experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then came the Antique Cars.  I think almost every amusement park type thing has a ride like this.  You get in your little car and drive it down a track.  The kids really like this.  On their second trip through the lineup, Michael and I decided to sit and enjoy the sun on one of the scattered benches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we were sitting there waiting for them to finish their ride, we heard Abby start to scream. I was quickly making my way through the maze that the cattle- I mean- kids line up in, when  Andrew yelled to me that Abby's knee was stuck.  The retired school teacher in line behind her tried to help and got slapped away for his troubles.  I got to her and saw that she had wedged her knee in between two of the wooden slats in the fence. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I picked her up and tried to get her to straighten her leg so that the knee would pop out of the fence.  No go.  She did scream louder though.  Yay!  I, of course, then got the giggles.  My kid was stuck in a fence, the ride attendants were busy doing their nails or something, we could not get the rails pulled apart and the screaming just kept on going.  The school teacher looked at me all cracked up, winked, and said "Bit of a drama Queen, is she?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eventually, I pulled myself together enough to be able to yell at the attendants that my kid was stuck and she needed help.  The girl looked like this was the moment she had been waiting for her entire life!  She sprung to the phone and quickly explained the situation.  Then she turned to me and said, "Don't worry, I've called an EMT!  He's on his way!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you kidding me?  Now I am annoyed.  "I don't need an EMT, I need a SCREWDRIVER!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She claimed that she didn't have a one at which point Andrew, our oldest son, calmly pointed to the ceiling joist and said "Sure you do, right there!" (SO proud!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was the wrong type of screwdriver, but a middle aged passerby had heard me screeching like a fishmongers wife at the poor minimum wage worker and sauntered up, pulling his multi-use tool out of his belt pouch like John Wayne pulling his gun in one of the many movies he made in Old Tucson.  You could almost here the good guy music playing.  He flipped open his Allen wrench and made quick work of unscrewing the fence and releasing my panicked little girl, whose screams were still slow to abate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We left right after this. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Matt, however,  lost his wallet in the parking lot, so we were soon back to search.  Someone took it though.  I guess that Camo wallet with the Shamoo sticker and three bucks was too much of a prize for some poor soul to pass up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My motto for visiting tourist attractions, or going to parties is "Always leave when you are having the most fun."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It didn't quite work out that was at Old Tucson, but still, a good time was had by all.  OK... by most.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I mention that I forgot the buns when I packed our cooler lunch?  Great day, huh!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7140464275690856223-8561157760521805437?l=thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/feeds/8561157760521805437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7140464275690856223&amp;postID=8561157760521805437' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/8561157760521805437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/8561157760521805437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-dont-need-emt-i-need-screwdriver.html' title='&quot;I don&apos;t need an EMT, I need a SCREWDRIVER!&quot;'/><author><name>tinasauers</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06900719338107181965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SM38TqpEFZI/AAAAAAAAABA/Gv3lUytDwC4/S220/Mexico+307.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7140464275690856223.post-4304000473214774569</id><published>2009-01-08T23:46:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-09T01:20:59.657-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Cacti and Cowpie</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SWb6t8reLII/AAAAAAAAABo/JpozOIP4Uy0/s1600-h/IMG_3367.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SWb6t8reLII/AAAAAAAAABo/JpozOIP4Uy0/s400/IMG_3367.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289190479682743426" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SWb6tkcAq3I/AAAAAAAAABg/26d0MakacQc/s1600-h/IMG_3366.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SWb6tkcAq3I/AAAAAAAAABg/26d0MakacQc/s400/IMG_3366.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289190473175444338" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SWb6tScGkKI/AAAAAAAAABY/N9VnS744Zcg/s1600-h/IMG_3364.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SWb6tScGkKI/AAAAAAAAABY/N9VnS744Zcg/s400/IMG_3364.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289190468343992482" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just in case you didn't know, or were wondering, or are not in my immediate circle of friends who know my every move, I am on a one year family vacation slash mission type trip with my husband and three children.  I know that I should have probably just used a slash rather than writing the word slash, but I like doing things the hard way and it's my blog so I can do what I want to, so there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, for the past almost three weeks we have been in Arizona.  We are all quite fascinated with the vegetation here.  Lemme tell you...it is NOTHING like Saskatchewan.  Let me also tell you, it is starkly beautiful.  As a family, we are big fans of hiking.  At least, we were big fans of hiking until today.  I may never get Matthew out on the trails again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should clarify that by hiking, I mean nice meandering strolls though the great outdoors.  Back home we would just drive around out in the country till I saw a stretch of forest that I was intrigued by, park the vehicle and go get a little lost.  This always makes my husband very nervous.  He likes to be in sight of the vehicle and be able to hear the sound of the road at all times.  I like to be out of sight and hearing of all things except the birds and the bees and the flowers and the trees, free to drop trow and pee wherever the mood strikes me.    We compromise by me telling him not to be a baby since I have never been seriously lost in the forest before and do not intend to start now and he moans and complains and follows me.  I think he is just afraid of being lost alone and would rather be lost with me and the kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since we have been in Tucson, we have all been loving this one cactus.  It looks like a beautiful, fuzzy, drapey cactus over top of a really nice tree trunk.  It is amazingly pretty and we had to get closer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The whole area that we are staying in is open range.  I had no idea what that meant, so I will enlighten you as well.  (See, I am not merely entertaining, I am educational!)  Open range means that cattle have the right of way.  If you don't want cow pies in your front yard, it is up to you to put up a fence and keep them out.  So if you can picture this, we are surrounded by acres and acres of cacti, mesquite, cattle and cowpies.  I have no idea how the cattle survive.  There is NO grass.  How do they graze?  The farmers must really be feeding them at home because they could not be surviving from forage alone.   Sorry...chased a rabbit there.  The point is that there are trails all around us.  I am going to go out on a limb and say that they are cow trails.  We found ... evidence... to support this theory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got out onto the first trail and had gone about five meters before we came on one of the wonder trees.  Being a hands on type of gal, I immediately wanted to touch it.  Abby and I cautiously stuck out our fingers in a type of "once bitten, twice shy" move, and found that they are almost soft.  They did not poke at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me rephrase.  They did not poke at all while they were on the plant.  Something happens after they fall off though, that  renders them near lethal weapons.  As I was gently caressing the pretty pretty tree, Abby suddenly started screaming "Get it off me!  Get it off me!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked down and saw that she had three poky balls sticking out of her leg.  I went to get them out of her leg and got them stuck into my hand.  They seem to go in and then explode a little underneath your skin in such a way that they are stinking hard to get out.  The last one that was stuck in her actually pulled her skin out in a little tent about two centimeters away from her leg.  After we got all of the foreign objects removed from our skin we went back to the trailer, put on running shoes and set out again.  We actually got some of the pokers stuck into the rubber parts of our shoes that we could not pull out and had to just break off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was very different to be out hiking in all of these poky, sharp objects when we were used to soft, mossy surfaces and soaring, evergreen trees.  We followed several trails until we kind of cactus-ed ourselves into a corner.  We were surrounded on every side and I had to admit defeat and say it was time to head home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shortly after we turned back Matt caught one of the poky balls hard in his shin.  In a classically Matthew, knee jerk reaction, he reached down, slapped it out of his leg, and succeeded in slicing his hand open in several different spots.  These cuts on his hand and leg then started pouring out blood.  He was shrieking like he had been stabbed, which of course sent Michael and I into fits of poorly disguised laughter.  We are, understandably, in the running for parents of the year.  Matt is such an overly dramatic person that anyone would have been hard pressed not to laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After all of the tears had been dried and the laughter had subsided, we resumed our trip out of the desert trap.  Along the way I had some time to think about life and the things that go on in it.  A lot of times, the things that are the most pleasing to our eyes, and that attract us the most are also the things that hurt us the most.  All of us go through situations that hurt, but the most pain comes from the things that capture your attention or your heart and then turn around and bite you in the butt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess the moral of the story is to remember that appearances can be deceiving.  Be careful.  You never know when something, or someone that attracts you in one way or another will cut, and removing the barbs is very painful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, be careful where you step.  Cowpie is tough to get out of shoe treads.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7140464275690856223-4304000473214774569?l=thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/feeds/4304000473214774569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7140464275690856223&amp;postID=4304000473214774569' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/4304000473214774569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/4304000473214774569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/2009/01/cacti-and-cowpie.html' title='Cacti and Cowpie'/><author><name>tinasauers</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06900719338107181965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SM38TqpEFZI/AAAAAAAAABA/Gv3lUytDwC4/S220/Mexico+307.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SWb6t8reLII/AAAAAAAAABo/JpozOIP4Uy0/s72-c/IMG_3367.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7140464275690856223.post-4302701822292226783</id><published>2008-12-18T11:18:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-18T12:12:44.612-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='coffee'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Twilight Saga'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='computer'/><title type='text'>Life and Death Post Breakup</title><content type='html'>OK.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are going to take it slow.  I am back.  It wasn't you, it was me.  I just needed some space.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not really, but I thought it would be funny to pretend like it was a break-up and I was coming crawling back.  Not so funny if I have to explain though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was feeling distinctly un-bloggy for a while, but things seem to be brewing again.  Brewing.  That will be slightly funny later...in a very "poor girl" kind of way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few things that have happened recently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are making a Christmas video!  Sorry.  That was distinctly 90's of me.  We are making a Christmas DVD!  It is a compilation of all of the web videos that Michael has made this year and a bunch of special extras that have not been shown in cyberspace!  It has taken Michael over one hundred hours to put together this two hour Sauers Extravaganza - Sauersganza if you will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, the other night I was in bed with Bella and Edward (that's just a little teaser, folks) when I hear a frustrated sigh and "That really sucks!" followed by the distinct thud of a slamming laptop lid.  Knowing that this is not going to go away, I reluctantly glance at my "friends" and try to tell them with my eyes that I will be back soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What's wrong, honey?" (that's really what I call him...gag)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"My computer is dead."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How dead?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Dead, dead.  I was just about to burn the first DVD.  It is finally finished and now it is locked inside of this computer and it is DEAD!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Use mine.  Everything is saved on your Portable hard drive isn't it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sort of.  But the sdfwe sgwtgh akghr kahuergb nakje is on my computer."  (I'm sure that what he said made sense to computer savvy people, but to me, that is what it sounded like.  I think it was kinda like the difference in having cookies in the cupboard and having the INGREDIENTS for cookies in the cupboard.  Let it sink in for a minute and you will get it..... or not.  It makes perfect sense to me but my mind is a little left of normal.  He had all of the ingredients for the cookies in the port-a-brain, but the cookie container was the computer and someone put a padlock on it so we could not package up the cookies and send them to our friends and family!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well did you take out the batteries?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It is dead."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How about control - alt - delete?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rolls eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Did you shake it?  Maybe there is a loose connection."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He goes and gets the manual.  This is never a good sign.  He also has the receipt so I know he is preparing to send it back to Canada to the Future Shop.  (We have made it to Desert Hot Springs, California now and it is really interesting here.  Lots of cacti, palm trees, hot springs....but I digress.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm sorry your toy is broken."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hmph.  You realize this means we can't send the DVD, right."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do NOW! I make the conscious, and decidedly unselfish choice to play the supportive wife roll and not that of the whining brat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh...all your hard work.  I am so sorry!"  (Big hug that he silently endures.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And back to Bella and Edward I go.  "Who ARE these people?" you ask.  Only the best fictional characters I have met in MONTHS!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am reading the Twilight Saga!  Normally, I am not that into vampire books.  I mean, like any red blooded (haha) girl I read Ann Rice in the 90's, but i have not ventured into that world since then.  But these....sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I experience a unique sensation when I read or watch anything truly romantic.  My left wrist aches.  If it is truly, truly romantic then BOTH wrists ache.  And with over the top crazy romantic my neck aches, too!  Let me just tell you, I was a bundle of aches for the whole first book!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Twilight is so far my total favorite!  New Moon was good too, but not like Twilight.  I am now partway through Eclipse and am really liking it.  I think I have to wait for Christmas for the last book, but that gives me time to reread the first three.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that the first reading is kind of like the Christmas Dinner.  You are so excited to eat it and so hungry that you just Hoover it down.  Then for the second helping, you savor it more and really enjoy the nuances of flavor.  That is what the second reading will be like.  I will savor. I will enjoy.  I will remember to breath while I am reading and not try to navigate stairs out of hot tubs while still reading.  I will cook without the book in my face and answer my family with words rather than sounds.   I have to have something to do in the week before Breaking Dawn...I mean....Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after I have been reading for about half an hour, Michael comes into our room and looks at me.  I finish my paragraph and glance up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It was unplugged and the battery died."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"WHAT?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It looked like it was plugged in but the little plug that goes into the side was not making a full connection."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Good grief.  Well...I'm glad you got your toy back."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning, my coffee pot died.  I can't help but wonder if we were given back one life only to have another, equally important one, snatched from us. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss you Mr. Coffee. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;RIP.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7140464275690856223-4302701822292226783?l=thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/feeds/4302701822292226783/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7140464275690856223&amp;postID=4302701822292226783' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/4302701822292226783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/4302701822292226783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/2008/12/life-and-death-post-breakup.html' title='Life and Death Post Breakup'/><author><name>tinasauers</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06900719338107181965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SM38TqpEFZI/AAAAAAAAABA/Gv3lUytDwC4/S220/Mexico+307.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7140464275690856223.post-8000363327389985125</id><published>2008-10-18T02:46:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-10-18T14:38:25.686-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Frozen Toes But No Snow?</title><content type='html'>So....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   In case you were wondering, although extremely entertaining, it is probably not a good idea to spend two hours in the Oregon ocean in mid-October.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   The kids all bought skim boards when we were staying in Cannon Beach, but it was too chilly there to take them out.  This morning in Florence, Oregon, we awoke to blue skies and warm weather, so after school we suited up and headed for the beach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Once there, we all stood around in the water and tried to skim.  I think we need a Google tutorial as the only one even remotely successful was Andrew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   After giving up on that, we stood around in the waves and played.  At one point a dark face behind Michael caught my eye and we all were totally impressed that a seal had been attracted by us and kept popping up in different locations. At times he was only about 15 meters away!  He was totally curious and insanely cute.  Of course, Michael was nervous about us getting that close to a wild animal, but then again, he was not thrilled with me picking up the bunny last week either.  Anyways, after our family and the seal staring at each other for about five or ten minutes we all got bored and went our separate ways.  Michael took Abby and Matt and changed them into some warmer clothes and Andrew and I body surfed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Although it was shockingly cold at first, soon the waves felt nice and warm and we were actually chilled when they were not crashing into us.  We made a few remarks about not being sure that there were still feet attached to the bottoms of our legs and the sharp pains in our fingers when we bent them, but in all, it was no different than a day in the Northern Saskatchewan Lakes.  However... when you get out of a Northern Saskatchewan Lake it is usually into 25-30 degrees Celsius, because what fool would go swimming in that cold water on a blustery day?  What fool indeed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   When we got out of the ocean it was about 18 degrees Celsius and windy.  The burning in our digits began about halfway to the truck when we started to regain feeling.  Michael held up a blanket so we could strip down and wrap up and then we headed for home.  As soon as the truck stopped we beat a hasty path to the showers where we stood under the scalding steam for about half an hour each.  It took about another hour after that to stop the chills.  I think Andrew was actually a little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;shocky&lt;/span&gt; as his whole body was trembling and he did not freak out that I saw part of him naked while he was getting out of his trunks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Good times!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Lots of the waves were over our heads!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   People recover from hypothermia all the time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Can't wait to go back tomorrow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7140464275690856223-8000363327389985125?l=thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/feeds/8000363327389985125/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7140464275690856223&amp;postID=8000363327389985125' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/8000363327389985125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/8000363327389985125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/2008/10/frozen-toes-but-no-snow.html' title='Frozen Toes But No Snow?'/><author><name>tinasauers</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06900719338107181965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SM38TqpEFZI/AAAAAAAAABA/Gv3lUytDwC4/S220/Mexico+307.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7140464275690856223.post-7000450113067486102</id><published>2008-10-12T22:33:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-16T11:13:22.635-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A Love Story</title><content type='html'>It has been pointed out to me that I have not blogged recently...I think I was just waiting for this moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I had the great honour of watching my sister and Paul Bunyan get engaged today.  It was wonderfully romantic and all is well in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Lauraland&lt;/span&gt;.  I was however concerned lest she &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;inadvertently&lt;/span&gt; flash her new rock out to sea and cause a ship to become confused and head into the new lighthouse at Haystack Rock.  I must say that it was a good thing that she started going to the gym or I don't know if her poor body would be able to bear the stress of the added carat weight!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Now on to my news.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday was possibly the best day of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me just preface this story with a little background information. Last summer I was introduced to "Kathy" and I fell in love. My client's mom, Bonny, brought Kathy in to meet me and I was immediately drawn to her. Style, Charms, Colour....she is the whole bag....literally. Her full name is Kathy Van Zeeland and in my opinion, she designs the most beautiful handbags on the planet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you have a Kathy you do not carry it, you wear it. They are available in oh so many colours and they all have her signature silver filigree and crystal charms dangling and tinkling so enticingly off of their comfort padded straps. She adds a signature decal of bling to each one as well. Each sighting of a Kathy was enough to make my heart soar and my hand reach out of its own accord and wistfully caress her. This was often unappreciated by the general public, but who were they to deny me my pleasure?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, Kathy and I had only a passing fancy, for though I loved her, alas, I am cheap and Canadian. What do these things have to do with the other? Good question. Sit grasshopper and listen while Tina explains.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kathy's are an American brand. When they cross over that imaginary line we call the border, they somehow jump in price. What costs $89 state side becomes 110 canuck coins. Fair? I think not, but this is life on the sunny side of the septic tank friends. Since there was no way on God's green earth that I could justify spending that much to bring her home, Kathy and I seemed doomed to our furtive encounters in the mall. I combed Ebay and still came up with the now familiar ache in my bosom. It seemed that Kathy and I would never be able to take our relationship to the next level.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then a magnificent think happened. I became a Gypsy. Guess what? Gypsies cross borders!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three weeks ago we entered the USA and my Kathy Quest renewed its intensity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast Forward!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday my sister and PB were due to arrive in Portland at 7:45 pm. We set out bright and early from Cannon Beach. I had it in my mind that maybe today was the day, but like a nine and a half month pregnant woman I had nearly run out of hope that the day would ever come.&lt;br /&gt;We entered a Portland mall and I cast a disappointed look around. There was nary an upscale department or shoe store to be found. I stumbled sadly into Dress Barn where a well meaning sales lady asked if she could be of assistance. Despondent, I sighed that I couldn't find my love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She thought for a minute, scribbled something down on a Post It and wished me luck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Slowly, I unfolded the tiny scrap of hope and read "Burlington Coat Factory, Jantzen Lake Centre."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quickly I rounded up Michael and the kids and loaded them into the truck. I punched the precious information into the GPS and prayed that she would be able to find her way. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Calculating Route. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Left turn in 300 meters. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She knew where to go and hope began to unfurl in me like a fern frond in the prairie spring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Traffic seemed to magically part as Sylvie gracefully wove her way along the interstates. Maggie gently urged us on with her "Keep to the left" and "Exit in one kilometre" reminders. I slid into the parking lot, coasted to a stop and called back over my shoulder to meet me inside as I sprung from the truck and into the mall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Smiling politely but not bothering to stop for chit chat, I breezed past the greeter/security guard and into the store. My barren shoulders seemed to sense which way to turn as I hurried past jewellery, clothes and shoes to the Handbag department. The overhead lighting focused all of its energy and shone down on the Kathy's like the sun breaking through an overcast Oregon sky as I rounded the final corner into a whole row of my favourite gleaming handbags! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was black, bronze, green, silver, ruby, cobalt, mustard and gold. There was patent and flat, crinkle, smooth and quilted. I floated over on my cloud and turned over the price tag. $44.95! That is when the first tear slipped from my eye. Another soon followed when I remembered that Oregon is the Land of No Taxes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I skipped down the aisle filling my arms with all my pretty babies. I swear I could hear their little voices saying "Me too!" and "Pick me!" Almost intoxicated, I stumbled out of the aisle and cornered several ladies to tell them about the best day of my life. One kind soul passed me a tissue for the tears and drool and another kindly pointed out that it was possible that I may not need two of the bronze belted shoppers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realized that my family would soon be catching up and I needed to spend some time narrowing the purchase field as I was almost positive that the budget nazi would not let me adopt eleven little Kathy's. I made my way to the lingerie department and lined them all up on the carpet before sitting down with them. One by one, I picked them up, had a little snuggle and let them down easy. We said our goodbyes until finally there were just three of them and me. I took the others back and lovingly placed them on their shelves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now for the three. By now I had an emotional bond with them. The Moss Patent Buckle Up Shopper; the Black Patent Buckle Up Crinkle Shopper and the Gold Patent Hobo bag. I held them all to me hearing the pleasant tinkle of their charms bouncing with glee at being off of the hangar and agonized at my choice. How do you choose between three loves? The gold was on clearance so it became an automatic winner. For $34.95 only a fool would say no. But the moss and the black...who could choose? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Michael. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Michael would choose for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nervously, I introduced them all and he showed them the respect that Kathy's are due. OK....he may have been a little frightened. He has seen me watch QVC with tears dripping off of my chin with the sheer angst of want. He has listened to me describe the dreams that they have appeared in and has assured me time and time again that I would know the right one when I saw it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Pass them to me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What! Why! You can't put them back! They love me!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Tina, pass them to me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why! I can't!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Pass them."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The green went, followed grudgingly by the black.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The gold one, too."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nooooo! Honey... it's on sale! I can't leave without it!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The gold one, too."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I passed it over and after a short tug of war and gently peeling my fingers back, all three Kathy's rested in Michael's arms. I tried to inconspicuously wipe away my tears as I saw my hopes come crashing around me like the waves at Haystack Rock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He held out the gold to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Happy Birthday."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The black.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Happy Anniversary."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The green.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Merry Christmas"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do I have a great husband or what? I am still a little light-headed thinking about how thankful I am. How fitting that this weekend it Canadian Thanksgiving, for I am indeed blessed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for the mustard...I hear my Mom is sending money for Christmas!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7140464275690856223-7000450113067486102?l=thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/feeds/7000450113067486102/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7140464275690856223&amp;postID=7000450113067486102' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/7000450113067486102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/7000450113067486102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/2008/10/love-story.html' title='A Love Story'/><author><name>tinasauers</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06900719338107181965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SM38TqpEFZI/AAAAAAAAABA/Gv3lUytDwC4/S220/Mexico+307.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7140464275690856223.post-2941387052179415574</id><published>2008-09-23T22:30:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-09-23T22:54:04.028-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Get Your Earrings Ready, Aunty!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;We ventured out today and saw some amazing things! &lt;br /&gt;    -You can buy beer in WalMart.  Weird.  I really don't even have anything else to say about this.  Oh wait...I always have something to say.  I take my kids to WalMart.  Everyone knows that WalMart is Tina's &lt;st1:street&gt;&lt;st1:address&gt;Happy Place&lt;/st1:address&gt;&lt;/st1:Street&gt;.  Beer does not make Tina happy.  There were people pulling up to WalMart drinking beer.  One can only assume that they needed refills and were just popping in for a pint or two.  Again I say: wierd.   In case you are confused by my confusion, in &lt;st1:country-region&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Canada&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;  you can only buy alcohol at liquor stores.  Not WalMart, Safeway, or the Shell station on the corner. &lt;br /&gt;    -The &lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;st1:placename&gt;Glass&lt;/st1:PlaceName&gt; &lt;st1:placetype&gt;Bridge&lt;/st1:PlaceType&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;.  I had a Tina Moment and thought that it would be a bridge made entirely of glass.  I was mistaken.  It is BETTER!  WAY better!  It is a pedestrian bridge over a freeway in &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Tacoma&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt;.  It leads from the &lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;st1:placename&gt;Washington&lt;/st1:PlaceName&gt; &lt;st1:placetype&gt;Art   Museum&lt;/st1:PlaceType&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; and &lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;st1:placename&gt;History&lt;/st1:PlaceName&gt;  &lt;st1:placetype&gt;Museum&lt;/st1:PlaceType&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; across to the &lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;st1:placename&gt;Glass&lt;/st1:PlaceName&gt;  &lt;st1:placetype&gt;Museum&lt;/st1:PlaceType&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;.  On the bridge there are all kinds of Glass displays that are on loan from the museum.  They are huge beautiful collections of art that have to be seen to be believed.  If I know how to link to some pics I would.  We plan to go back and see the &lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;st1:placename&gt;Glass&lt;/st1:PlaceName&gt; &lt;st1:placetype&gt;Museum&lt;/st1:PlaceType&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; so perhaps I can add photos after that.  Or you could Google it.&lt;br /&gt;    -My daughter is gorgeous.  She and I went to a Bridal Boutique where she tried on tons of flower girl dresses.  I seriously had a tear or two.  She got all shy and could barely even talk.  The funny thing is that she was not shy because of other people being around; she was just awed by the beauty of the gowns and the awesome privilege of being able to wear one.  She has decided to be a singer when she grows up, but informed me that it will not be all soft and gentle songs, but that she wants to sing Rock Star songs like Miley/Hanna.  Get your earrings ready Aunty!&lt;br /&gt;    -Jesus Invented Pumpkin Spice Latte's.  As I took my first sip Michael looked at me and said "You are singing it right now, aren't you?"  Sure enough, the song "Heaven, I'm in Heaven" was floating through my mind.  We discussed whether it was sacrilegious for me to say that they were invented by Jesus, but we decided that it was not and we have biblical proof in the form of the verse "Every good and perfect gift comes from you."  I can not remember the verse address, but it really fits, and on today, a particularly lonely and gift needing day, it was indeed a perfect gift and I gave thanks!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7140464275690856223-2941387052179415574?l=thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/feeds/2941387052179415574/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7140464275690856223&amp;postID=2941387052179415574' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/2941387052179415574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/2941387052179415574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/2008/09/get-your-earrings-ready-aunty.html' title='Get Your Earrings Ready, Aunty!'/><author><name>tinasauers</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06900719338107181965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SM38TqpEFZI/AAAAAAAAABA/Gv3lUytDwC4/S220/Mexico+307.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7140464275690856223.post-2077381073554391563</id><published>2008-09-23T01:16:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-09-23T02:12:44.349-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A Goat Trail By Any Other Name</title><content type='html'>Today marks the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;beginning&lt;/span&gt; of our trip into "THE GREAT UNKNOWN".  I am going to speak here like I actually have a following that does not already know &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;everything&lt;/span&gt; that there is to know about me.  (I love and miss you all by the way!) &lt;br /&gt;    My family is on a one year vacation.  We are homeschooling and doing all the touristy things.  We are having a blast...most days.  Today was monumental!  We have been on the road for almost three months now and have covered three provinces, but today we crossed The Big Border.  That's right...we have crossed to the other side.  We are now temporarily residing in the USA.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;The&lt;/span&gt; monumental part is that while we were doing lots of new and exciting things, they were all in places that we had been before.  This is the first destination that we have never ever been to!  It is so exciting.  (and scary.)&lt;br /&gt;    We are in a little (and by little I mean huge in Saskatchewan terms but not so much here) city that is called &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Puyallup&lt;/span&gt;.  As far as I can tell, it is pronounced similarly to tulip if you were giving tulip a really long "u" sound.&lt;br /&gt;    How is it that one can travel for under an hour and get out of one's vehicle and realize that one is now the one that has the accent and not the charming American that is at the checkout behind one.  (I know the one's don't all work but once I had started I couldn't stop.  That is the trouble with one....it never ends up being just one.)  We crossed the border at the Peace Arch near Blaine, WA.  I am not sure, but I think that the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;abbreviation&lt;/span&gt; for Washington is WA.  In Tina Land it is anyway.  (So there.)  We had to wait eighty minutes to cross.  By the time we got to the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;actual&lt;/span&gt; crossing, I had worked myself up into a state.  Surprising, I know.  I was picturing a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;meany&lt;/span&gt; crossing guard pointing us over to the side of the road, a team of snarling, drooling Dobermans holding us at bay, and a lady crossing guard with a bad set of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;hi lites&lt;/span&gt; and a too tight uniform doing the cavity search while the crossing guards in training spread all of our earthly belongings through the ditch on the side of the road.  It didn't quite happen that way.  We had a really nice Guard who told a little story about a guy with a really big RV having to unpack his luggage carrier to get it through the underpass &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;dealy&lt;/span&gt;, watched a bit of the kids movie and sent us on our way.  He was very interested in if we were bringing garlic across the border though.   I had some packed in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;EVOO&lt;/span&gt;, but that stuff was OK.  Apparently, garlic is only &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;lethal&lt;/span&gt; to Washingtonians in its natural state.  We have since hung our entire campsite with bunches of the stuff and plastered mirrors on every empty surface.  The large crosses and wooden stakes go without saying. (or at least they would have if I had not mentioned them.)  Seriously though...why is garlic a problem to bring across the border?  I am so confused. Fortunately, this is not uncharted territory for me.  I have been confused before and will be again.  Life goes on.&lt;br /&gt;    After our non-eventful crossing we went to Jack in the Box for the first time ever.  We needed drinks after our long wait in the border line-up.  Just to let you know, a medium pop on this side of the border is WAY bigger than it is back home.  Having said this, you will quickly see the problem presented by Abigail about an hour later while I was navigating fifty six feet of vehicle down the I5 in the middle of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Seatle&lt;/span&gt;.  Although we tried to convince her, the Jack in the Box cup was apparently a one way street as far as her liquids were concerned and she would not send them back from whence they came.  After we got out of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;downtownish&lt;/span&gt; area I illegally pulled over (what is with all the no parking on the side of the road signs anyway?) and we hustled back into the trailer to pee.   It was TERRIFYING!  The semi's rock that trailer like it's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;nobodies&lt;/span&gt; business!  She had to go into her bedroom and change her pants and I was praying the whole time that the trailer would not flip over.  Even Andrew was scared and he was still in the truck.  (Abby almost was not the only one who needed dry pants!)  Matt &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;pee'd&lt;/span&gt; in the bushes on the side of the road, but since Michael was sporting a bright orange T-shirt, he elected to use the camper as well.  I know I already said this, but let me &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;reiterate&lt;/span&gt;: TERRIFYING!  Keep in mind that this is coming from some very seasoned ditch pee-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;ers&lt;/span&gt;.  This was like no pee ever taken before.  Once we had regained our seats it took about 5 minutes of signalling before I was able to make a break for the driving lane.  People really do not like to let others merge here.  Eventually I just peeled off of the shoulder and into traffic with the attitude that of  "I am bigger than you so MOVE!"and Michael and I hi-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;fived&lt;/span&gt; on my driving prowess.  All that would soon change.&lt;br /&gt;    For Christmas last year, my Dad gave us a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;Magellan&lt;/span&gt; GPS system.  We have nicknamed her "Maggie" and we love her dearly.  Maggie, Sylvie (our 2002 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;Silverado&lt;/span&gt;) and the five of us make a good little team.  Sometimes however, Maggie is an idiot.  Today she thought it would be fun to take us down a goat trail.  It was a goat trail cleverly disguised as a bridge, but a goat trail by any other name would still be too narrow!  I actually had to roll down my window and fold in the mirror on my side so that the UPS truck could get past us and at the same time I was trying to get my hind end onto the bridge.  I ended up having about an inch between the camper and the guard rail.  It took up about &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;forty&lt;/span&gt; five minutes to make the trip that the ever so kind lady at the desk of our campsite drawled "You &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;coulda&lt;/span&gt; just stayed on the I5 and you &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;woulda&lt;/span&gt; been here in five minutes!  You never can trust the GPS systems or the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;mapquest&lt;/span&gt;." &lt;br /&gt;    Bad Maggie.  Bad bad bad Maggie!&lt;br /&gt;    On a high note, fuel is REALLY cheap here!  We have been spending between $110 and $120 to fill up.  Tonight the fuel was $3.97 per gallon where we fuelled up and it only cost $87!  We were sucking fumes and filled up all the way too!  We had a little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;IKEA&lt;/span&gt; moment and screamed "START THE CAR!  START THE CAR!"  Sylvie was not offended at being called a car; she was just happy to be fed.  We were a little sad when we got up the road a bit and found Diesel for $3.63 at Safeway though.  Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;    I have spent way too much time blogging tonight and will surely be grouchy for school in the morning, so now it is time to say goodnight.  Keep in touch.  Gypsies get lonely!&lt;br /&gt;    Good night, Gracie.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7140464275690856223-2077381073554391563?l=thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/feeds/2077381073554391563/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7140464275690856223&amp;postID=2077381073554391563' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/2077381073554391563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/2077381073554391563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/2008/09/goat-trail-by-any-other-name.html' title='A Goat Trail By Any Other Name'/><author><name>tinasauers</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06900719338107181965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SM38TqpEFZI/AAAAAAAAABA/Gv3lUytDwC4/S220/Mexico+307.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7140464275690856223.post-6951042145968074005</id><published>2008-09-20T00:01:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2008-09-20T01:24:57.024-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Royal British Columbia Museum'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Wax Museum'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Victoria'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='McDonald&apos;s'/><title type='text'>Pretty Can't Hide Sketchy</title><content type='html'>Don't judge a book by its cover.  Pretty is as pretty does.  So quiet you could hear a pin drop.  Crystal &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;chandeliers&lt;/span&gt; don't hide the fact that it is a McDonald's in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Scaryville&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.  I think that last sentence will soon become a cliche as well used as the first three.  Well...it would if everyone were eating at the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;McDonald's&lt;/span&gt; downtown Victoria on the corner of Douglas and View anyway.&lt;br /&gt;The alarm went off this morning and I stretched, rolled over and cried myself back to sleep at the thought of facing another day of this:&lt;br /&gt;-Eat your breakfast!  You can't have school on an empty stomach!&lt;br /&gt;-Stop laying on the floor and pick up your pajama's.&lt;br /&gt;-You know this is a classroom now, so get it cleaned up!&lt;br /&gt;-No, you cannot bring three &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;stuffies&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; to school with you!&lt;br /&gt;-Swallow!  Swallow now!  If you puke up that pill again....&lt;br /&gt;-Quit looking at yourself in the window!&lt;br /&gt;-No it is not recess!&lt;br /&gt;After several minutes of rocking and moaning, we decided to be naughty and skip school today.  I feel good about that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;decision&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;We set out en &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;famile&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; to downtown Victoria, that quaint hubbub of history, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;buskers&lt;/span&gt;, and the like.  We went there yesterday as well but when we got to the museum they said they were closing in an hour and we decided to go to the Wax Museum and save the Royal British Columbia Museum for another day.  Today was that day!   (Have to mention that the wax museum is CREEPY and I wish I had followed my gut and went shopping or sat with the buskers and pretended to have a talent instead of going there!)&lt;br /&gt;We LOVE the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;RBCM&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;!  I am not a huge fan of museums.  My &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;moto&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; is if you've seen some old crap you've seen it all.  Not so at these digs though!  WOW!  There is a place there that if you stand in the middle it sounds like you are speaking into a microphone but the people close to you can't hear you!  Also, you can hear a whisper from across the room!  Now this got me to thinking, if I can hear Michael whispering that clearly from here, I wonder if we could hear a pin drop? I was fresh out of pins, so I of course took the next logical step.  I removed my diamond stud that my Dad gave me from my earlobe, gathered the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;fam&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; around and dropped the earring on the floor.  Museums are dark.  Have you ever noticed that?  Not only did we not hear the earring drop, we lost the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;aforementioned&lt;/span&gt; earring.  So there we were, among the deer and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;grizzly&lt;/span&gt; bears crawling around using our cell phones as flashlights looking for my earring!  Fear not, it was eventually found, but that museum carpet really does hide everything and if you have toddlers you might want to look into putting it in wall to wall!&lt;br /&gt;After exploring for what seemed like moments and was in fact 3.5 hours, we decided to go for a snack.  The museum shop was hideously &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;expensive&lt;/span&gt; so we hit the streets.  Yesterday Abby, Matt and I walked past a neat little shop &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;called&lt;/span&gt; Roger's Chocolates where they have a retro soda bar complete with servers with the little hats and a twirly straw dispenser so I thought we should go there.  I soon thought differently when we popped in and saw that it would cost $40 for the 5 of us to have a milkshake.&lt;br /&gt;Now, on our first day in Victoria we did some driving around.  On our &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;travels&lt;/span&gt; we saw the fanciest &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;McChoke&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Puke's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; we have ever seen.  There is a 12 foot &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;chandelier&lt;/span&gt; in the lobby (that's right...LOBBY!)  There are several more crystal chandeliers throughout the restaurant.  So when the parental veto of the soda shoppe came down it was followed by cries of "Fancy McDonald's! Fancy McDonald's!" and off we went!  We decided to walk down Douglas for a change of scenery.  We got one!  There were all sorts of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;weird&lt;/span&gt; costumes including one girl whom I can only assume was going for a Christmas Village Staff interview as she was wearing a white fur lined red cape and red and white striped thigh high stockings with her ankle boots.  We smelled the smells including lovely restaurants and some odd sweet smoke.  At the sight of the odd sweet smoke we overheard the man with his cap in hand putting his order in for some weed in about half an hour once he had enough money.  That reinforced our &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;decision&lt;/span&gt; to never give out money, only meals.  We hiked for what seemed like miles to finally get to "Fancy McDonald's".  Once we arrived, the tables were filthy, the fries were cold, the nuggets were cold, the waiters were rude, and there were pickles stuck to the fancy art they had hung on the walls.  Groups of what our Saskatchewan trained eyes immediately picked out as gangs &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;inundated&lt;/span&gt; the space without ordering and got very loud.  They were not speaking &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;English&lt;/span&gt; so I have nothing to report, but it did sound menacing.  They were asked to leave.  We huddled in our little corner not wanting to let our eyes wander or any unclothed portion of our body touch any surfaces.  When we felt somewhat safe enough to leave we huddled into a pack and shuffled to the back of the restaurant to relieve our nervous bladders and Abby and I had the treat of listening to the woman in the next stall strip down and shoot up while her cart waited outside.&lt;br /&gt;   Back at the Museum we took in a Charlie Chaplain flick.  The tiny theatre was cute with a fake little ticket booth.  It is a good thing they only charge five cents to see his flicks because they are really quite boring!  The kids were very concerned about why the sound in the theatre was not working.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Ahh&lt;/span&gt; the innocence of our Disney fed children!  Apparently when you go to a silent movie you are supposed to remain silent as well.  Michael did not think that the folks around us much enjoyed my narration of the film.  I choose to think that they were craning around to catch a glimpse of the starlet that the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;witty&lt;/span&gt; monologue was issuing forth from and that they simply all had to use the facilities in tandem.&lt;br /&gt;    In conclusion:&lt;br /&gt;-Keep your earrings in.&lt;br /&gt;-Control your longings for the fancy things in life.&lt;br /&gt;-Swallow your pills.&lt;br /&gt;-Apply early for Christmas work.&lt;br /&gt;-Keep your mouth shut at silent films.&lt;br /&gt;-Give meals not money.&lt;br /&gt;-Skip School.&lt;br /&gt;-Pretty Can't Hide Sketchy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7140464275690856223-6951042145968074005?l=thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/feeds/6951042145968074005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7140464275690856223&amp;postID=6951042145968074005' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/6951042145968074005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/6951042145968074005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/2008/09/pretty-cant-hide-sketchy.html' title='Pretty Can&apos;t Hide Sketchy'/><author><name>tinasauers</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06900719338107181965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SM38TqpEFZI/AAAAAAAAABA/Gv3lUytDwC4/S220/Mexico+307.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7140464275690856223.post-3534744681270821201</id><published>2008-09-16T20:53:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-09-16T21:12:42.123-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bath tub accident'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='butt'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='home school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cold'/><title type='text'>Sickness, Solitude and Sore Butt Syndrome</title><content type='html'>It sucks to be sick in a camper.  I don't know about you, but when I am sick I just want to hide away all alone and wallow in my own filth.  Usually I am not a fan of filth, but when I am sick I feel no desire to beautify.  Sometimes a nice hot bath or can be soothing, but usually it just makes the fever worse, increases dizziness and then you stumble, fall backwards out of the tub,  pull the shower curtain down knock the rod loose, crack your head on the porcelain thrown... I'm sure it has happened to everyone, right!?  And then to make matters worse, when you are still reeling from the head hitting the toilet bit the rod comes down on you too. &lt;br /&gt;    I think the fever made me lose my train of thought there for a bit.  As I was saying, for me, sickness craves solitude.  Have you any idea how difficult it is to be solitary in a tiny space with five people in it?  Does anyone have &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;air miles&lt;/span&gt; burning a hole in their pocket and want to spend them on a nice little B&amp;amp;B in Victoria for me?&lt;br /&gt;    Michael ended up teaching by himself today.  Poor guy!  Although I got out of teaching today (read: was sent to bed for extreme grouchiness) my day was far from a walk in the park.  I have an unusual symptom with this cold.  My butt hurts.  It really really hurts.  It hurts in the bones!  It hurts to sit, to lay on my back, to lean on it when laying on my side.  What, pray tell is wrong with my butt? &lt;br /&gt;    Is it as my dad has said all along?  Could it be?  Say it ain't so!  Am I a pain in the butt?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7140464275690856223-3534744681270821201?l=thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/feeds/3534744681270821201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7140464275690856223&amp;postID=3534744681270821201' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/3534744681270821201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/3534744681270821201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/2008/09/sickness-solitude-and-sore-butt.html' title='Sickness, Solitude and Sore Butt Syndrome'/><author><name>tinasauers</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06900719338107181965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SM38TqpEFZI/AAAAAAAAABA/Gv3lUytDwC4/S220/Mexico+307.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7140464275690856223.post-2126650392661019629</id><published>2008-09-12T11:55:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-09-12T12:59:47.123-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='patience'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hairstylist'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='home school'/><title type='text'>Job Opening- Start Immediately-No Pay-No Benefits!</title><content type='html'>So after nine days of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;home school&lt;/span&gt;, I have come to an important realization.  It is a very good thing that I dropped out of University after a halfhearted attempt to become a teacher.  I am a very good Hairstylist.  Teacher...not so much. &lt;br /&gt;    Perhaps it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;comes&lt;/span&gt; from trying to teach my own children.  Maybe I would do better with other people's children.  This statement, although, raises the question: Who would want their children to be my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;guinea&lt;/span&gt; pigs?&lt;br /&gt;    People keep telling me that the first six weeks of home school are the hardest.  SIX WEEKS!  You have got to be kidding me!  This is not going to get better for SIX WEEKS!  The next person to tell me this MAY experience the violent side of Tina! &lt;br /&gt;    I wonder if it would be too disruptive &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;for&lt;/span&gt; the kids to be enrolled in schools for two week time periods?  Maybe. &lt;br /&gt;    All of these thoughts have led me to believe that it is time to post a job offer.&lt;br /&gt;WANTED:&lt;br /&gt;Person to Home School my Three Lovely Children&lt;br /&gt;The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;successful&lt;/span&gt; applicant (hereafter known as Sucker) will:&lt;br /&gt;- Be exceedingly patient.  Sucker will not be prone to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;outbursts&lt;/span&gt; even after Sucker has said "The answer is "c".  Say "c" and the child says "b".&lt;br /&gt;-Be able to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;successfully&lt;/span&gt; school my three children in 3 hours or less every week day.  Sucker will not come to me for help and will not need to assign homework because everything will be done in class.  This &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;frees&lt;/span&gt; up my afternoons to be able to have fun time with the kiddies.&lt;br /&gt;-Not mind feeding the children their breakfast.  This allows me to catch up on much needed sleep as I will be exhausted from all of the fun afternoons.  Sucker will also provide a healthy and tasty lunch on days that end in "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;ay&lt;/span&gt;".&lt;br /&gt;-Not live with us, travel with us, eat with us or interact much with us at all.  Sucker will not be paid for this job but will do it willingly.&lt;br /&gt;Interested applicants need not apply.  You are hired!  Just come and join us on the road and start your duties immediately...PLEASE!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7140464275690856223-2126650392661019629?l=thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/feeds/2126650392661019629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7140464275690856223&amp;postID=2126650392661019629' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/2126650392661019629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/2126650392661019629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/2008/09/job-opening-start-immediately-no-pay-no.html' title='Job Opening- Start Immediately-No Pay-No Benefits!'/><author><name>tinasauers</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06900719338107181965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SM38TqpEFZI/AAAAAAAAABA/Gv3lUytDwC4/S220/Mexico+307.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7140464275690856223.post-6617424210479248565</id><published>2008-09-08T22:26:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-09-08T22:28:41.060-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='clown'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tambourine'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shark'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dogs'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='camping'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sing-a-long'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='seal'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hemp'/><title type='text'>Only In British Columbia</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Strange things happen in BC.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I don’t know if I should be shocked by this, but I kinda am.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It started out in &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Penticton&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; when I went to the hemp store.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Now, any hemp store that I have been to in &lt;st1:state&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Saskatchewan&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:State&gt; just sells things made of hemp and they don’t do much talking about drugs.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;In BC, this is not the case.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The store in question did not actually sell pot, but they gave a lot of lessons in its uses, paraphernalia, where to buy it, what grade of pot people have previously bought and the like.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Unfortunately, when the lesson started and I realized what kind of store I was in, I was already naked…because I was trying on clothes in the change room… and could not beat an extremely hasty retreat.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So, Abby got a bit of an education that day.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Yesterday, we went to White Rock.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It is near &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Vancouver&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt;.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It is a beautiful little city with a great wharf and pier and other nautical sounding things.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It actually reminded me a whole lot of &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Puerto Vallarta&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt;.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;While we were there, we saw a dog in a snugly.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;You know…the little backpack deally for carrying babies in… but this one had a pampered pooch in it.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Then we started down the pier and at the end of it found that a young boy had caught a shark with a fishing rod.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He threw it back eventually but it did not look too healthy.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I could not believe the amount of people that were still swimming with it right there in the water.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It had taken a chunk out of the Grandpa’s hand, so maybe they thought it was full.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We watched a number of people that were crab fishing and that was really cool till I got attacked by a spastic &lt;st1:state&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Chihuahua&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:State&gt;.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I soooo wanted to kick it off the pier and let the shark have its way with it.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But I exercised restraint.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;When we were driving away from White Rock we also saw a clown riding a Motorbike and a dog in a doggy wheelchair.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;A few days ago we went to Port Roberts for our first foray into the states.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;While there, we were enthusiastically welcomed by a large group of home schoolers who were camping there to celebrate not going back to school.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They mistakenly thought that we were camping with them.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They were very very friendly and we kinda wished we were camping there.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;While at that beach, Abby got very excited because she thought that she could see a sea turtle.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Then she decided it must be a dog.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;When Matt and I finally figured out what she was looking at we realized that it was a seal hanging out on the dock.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My poor &lt;st1:state&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Saskatchewan&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:State&gt; baby…&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;But the icing on the BC weirdness cake has to be the group that we are currently camped beside in Langford on &lt;st1:place&gt;Vancouver Island&lt;/st1:place&gt;.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They are full timers and have been for the past two years.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They have been sitting outside singing and playing original folk music for about three hours now.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;At one point we sent Matt out to play the tambourine with them.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And by we, of course I mean I sent him out and my darling husband protested.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It has now grown into a multi campsite, bilingual sing-a-long and as far as I can tell, they have spent a lot of time at the hemp store because they are singing the praises of various types of drugs very enthusiastically.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Glory be…they went for more beer!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;What songs and stories will we be blessed with now?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Fortunately there is only an hour and a half till quiet time!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Maybe I will get up and sing some praise music in the morning before school!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7140464275690856223-6617424210479248565?l=thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/feeds/6617424210479248565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7140464275690856223&amp;postID=6617424210479248565' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/6617424210479248565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/6617424210479248565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/2008/09/only-in-british-columbia.html' title='Only In British Columbia'/><author><name>tinasauers</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06900719338107181965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SM38TqpEFZI/AAAAAAAAABA/Gv3lUytDwC4/S220/Mexico+307.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7140464275690856223.post-4284911235590065675</id><published>2008-08-30T00:32:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-08-30T01:07:25.488-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jelly fish'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='photocopying'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mouth injury'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Krispy Kreme'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family visit'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hannah Montana clothes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='racoon'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stitches'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='home school'/><title type='text'>Highs and Lows in Vancouver</title><content type='html'>Cool Things I Saw Today&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Krispy&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Kreme&lt;/span&gt; Donuts.  We had never been to one before and were very excited to see and try a famous &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Krispy&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Kreme&lt;/span&gt; Donut.  Yeah....it's a donut.  I enjoyed my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Timmies&lt;/span&gt; cookie much more.&lt;br /&gt;2.  My Uncle Fred and Aunt Helen.  He is my Grandma T's twin, or womb-mate as I like to call him.  They are really interesting people with a great home in Boundary Bay about two blocks from the ocean.  We went there for supper...sorry....dinner tonight and had a great time.  Their house is filled with beautiful antiques and lots of little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;nik&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;naks&lt;/span&gt; from their world travels. &lt;br /&gt;3.  The Ocean!  I know it is probably not cool to be as impressed with the ocean as I am, but that's the way it is folks.  I get a thrill whenever I see it! &lt;br /&gt;4.  A jelly fish!  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;....so it was dead on the sand, but it was a first for me anyways!  I totally&lt;br /&gt;felt it too!  It felt just like I have always thought it would.  Like a huge gummy bear.  I did not lick it, so I can't say if it tasted like one or not, but I would suspect not.&lt;br /&gt;5.  A Family of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Raccoons&lt;/span&gt;! They ran across the road in front of the truck!  I LOVE &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;raccoons&lt;/span&gt;!  One year when I was a kid, my Grandpa shot a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;raccoon&lt;/span&gt; that was hanging around his barn.  About a week later, I was in the barn with the hired man's kids and we heard a noise and looked around and there was about five or six staggering little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;raccoons&lt;/span&gt; coming out of one of the abandoned stalls.  It was so sad.  I wanted to keep one as a pet and my mom later said that she would have let me, but Grandpa killed them all.  I guess that being a farmer you don't want to encourage pests, but I have always found them to be fascinating creatures. My friends and I took the babies out into the back pasture and gave them a Christian Burial.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not So Cool Things I Saw Today&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  The Photocopier At Staples.   I stared at it for what felt like hours as we photocopied stacks and stacks of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;home school&lt;/span&gt; stuff.  It was really boring and tedious and most of the kids hated it.  Andrew had fun because he got to use a paper cutter.&lt;br /&gt;2.  The Jelly Fish Ripping in Half.  Not so much a sight thing but a texture thing.  I had it held up on a stick so that Andrew could take pictures and it just pulled apart from the weight.  I could feel the flesh ripping apart.  Still makes me queasy.&lt;br /&gt;3. Blood Pouring Out of Abby's Mouth.  She somehow smashed her face into a new stool that we bought while she was putting it away and put her teeth through her lip.  It is terribly&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; swollen and very difficult for her to talk.  She tore the leather like top of the stool as well and I am pretty sure she will lose the tooth which is OK because it was one of the top baby ones that she would be losing soon anyway.&lt;br /&gt;4. My Baby Getting Stitches in Her Mouth.  OK...one stitch, but it was traumatic for me.  She was a little trouper, and I may have &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;promised&lt;/span&gt; her a new Hannah &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Montana&lt;/span&gt; outfit for being so brave.  I hate it so much when the kids are hurt..  I wish it would just happen to me instead.  I am so much more experienced at it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7140464275690856223-4284911235590065675?l=thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/feeds/4284911235590065675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7140464275690856223&amp;postID=4284911235590065675' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/4284911235590065675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/4284911235590065675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/2008/08/highs-and-lows-in-vancouver.html' title='Highs and Lows in Vancouver'/><author><name>tinasauers</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06900719338107181965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SM38TqpEFZI/AAAAAAAAABA/Gv3lUytDwC4/S220/Mexico+307.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7140464275690856223.post-5442227046188467259</id><published>2008-08-20T18:47:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-08-20T18:50:25.249-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Idiot Day Update</title><content type='html'>Apparently I am more of an Idiot Day participant than I had intended to be.  We went to church on Sunday, settled in, turned around to see the lay of the land noticed that in the very back seat of the church was the guy that I fought with at the KOA.  OOPS.  I felt a wee bit sheepish.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7140464275690856223-5442227046188467259?l=thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/feeds/5442227046188467259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7140464275690856223&amp;postID=5442227046188467259' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/5442227046188467259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/5442227046188467259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/2008/08/idiot-day-update.html' title='Idiot Day Update'/><author><name>tinasauers</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06900719338107181965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SM38TqpEFZI/AAAAAAAAABA/Gv3lUytDwC4/S220/Mexico+307.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7140464275690856223.post-6147438429165842083</id><published>2008-08-15T13:03:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-08-15T13:07:48.950-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='towing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='idiots'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='harley'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='campgrounds'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='travel trailer'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gas station'/><title type='text'>A Day For Idiocy</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;        Little did I realize, this morning, when I awoke in Cochrane that it was National Idiots Day.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The only thing I can think of to excuse myself is that I have a &lt;st1:state&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Saskatchewan&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:state&gt; calendar and I was in &lt;st1:state&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Alberta&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:state&gt; and &lt;st1:state&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;British Columbia&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:state&gt; today.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I figure that it must be one of those things like Family Day, where it was in &lt;st1:state&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Alberta&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:state&gt; for a few years and then slowly was adapted to the rest of our fair nation.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We must have stumbled into some Far West Idiocy Pilot Project.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It is the only thing that really makes sense.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;To start off, Michael wouldn’t let me take the scenic route from Cochrane to &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Banff&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He claimed that the shoulders were too narrow.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So I trudged down the 22 and merged onto the &lt;st1:street&gt;&lt;st1:address&gt;Trans Idiot Highway&lt;/st1:address&gt;&lt;/st1:street&gt;.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They actually renamed it just for today.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;How nice.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;As I merged, I was overtaken by a fit of sneezing.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I graciously accepted a few choruses of “bless you” but admit that I did succumb to a wee bit of panic when Michael yelled “Honey, BRAKE!” after my last sneeze.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Did I mention yet that I was towing a rather large trailer at the time?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I can only say thank God that the trailer brakes were not working properly when we left the campsite and that we spent ten minutes resetting them.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We needed them!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I stomped that brake petal like a hairstylist pumping up a hefty guy in her chair!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Who knew those years of hydraulic chair experience would ever come in so handy.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We coasted to a stop with millimetres to spare and all breathed a sigh of relief.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It turns out there was construction up ahead, but the construction signs were on the road before I merged, so I did not see them.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Then the crawl through the zone began.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And I do mean crawl.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Except for those few that had remembered to celebrate Idiot Day.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They zipped past everyone and then expected to cut in line way up ahead.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Man, I hate it when people do that.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So I started straddling the centre line so people couldn’t get past.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Fixed their little red wagon.&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;I then noticed that the semi in front of me had been doing this strange swerving thing ever since I had been in behind him.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He would go all the way to the centre, all the way to the side, all the way to the centre, all the way to the….you get the picture.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I actually laughed for a while, because I thought he was just bored and trying to entertain himself.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Shortly after we got going highway speed again it began to scare me a bit because he wasn’t stopping, so I pulled out and passed.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This is when we realized that we had been following the Grand Marshal of the Idiots Day Parade!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He was writing in his log book while driving a SEMI!!!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;At our next pee break we popped into the camper to survey the damages.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;When we travel, the kids toy chests go into the kitchen and get bungee chorded to the pantry doors.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;For small breaking experiences and little hills this works well.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;However, when trying to avoid hitting semi trucks, it does not.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Bungee chord is really, really stretchy.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;In case you were wondering, it does stretch enough to allow two toy chests of massive proportions to fall over and spill the drawers and contents of said toy chest all over a fairly large kitchen while taking out an 18L water bottle, garbage can and ladies bicycle in the process and still remain bungeed to the pantry.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Impressive!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And again, in case you were wondering, half a cup of sugar, with the right momentum CAN sift right between the cracks in a cabinet and cover a surprising area of said kitchen.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This is when I decided to get in the spirit of Idiot Day and dragged out my vacuum on the side of the road to vacuum up the sugar. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;If you can’t figure out why that was an exercise in idiocy, Happy Idiots Day to you too! &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Before we set out we had decided to stop in Golden for lunch, but on pulling into the town we saw a FasGas so we decided to pull in and fill up.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Or rather, Michael decided and I pulled in.&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;He is all about the Litre Log at the moment.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So I pulled in and immediately started having trailer issues so Michael hopped out to direct me in.&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;This was after waiting the ten minutes for the two diesels in front of us to get filled.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;As I started to pull forward, a guy pulled in to the other side, not close enough that he could actually get to the pump that he needed, but far enough in that I could not move without crunching him.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Let me just say, the temptation was great.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Michael went over and kindly asked him to move so that we could get through, but he refused, twice, because he didn’t want to lose his spot in line.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Really?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Neither did we!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So there was a dude with a Harley in front of him whose wife was on the other side of the pumps.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The guy in the car asked Harley to move because he was just standing there discussing things with his wife, and the wife went up one side and down the other about just waiting and they would be out when they were ready.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So he put on his chaps and he snapped up his jacket, and he fiddled around in his trunk thingy and he put on his Harley bandana, and he unsnapped his jacket and he cleaned his sunglasses and he re-snapped his jacket with bandanna inside and finally was ready to go.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The whole performance took at least fifteen minutes.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Just as we were thinking the guy was about to get on his bike, a van whips around and backs in in front of us.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Everyone layed on their horns, the van squealed out, and the Harley driver left.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;By now we were all a little stressed and decided that we should call and make a reservation at a campsite so that there would be no surprises once we got to Revelstoke.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I called the KOA since we have stayed there before and really liked it.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Their reservation system was down but the guy answering phones assured me that he had hi-lighted me on their map and that I would get a 30 amp full service site.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He didn’t want to write down my name or take my credit card info, but I finally convinced him to at least write my name down.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It did no good.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We got to Revelstoke, wound our way down, down, down into the campsite and went in to register.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They had no record of our call and did not even believe that I had called.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;There was a very long and angry confrontation before we stormed out…and by stormed out I of course mean slowly drove out…of the KOA.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The lady at the Lamplighter had no room but told us to go to the Canada West RV PARK where “he doesn’t answer the phone but almost always has room.”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So we went there and found a sign that said “We’re open but not in the office.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’m out back working so come and find me.”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;You know what’s “out back”?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Mountains.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Mountains and bears.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Well, we looked, but we did not find, and then another camper said that the owner would want us to just find a place and then let him know later.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;There was a huge gong show with tying to back the trailer in between the pines, but we are now settled in, pizza’d up, and climbing into bed.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We also have a pool at this campground, so the kids are very happy.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;I will however be making a recommendation to my Member of Parliament that they issue a travel advisory next year if this whole Idiot Day thing goes national. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7140464275690856223-6147438429165842083?l=thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/feeds/6147438429165842083/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7140464275690856223&amp;postID=6147438429165842083' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/6147438429165842083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/6147438429165842083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/2008/08/day-for-idiocy.html' title='A Day For Idiocy'/><author><name>tinasauers</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06900719338107181965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SM38TqpEFZI/AAAAAAAAABA/Gv3lUytDwC4/S220/Mexico+307.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7140464275690856223.post-2874838449340747623</id><published>2008-08-04T21:06:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-08-15T13:10:37.106-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Drumheller'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bullying'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blue bunnies'/><title type='text'>You can take the girl out of PA....</title><content type='html'>Today we moved again.  We have left Red Deer and our good friends the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Relkov's&lt;/span&gt; behind and our new address is the Hoodoo RV Resort in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Drumheller&lt;/span&gt;.  It was great to see Bob and Ali again and really hard to leave.  We did leave them some blue bunnies to remember us by, so it's all good.  Five years melted away and we caught right back up and had a great time.  About half of the time, Abby and Becca were best friends, and the other half of the time they were youngest sibling six year &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;olds&lt;/span&gt; which translates into screaming banshees.&lt;br /&gt;   Michael and I fought the whole way to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Drumheller&lt;/span&gt; over stupid stuff.  I guess it is bound to happen, but it still sucks.  We are almost at six weeks full time on the road now.  This is our first stop where we are not visiting friends or family and it actually feels like a bit of a vacation.  We went wading in the river today.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Tomorrow&lt;/span&gt; we will explore some more.  We plan to go to the Dinosaur Museum at some point this week.  After here we head back to the Red Deer area to Erskine to visit with the Hall's.  Why the backtracking?  I don't remember.  It made sense at the time, but not so much anymore.  I think I am just bitter about the crappy drive here today.&lt;br /&gt;   Michael is setting up the projector outside for our first open air movie of the year.  Abby has a couple of friends coming to watch with her and hopefully there will be more that show up.  The girls that she is playing with were being super nasty to her a while ago and she came home sobbing.  Silly girls....you don't mess with the mama &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;bear's&lt;/span&gt; baby!  I lost it and stomped over to the playground.  They quickly came over &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;apologizing&lt;/span&gt;.  Michael looked at me &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;quizzically&lt;/span&gt; and said "Did you go over there and open up a can or what?"  I just smiled and said "Well, you can take the girl out of PA, but you can't take the PA out of the girl!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7140464275690856223-2874838449340747623?l=thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/feeds/2874838449340747623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7140464275690856223&amp;postID=2874838449340747623' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/2874838449340747623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/2874838449340747623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/2008/08/you-can-take-girl-out-of-pa.html' title='You can take the girl out of PA....'/><author><name>tinasauers</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06900719338107181965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SM38TqpEFZI/AAAAAAAAABA/Gv3lUytDwC4/S220/Mexico+307.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7140464275690856223.post-8582164431312449647</id><published>2008-07-23T23:15:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-08-15T13:11:42.575-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='best friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='VBS'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='small campsites'/><title type='text'>BFF Y'all!</title><content type='html'>Hey y'all!&lt;br /&gt;  That's right...been &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;hanging&lt;/span&gt; out with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Americans&lt;/span&gt; again.  Did you know that y'all is a singular usage and all y'all is the plural.  I'm not sure about the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;grammatical&lt;/span&gt; ramifications here, but that's the way it is!&lt;br /&gt;  We are in Edmonton in a postage stamp sized lot in an RV park here.  It is INSANELY small.  I actually cried when I looked at it.  Thank God for great neighbours who stepped up to the plate and backed the camper in for us.  We were supposed to have a pull through spot but I was informed when we got here that they do not give pull &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;through's&lt;/span&gt; to rigs as small as ours.  That's right...32 feet is considered small here.  OK.  There were a host of other problems as well.  I am pretty proud of myself for not actually going over the counter.  It was close.&lt;br /&gt;  We are hanging out at Dover Court Baptist Church this week doing a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;VBS&lt;/span&gt;.  Michael is in the Kindergarten class, and I am in crafts.  We are so blessed to be able to work in the areas that we like the best and we did not even plan it that way...we just filled in where there was a need.  I'm sure that God just knew where we needed to be and kept those classes short handed so we could help there.  It is going really well.&lt;br /&gt;  There are actually four other couples that we have been able to visit with that we went to Seminary with:  Tina and Guido; Ralph and Donna; Nathan and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;DinDin&lt;/span&gt;, and James and Betty.  We have not actually seen Betty yet, but we are hoping to on Sunday.  They own an African kiosk in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;WEM&lt;/span&gt; now!  It is great to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;reconnect&lt;/span&gt; with some old friends and look forward to seeing others.  We know for sure that we will be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;seeing&lt;/span&gt; Bob and Ali next week and my heart is leaping for joy over that.  I have really missed Ali.  She is one of those people that really "get" me....sad but true and I have woken up with tears on my face after dreaming of her and missing her several times over the last few years.  We are also hoping to hook up with Jason and Leigh and Kelly and Jodi.&lt;br /&gt;    Speaking of people who "get" me... can't wait for this weekend when we get to be with Ruth and Kevin.  Ruth is one of my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;BFF&lt;/span&gt; from high school and beyond!  We can fight and make up faster than any other relationship I have I think and I love her love her love her!  We have some special shopping to do, too!&lt;br /&gt;  All of this friend talk really reminds me of how much I love all of my girls!  There are so many different friendships and different times in a girls life and I think that each one plays such a significant part.  All the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;BFF's&lt;/span&gt;....sister, mom, high school, PA early years, PA later years, seminary, Slave Lake, hairstylist, church, and others, too!  I can't wait till heaven when all of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;BFF's&lt;/span&gt; in my life can get together and hang out for a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;millennium&lt;/span&gt; or two!  We can do hair, laugh, drink coffee, laugh, cry, laugh.....I really love you and miss you all!  I raise my mug to all my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;BFF's&lt;/span&gt; out there!  You know who you are!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7140464275690856223-8582164431312449647?l=thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/feeds/8582164431312449647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7140464275690856223&amp;postID=8582164431312449647' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/8582164431312449647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/8582164431312449647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/2008/07/bff-yall.html' title='BFF Y&apos;all!'/><author><name>tinasauers</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06900719338107181965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SM38TqpEFZI/AAAAAAAAABA/Gv3lUytDwC4/S220/Mexico+307.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7140464275690856223.post-7308488800298613803</id><published>2008-07-18T11:48:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-08-15T13:09:44.400-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wedding'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Spanx'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='VPL'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='muffin tops'/><title type='text'>Lycra: Modern Day Miracle or Medieval Torture Device</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;I just blogged about 30 minutes ago, but I got dressed and now I need to add to it.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am utterly physically exhausted!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Reason:&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;SPANX.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;What are Spanx you ask?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Well, since you must have been buried under a roc for the last two years or so, I will explain.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Spanx = modern day girdle.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They are a wonderful slimming invention that smash the muffin tops into submission and are pretty much guaranteed to take off a full size.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;However…it is a full workout to get into them.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;I bought the Spanx yesterday for the wedding.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I figured I should break them in today at the rehearsal.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I was totally excited and woke up several times in the night thinking about how nice my new brown dress was going to look with my fancy new undergarment.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They had a bucketful of “try on Spanx” in the store yesterday and it was love at first squeeze.&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;The saleslady raved about how trim and smooth I looked.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I asked her if there were any special laundering instructions and she said to hand wash but not to worry because there would be a booklet of instructions including the proper way to put them on in my package.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;For $45 I should hope so.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;However…when I got them out of the package, there was no handy booklet.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Whatever…”how hard could it be” flitted through my mind.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I thought back to the helpful sales lady….just roll them on, ease them up, and tuck it under your bra strap all around.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;That last part actually made a lot of sense to me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;As a veteran control top hose wearer, I am all to familiar with the feeling akin to a roll top blind taking off uncontrollably down my belly and the blubber spillage that accompanies it, so you don’t have to tell me twice to tuck it into my bra…hats off to the woman that thought of that!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;One of the defining features of the Spanx is that it gets rid of VPL (visible panty line) so I have already figured out that you don’t wear underwear with it.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Fortunately, they&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;build in a trapdoor so that when nature calls without all of the rigmarole associated with putting the crazy things on.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I do feel slightly breezy and a bit like my sister at the moment though.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I just know that I will end up peeing on them, too!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Back to the getting dressed.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I started with my left leg as per normal.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Then I started looking for the right leg.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was pressed up tight against the right.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I managed to pry it away and get my leg up high enough to get it in the hole only to realize that the handy trapdoor is a tricky beast and can look amazingly like a leg hole.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;When I did manage to get my legs heading through the right holes I then had to manage to get the Spanx up my torso.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I quickly deduced that the ones in the store had obviously been tried on by numerous other women before me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They were relatively easy to get on.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;These however were not.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They got stuck.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Really stuck.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;In trying to get my fingers under the un-band I think that I poked right through my tender belly skin.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Eventually, I did get them up partway, but the crotch was still down around my knees and the un-band barely reached my navel.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So I started inching them up. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I managed to get them all the way up but they were all twisted and that was really awkward.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Picture me, in my &lt;st1:metricconverter productid="11 inch"&gt;11 inch&lt;/st1:metricconverter&gt; walkway beside the bed in the camper jumping and twisting and trying to get these Chinese belly puzzles turned around…or maybe don’t.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It wasn’t pretty.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Anyway, by the time I got them tucked into my bra band I could barely breathe and was so sweaty I should have headed back to the shower.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Not gonna happen.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Now that I am in this modern day lycra miracle I’m not sure I’m ever coming out.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Cause lemme tell ya…totally smooth, at least one size smaller, no VPL and worth every grunt and dime!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7140464275690856223-7308488800298613803?l=thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/feeds/7308488800298613803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7140464275690856223&amp;postID=7308488800298613803' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/7308488800298613803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/7308488800298613803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/2008/07/lycra-modern-day-miracle-or-medieval.html' title='Lycra: Modern Day Miracle or Medieval Torture Device'/><author><name>tinasauers</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06900719338107181965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SM38TqpEFZI/AAAAAAAAABA/Gv3lUytDwC4/S220/Mexico+307.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7140464275690856223.post-7521940493331310032</id><published>2008-07-18T09:30:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-07-18T10:00:31.810-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='truck'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='singing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gypsies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='campgrounds'/><title type='text'>Gypsies LOVE Free Internet at Campsites</title><content type='html'>What a treat!  Our Saskatoon campsite has FREE WI-FI!! (What does the FI mean anyways?  Mike McDonald...I know you have the answer for me!)   Unfortunately, this means that Michael is totally involved with his mistress, Ms. Web again, but all in all I am happy.  It is great to be able to connect again.&lt;br /&gt;    Speaking of our new campsite, we have learned a valuable lesson.  Campsites built on major highways should be avoided!  Yikes!  They might as well just put them in between the lanes for all the quiet and solitude they offer.  Those big trucks sound like they are going right through our living room. Trust me when  I say there is not room for them to do that! &lt;br /&gt;    We have spent alot of time with Laura and Paul Bunyan since we got here.  It has been really nice.  It was good to get out of Tisdale.  There is a reason that God has not sent us there to live.  I am pretty sure that we would not be married anymore if we had to live that close to the in-laws.  It is a real strain on a marriage...that much family togetherness!  I had thought about taking the kids to the Forestry Centre today to see the Bengal Tiger, but time is getting away on us and I still need to do some more practicing.  Practicing...that's a whole other ball of wax too!  On Wednesday morning, my sister called me and said that the only time she could get together with the piano player for Cassie and Jerrod's wedding to practice the two songs that she is singing was at the rehearsal on Friday and she works!    Then she says, "I plan to tell her that Gypsies don't work and that you can sing instead."  So, long story short, the Gypsy has graduated from funeral singer to wedding singer.  One song I have no problem with:  Inside Your Heaven by Carrie Underwood, but the other one is "Lost In The Moment" by Big and Rich.  I had never even heard the song before, but am well acquainted now!  I hope that it goes OK.  After the rehearsal this afternoon there is a family vs family ball game.  Should be interesting.  I'm not yet sure if Gypsies play ball or cheer from the sidelines.  One thing I AM sure of though is that Gypsies need to avoid injury!  Laura bought us a tambourine to take on The Amazing Adventure with us.  Now all I need is a long flowy skirt and the hoop earrings.  I guess some bells for my ankles wouldn't hurt either.&lt;br /&gt;    Michael thinks the fuel injectors on the truck are acting up again, so it looks like we need to go and spend some time at SMP.  This is very very frustrating.  It is not easy for me to hold my temper in check at moments like those.  I do not enjoy being Lost In The Moment with mechanics that have already had 18 tries at fixing our truck!&lt;br /&gt;    So...I guess it's time to get to work.  I should probably go and wash the stink off me too.  The showers in this place look really nice.  Especially compared to some that we have seen so far...but that is a whole other blog!  Leave me a message!  Gypsies miss their friends!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7140464275690856223-7521940493331310032?l=thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/feeds/7521940493331310032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7140464275690856223&amp;postID=7521940493331310032' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/7521940493331310032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/7521940493331310032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/2008/07/gypsies-love-free-internet-at-campsites.html' title='Gypsies LOVE Free Internet at Campsites'/><author><name>tinasauers</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06900719338107181965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SM38TqpEFZI/AAAAAAAAABA/Gv3lUytDwC4/S220/Mexico+307.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7140464275690856223.post-1781584123024085799</id><published>2008-07-07T11:21:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-07-07T11:21:38.643-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Tina's Private Internet Cafe</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;How does one injure both the front and back of their heads at the same time?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;I am so glad you asked.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I, of course, have an answer.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;While I was lying in bed this morning, listening to the rain and contemplating life, Michael made some type of smart alecky comment.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Normally, being that I am so even tempered and calm, I would just let it slide, but this morning I felt particularly feisty, and I sprang into action.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I should preface this by saying that about two and a half feet above our bed, there is an overhanging storage compartment, and you will begin to see why “springing” is a poor choice.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Anyways, I sprang, Michael tickled me, I sat up really quickly and cracked the backside of my noggin on the overhang and then the force drove me back down to smash my forehead into one of the corners on his thick German skull.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I don’t remember putting stars on the ceiling of the camper, but I sure saw them a few minutes ago.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The moral of this story is that people should not pick on me before I am out of bed and have some coffee into me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I bet you thought it was something about controlling my temper and not reacting violently.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;You thought wrong.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Michael preached at my parents’ church yesterday.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was good.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He gets better every time.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He is off to speak at the Day Camp again today.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The kids are going with him.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He had planned to rake his mother’s yard today, but the rain is putting a bit of a damper on that.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Get it….damper! &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;We have one week left in Tisdale.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I was telling a group of people yesterday about my experience with the internet café.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I did not realize that it is the place for rendezvousing after committing crime in Tisdale!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Apparently, after the smarty robbed the bank a couple of years ago, that is where he met up with the getaway car.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Had I known that, I would have taken a photo.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;If ever Tisdale comes up with a town tour, I would suggest that it be put on the list; maybe right after the giant honeybee and billboard of Brent Butt’s face.&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;This bank robber was not actually one of the sharpest cookies in the jar.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He waited till he was right in front of the security cameras in the bank and then he put on his mask.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So much for anonymity.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;I think that I am going to create my own internet café now.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;With careful deduction we have cracked the wireless internet password for a place that is close to our campground.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I think that if I go to 7-11, I might be close enough to it to log on.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;(it won’t work from the camper.)&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;Follow my thought process now… sev sells coffee and has a “dining in” section... I may be able to establish a network there… we are super sleuths and have cracked the elusive five character password… INTERNET CAFÉ a la Tina!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Well…that didn’t work, but I am now parked on the side of a street with a takeout coffee and a bagle… so what… my internet café is in my truck!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7140464275690856223-1781584123024085799?l=thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/feeds/1781584123024085799/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7140464275690856223&amp;postID=1781584123024085799' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/1781584123024085799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/1781584123024085799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/2008/07/tinas-private-internet-cafe.html' title='Tina&apos;s Private Internet Cafe'/><author><name>tinasauers</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06900719338107181965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SM38TqpEFZI/AAAAAAAAABA/Gv3lUytDwC4/S220/Mexico+307.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7140464275690856223.post-147401542039812468</id><published>2008-07-04T13:34:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-07-04T13:35:02.442-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The internet cafe.....?</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Here I sit in the internet café in Tisdale.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I did not capitalize that because I use the term very loosely. I came in and asked for a hook-up and a cuppa and he pointed me to a desk facing a wall and said he had no coffee.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Strangely, he did not offer to make any either.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I guess by bottomless cup for $1 is topless as well.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;We are nicely settled in the campground now.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We did our first septic dump yesterday and there were no “RV” moments, so WHEW!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We did switch campsites though.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We kept blowing the breaker because we did not have an rv extension cord and the run of the mill cord does not carry enough juice to power our rig.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Nice use of the camping terminology, eh!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Laura and Paul Bunyan were up here for a couple of days.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He is very huggy.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Grrr.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And to add insult to injury, my loving sister mentioned how much I LOVE to be touched.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Now I seem to have him draped on me fairly often.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Oh well…I still like him.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;We had some drama on our first day here.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;There were some people with their truck in our spot.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The campground lady asked them to move and they went all early teen on her, the air was blue with cursing and they ended up leaving.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They peeled out of the campsite with rocks flying and in a cloud of dust.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They were also “waving” vigorously.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was nice.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I felt all warm and cosy inside.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Well…as much as the wonderful coffee is tempting me to stay, I think that it is time for myself and the tisdale internet café to part ways.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Keep in touch!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7140464275690856223-147401542039812468?l=thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/feeds/147401542039812468/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7140464275690856223&amp;postID=147401542039812468' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/147401542039812468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/147401542039812468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/2008/07/internet-cafe.html' title='The internet cafe.....?'/><author><name>tinasauers</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06900719338107181965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SM38TqpEFZI/AAAAAAAAABA/Gv3lUytDwC4/S220/Mexico+307.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7140464275690856223.post-2809733720330050364</id><published>2008-06-29T23:14:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-06-29T23:14:57.359-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Goodbye Prince Albert!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Today was a very busy day.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am sitting in the camper typing this.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I have no internet connection, which is weird, because I had one yesterday in this same spot.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;As a result, I don’t know if I will get this posted tonight or not.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I suppose that I could run into the house and connect, but I am totally pooped and don’t know if I will be able to summon the energy.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Everything is now out of the house. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;In one hour and sixteen minutes, we will no longer own a home that cannot be connected to a truck and driven away.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We have a list of things a mile long to do in the morning, but thankfully, packing is not one of them!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;After going to the dollar store, city hall, the lawyers, SaskTel and Tim Horton’s, we will be on the road to Tisdale.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The van has still not sold, so I will be driving it and Michael will be driving the truck.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We will both be towing and it has been a long, long time since I have towed anything so I am a little nervous.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Dad will come into Tisdale with us and get us set up for the first time with water and a working toilet.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Maybe tomorrow will be the day that something other than coffee gets cooked in here!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;So, this afternoon we went over to Andrea’s house.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We promised her AGES ago that before we left town, Michael would put baseboards in her salon.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;While Michael and Lanny cut and pasted…I mean nailed, Andrea and I played in the yard with the kids.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;There were two pools and a big sprinkler going and we all had a lot of fun.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Then, as we were sitting around on the deck in walk the Stenske’s…and then the Banman’s and Charity, and Jeri, &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Bethany&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt;, Kate and Sam, and Rosie, and Dave!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They totally put one over on us and had a wonderful going away barbeque for us!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was so nice!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Perfect weather, great friends, wonderful food…all in all a wonderful surprise and a very touching end to our time in &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Prince   Albert&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt;!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Almost makes us want to stay!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Almost…but we are so very excited to start on this new chapter in our life!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Last night Laura and Paul Bunyan came up to visit and say goodbye to the house.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;OK…so it was hello for Ryan since he had never been before, but goodbye for Laura.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She and I transferred our growth chart that we had on the wall onto a 1X2 that I had sanded and stained earlier.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I think that is going to be my new baby shower gift.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I love to have a nice growth chart on the wall, but paper gets ripped, so I always mark right on the wall.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The unfortunate thing is that we end up moving and it gets left behind.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So now, I am going to have one that I can take everywhere.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I made it the same height as a door frame, so it will blend in.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was truly the one thing that was bothering me to leave behind.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;(Paul Bunyan is Laura’s new squeeze.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;His real name is Ryan, but he is a powerhouse, so I have dubbed him Paul Bunyan.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;For some reason, although I HATE shortening people’s names, I occasionally really like a person directly on meeting them and they get a nickname that sticks in my mind.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We really like Ryan!)&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;I think the kids are finally starting to understand that we are leaving here and not coming back.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The boys were getting it before, but it really sunk in for Abby in the last two days.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She cried a lot of the way home tonight because she wasn’t going to get to see Hanna for a long time.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My poor babies.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I wanted so badly to move from my hometown when I was a kid, and now I am scared that my kids will resent being moved around so much.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Maybe the next town will be the last for a good long while.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We’ll see.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Sorry to disappoint on the entertainment end of things tonight.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am feeling rather melancholy and just wanted to chat, not entertain.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The next blog will be fun…I promise!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7140464275690856223-2809733720330050364?l=thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/feeds/2809733720330050364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7140464275690856223&amp;postID=2809733720330050364' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/2809733720330050364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/2809733720330050364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/2008/06/goodbye-prince-albert.html' title='Goodbye Prince Albert!'/><author><name>tinasauers</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06900719338107181965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SM38TqpEFZI/AAAAAAAAABA/Gv3lUytDwC4/S220/Mexico+307.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7140464275690856223.post-6417988226517921670</id><published>2008-06-21T16:42:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-06-21T17:00:09.071-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='new ring'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fire pit'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='giving up pets'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='birthday party'/><title type='text'>Last days, Spaghetti Cat and Defeatist Fire Pits</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Today, we had a birthday party for Matthew.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We met out at the park and had a wiener roast, played games, and just fooled around really.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Matt got some great gifts and had a wonderful time. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I stink like campfire.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;That is what happens when you end up roasting 12 hotdogs all at the same time while the smoke clogs around your head!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We remembered AFTER we started trying to make fire that this particular type of fire pit (the round deep ones) hates to have fire made in it and will violently protest any attempts.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It spewed smoke with great passion and I think maybe even had underground sprinklers imbedded in it to thwart our efforts.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Eventually, we just wadded up a bunch of paper and roasted hot dogs over it.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;As soon as we were done with the roasting portion of the party, the fire caught nicely and was still going along when we left.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We had, of course, not brought any water, so we were unable to douse it.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;None of the boys would pee on it for me, and I learned the hard way last time I tried, that it does not work for girls to pee on fires.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Just kidding, but it does make the story much funnier to say that.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My Grandpa always said you can tell a story a hundred different ways before you ever tell a lie. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;After we got home, I got a call from Bonnie saying that she was just about ready to come and pick up Nessee.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So, we gathered her up, took our last photos, and said our goodbyes and tried to get her into the cat carrier.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I think this was her third ride in it, so picture trying to put cooked spaghetti into a straw and that’s about how it went.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Maybe add squirming to the mix…yup…squirming cooked spaghetti pretty much sums it up.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Oh!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And biting and scratching and hissing.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So think squirming, biting, scratching, hissing cooked spaghetti being pushed through a bendy juice box straw.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was interesting.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It would have been funnier if not for the melting down children.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Matt cried and cried and cried!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He thinks he will have nightmares now because he can’t sleep without &lt;st1:place&gt;Ness&lt;/st1:place&gt;.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Poor baby.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He seems ok now…chewing gum and playing the laptop.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SF2HBtDaNkI/AAAAAAAAAAU/zPmurjpXAbU/s1600-h/101_0009.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SF2HBtDaNkI/AAAAAAAAAAU/zPmurjpXAbU/s400/101_0009.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214472406908417602" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;On the upside, I got my new ring this weekend!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It is sooooo pretty!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They gave it to me along with a three year protection plan.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Michael says I should take a pic and post it.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We will see.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I don’t know if I’m ready to take this blog to the photo level yet.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SF2FnSExR5I/AAAAAAAAAAM/T8Ze_RS9C0k/s1600-h/ring+012.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SF2FnSExR5I/AAAAAAAAAAM/T8Ze_RS9C0k/s400/ring+012.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214470853478139794" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;    Obviously, I have decided that I am ready!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I had my busiest day ever at my salon on Friday, which was my last day.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was Carleton’s grad, so there were a few updo’s, which I love love love doing.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was a good last day.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The whole starting at &lt;st1:time minute="15" hour="7"&gt;7:15 am&lt;/st1:time&gt; thing I could have done without, but it was ok.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was also Michael’s last day, so we took the boys out for supper to Zorba’s.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Abby was at Stacey’s much anticipated slumber party.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This party had been in the works since March or April.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She had a blast.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Our panic inducing news for the week is that we might not be able to get a U-Haul truck.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Michael tells me to stop thinking about it, but that is easier said than done.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He might as well tell me to stop growing hair or producing saliva.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It seems to just come naturally for me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Please pray that we get a truck.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We can do it with trucks and trailers, but what a lot of trips that will have to be.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I REALLY do not want to move the whole house with trailers.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;We are off to the Stenske’s for supper tonight.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;MMM…stir-fry!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7140464275690856223-6417988226517921670?l=thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/feeds/6417988226517921670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7140464275690856223&amp;postID=6417988226517921670' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/6417988226517921670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/6417988226517921670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/2008/06/last-days-spaghetti-cat-and-defeatist.html' title='Last days, Spaghetti Cat and Defeatist Fire Pits'/><author><name>tinasauers</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06900719338107181965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SM38TqpEFZI/AAAAAAAAABA/Gv3lUytDwC4/S220/Mexico+307.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SF2HBtDaNkI/AAAAAAAAAAU/zPmurjpXAbU/s72-c/101_0009.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7140464275690856223.post-6866833667603882477</id><published>2008-06-14T21:35:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-06-14T21:37:46.098-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pocket knives'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jewelry'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ben Moss'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dance'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='camp'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='street fair'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chicken'/><title type='text'>Glitter Part Deux, Pocket Knives, and the Magic of KFC</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;On Thursday night I got a call from Ben Moss saying that my unfixable ring was back in the store and that I could come and pick it up anytime.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I was not terribly excited about this because I was choked that no-one would even try to fix the ring.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Worst case scenario I figured was that it would break and I would be out a ring.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Not really an issue since I can’t wear it the way it is anyway.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;On Friday, Abby and I went into the store to pick it up and they handed me a crushed and mangled tangle of white gold and diamonds.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My immediate response was “What the @$%% happened to my ring?!”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The brainwave behind the counter had the poor sense to say “Oh, it wasn’t like this when you brought it in?”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Since I hadn’t taken it out to the farm and run over it with the harrow bars, no, indeed it wasn’t.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But, since you can’t fix stupid and it is rarely worth the effort to try, I gritted my teeth and said “No, it was fine when I dropped it off.”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She called in the manager and his jaw literally dropped.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He claims to have never seen anything come back from shipping looking like that.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;He pulled out his loupe and started examining the ring and came to the same conclusion that I had already reached:&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;the ring is irreparably compromised.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He said “I just don’t know what we are going to do, but suffice it to say that you are not getting the ring back today.” &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;So I said to him, “You could just trade me for the blue and green one that I was admiring.”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;He said he would make a call.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Later that afternoon, he called me back and informed me that the ring is now mine along with a free sizing and three year protection plan.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;YAY!!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;You remember this is the white gold with marquis blue topaz and peridot stones that I started my love affair with last week?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So now, instead of a beautiful but un-wearable and un-sizable ring that was totally bumming me out, I have a pretty, sparkly, new bit of bling!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Double yay!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;This year’s street fair was great!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It made me sad to be leaving though, when I realized how many people in PA that I actually know now.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;When we first got there it seemed like I couldn’t go two steps without hugging someone.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Same kind of thing happened last night when we went to ask Ray across the street a question and he dragged us inside and we sat and had a great visit with him and Shirley.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Why were we not out visiting with our neighbours years ago?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Dang cable!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I think it is the downfall of society.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;There is something wrong when you spend more time looking at the face of Horatio Cane that you do at that of your neighbours! &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;The boys went with Paula out to Living Waters camp for their GAT (God’s Agents in Training) program windup today.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;For some reason, they were given pocket knives.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Now, I’m not casting any blame here, just mentioning that given MY track record with knives it MAY not have been the best idea to give my kids knives of their own.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Matthew promptly cut up his thumb.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Who’s surprised?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Anyone?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And his concern was not that he had cut himself.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Nope, he just didn’t want anybody to tell ME that he had cut himself because he thought I would take the knife away.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I didn’t.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I was sorely tempted, but he still has it.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He would really like to make some marshmallow roasting sticks, so keep him in your prayers and be ready for an update including stitches!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Abby also had her year end Dance recital today.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Wow!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;When I look at how far she has come in a year, I am totally amazed.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She is tickled pink that she got her first bouquet of flowers too!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Thanks Andrea and family!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We went out with Grandma T and Aunty Barb for supper after.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;KFC, so you know what that means!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I don’t know how Exlax stays in business.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Given t the choice of a chalky chocolate-like substance and the crispy goodness of 11 herbs and spices, I always let the Colonel work his magic!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7140464275690856223-6866833667603882477?l=thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/feeds/6866833667603882477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7140464275690856223&amp;postID=6866833667603882477' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/6866833667603882477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/6866833667603882477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/2008/06/glitter-part-deux-pocket-knives-and.html' title='Glitter Part Deux, Pocket Knives, and the Magic of KFC'/><author><name>tinasauers</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06900719338107181965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SM38TqpEFZI/AAAAAAAAABA/Gv3lUytDwC4/S220/Mexico+307.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7140464275690856223.post-385079266321399744</id><published>2008-06-11T13:01:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-06-11T13:08:18.892-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='diorama'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='saying sorry'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='play ground accidents'/><title type='text'>Dumping Friends and Finally Passing Grade Five (at 32!)</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Apparently, just talking about the Street Fair put me back in klutz mode!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Andrea came out with her oh so cute girlies this morning bearing coffee and other essential gifts. (Thanks so much!)&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;We made plans to go to the Street Fair on Saturday, which prompted me to show her my first ever Facebook album called “Klutz Goes to the Street Fair”, an informative photo documentary of me punching Abby in the face.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;(I won’t say anymore, because it is just way better to view it for yourself!)&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;We hung around the house for awhile trying in vain to figure out how to hang the bunk bed curtains in the camper and then I remembered that I was supposed to have Andrew’s school project at Red Wing by &lt;st1:time minute="0" hour="9"&gt;9am&lt;/st1:time&gt;.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was now &lt;st1:time minute="30" hour="10"&gt;10:30&lt;/st1:time&gt;, so we all piled in the truck and headed out.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We thought we would do the good Mommy thing and let the kids play in the school playground for awhile before lunch. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I will now offer up some of my sage 32 year old wisdom.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;***When trying to load one Mommy and a baby on one end of a teeter totter and a six year old and an almost three year old on the other end, communication between the Mommies is key. ****&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;It also makes sense to load the kiddie end of the apparatus first!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Andrea had her leg looped over the teeter totter and I had my back to her while holding Hanna on the seat and trying to get Abby on as well.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;To me (or Olga, my bush woman alter ego who tends to come out when physical strength is required in any situation) it seemed like a good idea to push my end down to the ground and hold Andrea and Sadie up in the air while Abby climbed on.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;For some reason Andrea was unable to read my mind and she thought that she would try to keep her leg just hooked over while I got Abby on.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So, Olga was pushing down with all of her strength and I hear from behind, “Tina, just wait!” &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;As I turned around I saw Andrea’s fancy dismount from the teeter totter and then her tumbling “ass over tea-kettle” with an impressive twist at the end so that Sadie landed on top and all Andrea hit was the aforementioned body part. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Needless to say, I felt horrible!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;(Sorry again!)&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Now I will use this blog to say the things that I am too chicken to say in person.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Andrea, I am sorry, not only for dumping you on your hiney, but for everything that went on at that unmentionable place where we used to be slaves.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Your friendship in the last year has been invaluable to me and has gotten me through a lot of tough times.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Just in case you don’t realize, you mean a lot to me and I will miss you.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This is the hardest part about moving; saying goodbye to good friends.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I will miss you all (you know who you are) sooooo much, and for those that I am already separated from by the miles, I miss you too!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Sniff. &lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Now let us never speak of this again!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Back to Andrew’s school project now.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;If any of you out there are teachers, maybe you could explain this to me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He has had four dioramas to do this year.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;FOUR!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And my question is WHY!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;You know that the kids aren’t doing them!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Assigning this means that PARENTS are doing four dioramas. At least send us home a reading list at the beginning of the year so that we can read the stinking books and get our ideas together!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It never fails that Andrew comes home and says “Mom…I have a project due tomorrow and I was wondering if you could help me with it?” (READ:&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Mom’s gonna be up late cutting and gluing tonite, so better get out the coffee pot!) So far this year I have glued sand down to make a beach, constructed a forest, burned out the inside of a construction paper tree, and rocked an ocean and a stream.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;(I passed the buck to Michael last night with the castle and went to the movies instead!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;HeeHee!)&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;When I walked into Andrew’s classroom this morning I was truly impressed with what quality dioramas the over 30 set had come up with this time.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;There were some very impressive castles with windows and turrets.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The one that really blew my skirt up was entirely constructed of rice krispy cake and candy!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I guess that when I was a kid my parents were “helping” me with my projects too, so now when my kids do them it’s like I am finally truly passing grade five.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My 1985 dioramas fulfilled Doug and Diane’s grade five requirements, and the 2008 ones now fulfill mine.&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;In my estimation Andrew will get to pass grade five sometime around 2030.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Tina logic!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;By the way, shoeboxes will NOT be a part of the curriculum at “School of the Big Rolling Turd”.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;(Watch the movie RV and think of me if you don’t get that last part!)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7140464275690856223-385079266321399744?l=thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/feeds/385079266321399744/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7140464275690856223&amp;postID=385079266321399744' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/385079266321399744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/385079266321399744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/2008/06/dumping-friends-and-finally-passing.html' title='Dumping Friends and Finally Passing Grade Five (at 32!)'/><author><name>tinasauers</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06900719338107181965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SM38TqpEFZI/AAAAAAAAABA/Gv3lUytDwC4/S220/Mexico+307.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7140464275690856223.post-8933148519775417065</id><published>2008-06-07T09:10:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-06-08T23:24:37.751-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jewellery'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gifts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='return policy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ben Moss'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='diamonds'/><title type='text'>All that Glitters is not Returnable</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Who knew that jewellery could be such a pain in the butt?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I took three of my rings into a jewellery store that shall remain nameless (Ben Moss) the other day.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Ok….maybe not so nameless.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I had been wearing my wedding rings on my right hand because it is bigger and they kept sliding off so I decided that it was time to have them sized.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Also, my white gold right hand rings were too big and since I just got them in September and I love love love them, they needed fixing too!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;REWIND….&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;For my birthday I decided that I really wanted a white gold Right Hand ring.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Since Michael had just started working at Sears and we get a big discount there, I thought I would check them out.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The Cheapy Charley in me loves the reduced section so I headed there first, where I fell in love.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was that instant kind of love where my eyes met multiple diamonds and the rest of the world softened and muted and I could picture me and the rings taking long walks on the beach, laying in bed staring at one another, laughing at the same crazy things…you know.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;What can I say; my Mama raised me to appreciate da bling.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Things escalated and soon there were two of them and they totally ganged up on me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Take us both home…I can be for your ring finger and Mr. Butterflies Leaves, Filigree and Diamonds would inhabit your thumb!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Who am I to argue with talking rings, right?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So I bought them both and told Michael that he had found me the perfect birthday and anniversary gifts but that he didn’t want to wait the two weeks till my b’day or three months till our anniversary but that he was giving them to me as soon as they got back from being sized.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He didn’t realize that he had put that much thought into it, but quickly came to see how wise and right a decision he had made. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Soon however, as in all relationships, things took a turn.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;One of the diamonds on the shank fell out and when I took it to Trent, master of all jewellers, he said it had a crack in the side as well.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Everyone changes, right.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The diamond could not be replaced, but no one else could see it.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Sears flat out refused to do anything about it either.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They would not pay for the break to be repaired because it was a clearance item and clearance apparently means “We washed our hands of it like an unwed pregnant daughter in the 1940’s.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;You kids are on your own!”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My powers of persuasion were wasted on them, they would not be moved!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Then came the weight loss and they languished in my drawer. Alone, but not forgotten.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;At Christmas time I was at Wal-Mart where I was romanced by a pair of crystal encrusted gold hoop earrings.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was Sears all over again…drool on the counter, gazing at the twinkling stones….&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Swipers Wrist or no, out came the card.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I took them home, wrapped them up with shiny paper and ribbons, wrote a beautiful card and took it to Michael to sign.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He has really great taste!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;(He picked me out all by himself!)&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Christmas morning I was basically vibrating in anticipation!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Then, they were resting in my lobes and we have rarely been apart since then.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Until….last week I took them out to clean them and noticed that they looked like gap toothed old hags!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;There were green spots where the Swarkovski’s had inhabited!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;One frantic call to Wal-Mart and my hopes were puddle around my ankles like the gap toothed hags hosiery.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They would do NOTHING about it!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Pierced earrings, 30 day full and 90 day limited return were all terms that were bandied about.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They now are on the shelf under my Gilmore Girls Season 6.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I can’t bear to look at them.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;The dude that was supposed to be sizing my Right Hand ring won’t do it.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;In addition to the one missing diamond and cracked shank, it apparently has a chipped diamond and several loose baguettes.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;(You’ve heard what they say about the French…loose, every one of them.)&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So now it will make the walk of shame back to me where I will take it to Last Chanceville, aka Trent the Amazing and we will see if he can work something out.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Things Tina Has Learned:&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;-jewellery is meant to be bought at Jewellery stores…they stand behind their product&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;-when the jeweller says it costs $30 to size rings, soldered together wedding rings do not count as one ring.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It costs $90 when there are three.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;(or $30 if you burst into tears because they did not tell you that at the get go.)&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;-when dealing with reduced merchandise, find out if it is “as is”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;So now what do I do?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I doubt that there will be time for Trent to get it fixed in the two weeks that we will be in Tisdale, and who knows if he will even be able to?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The white gold butterfly ring is lonely without its friend, and my ears are naked.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;I did share a moment with a white gold ring in Ben Moss the other day though.&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Peridot and blue topaz...diamond shaped stones...stairway style…birthday coming up...on sale...hmmm.  Oh Miicchhaaeell....hhuunneeyyy...all you need to do is sign the card!  Ben Moss giftwraps!&lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7140464275690856223-8933148519775417065?l=thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/feeds/8933148519775417065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7140464275690856223&amp;postID=8933148519775417065' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/8933148519775417065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/8933148519775417065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/2008/06/all-that-gllitters-is-not-returnable.html' title='All that Glitters is not Returnable'/><author><name>tinasauers</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06900719338107181965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SM38TqpEFZI/AAAAAAAAABA/Gv3lUytDwC4/S220/Mexico+307.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7140464275690856223.post-3041918073047936885</id><published>2008-06-05T17:35:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-06-07T09:36:48.320-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='track meet'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='middle child'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Canadian Tire'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='listening'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='travel trailer'/><title type='text'>Mildly Stinky, Middle Child Syndrome and Form 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Canadian Tire did not disappoint!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We got there and they were like “Where’s form two….we need form two.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Can’t do anything without form two!”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Well I lost it!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Not so much on the outside, but inside I sure did.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I “calmly” explained to them that the idiot I had spoken to said that what I had with me was enough and that I had already paid the twenty bucks to get a stupid piece of paper that said it was OK to have the camper on the road for 24 hours.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;(By calmly I mean I raised my voice just a little and refrained from going over the counter.)&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Still my fave place to be.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Maybe not so much.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Anyway, they managed to do the inspection without form two (imagine that) and we just have to take it in when we get it.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I really hope Michael gets on that soon!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Playday today was awesome!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I was able to vamp up my tan and have a lot of fun with some great kids!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I overheard a kid on my team telling his own mom, who was also one of the leaders, that “that lady is a really good mom!”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Totally proud (and unprecedented) moment!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Maybe shouldn’t have kissed the kid, but hey…whatever!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;(JK!)&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And would someone tell me…why are boiled hotdogs so nasty at home but ambrosia when you are hanging with 5-10 year olds?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Being in Matt’s class at lunchtime was really an eye-opener.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Those kids really want someone to listen to them.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I had never met about half of them but once I showed a little interest in their work and their lives, they were all so eager to show me EVERYTHING they had done in the classroom.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Every kid got the pointer and told me which picture was theirs and several read me their stories.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We even sat around and had a good talk about bullying and choosing friends wisely.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was a real incentive to pay more attention to my own kids.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They have a lot to say if I am still and listen.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Poor Matt though….I had sent him to Abby’s class so I could meet him in there and slick him up with sunscreen.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Poor, ignored, forgotten, un-photographed middle child….when I finally remembered, he was just standing around waiting in the kindergarten class….what was that about being a good mom??  oh yeah....we got one first place and one second place ribbon!  I think it was a direct result of the awesome cheering section...ME!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Andrew spent the day at Carleton for the regional track meet.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He didn’t place but was OK with that.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He placed first at his school and this was a day off for him.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was weird for me to go to pick him up and see that he had spent the whole day in a crowd of hundreds of kids.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It would have freaked me out, but he was fine with it.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Probably would have been more fine if he had remembered his water bottle.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I swear, we need to get up about three hours early for school if we want everyone to be reasonably clean, fed and prepared.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Umm….yeah…..I can deal with mildly stinky, slightly hungry and not quite &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Boy Scout approved if it means two more hours of shut eye.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7140464275690856223-3041918073047936885?l=thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/feeds/3041918073047936885/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7140464275690856223&amp;postID=3041918073047936885' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/3041918073047936885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/3041918073047936885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/2008/06/mildly-stinky-middle-child-syndrome-and.html' title='Mildly Stinky, Middle Child Syndrome and Form 2'/><author><name>tinasauers</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06900719338107181965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SM38TqpEFZI/AAAAAAAAABA/Gv3lUytDwC4/S220/Mexico+307.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7140464275690856223.post-2631181985573447400</id><published>2008-06-04T13:29:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-06-07T09:38:18.313-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='insurance'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='play day'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='anxiety'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='travel trailer'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='phone'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='first blog'/><title type='text'>Swiper's Wrist and Heebie Jeebies</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;My first blog…how very exciting.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I have always tried to keep a journal, but never really succeeded.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I have many pretty little books tucked away into drawers in which I have started to record my life, but after a few days, or occasionally a couple of weeks, they seem to fizzle.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Maybe it will be different since it is an online thing this time.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Or not.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Time will tell.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;We officially have 26 days left until we are living in a camper.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I think it will be more like about three weeks though since we want to get the house cleaned out and cleaned up and not really have to rush it.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;             Things are starting to come together.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We just went and took care of the whole phone thing, so we will still have the same cell numbers as always.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am wondering about the wisdom in that though, since I suspect there will be a lot of wrong numbers that way, or people looking for a haircut.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I guess I could book them in.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It may be a long way to travel for a cut, but the quality I’m sure is worth it!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I also forgot to get message manager in the package, and I am thinking we will want that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;                 This afternoon we need to go and get a permit to move the trailer and take it up to my fave place in the world, (my fingers are actually dripping sarcasm as I write that) Canadian Tire and get the out of country inspection thing done.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It is so far the only thing about this move that has not required the swipe of plastic through the machine.&lt;span style=""&gt;  I am starting to develop swiper's wrist, a not so distant cousin to tennis elbow and carple tunnel!  &lt;/span&gt;Oh, scratch that…we have to pay $20 to get the permit, so I guess there really is no such thing as a free lunch.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Michael is trying to get out of taking it in today, but I will prevail!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He does not want me to start packing the camper until after the inspection, and in order to stop the insane panic attacks I think I need to start doing some transferring out there.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;                          &lt;/span&gt;            I am averaging about 2-3 panic attacks per day now and one of the crazy lower back panic attacks about every 2-3 days. I am calling them Back Panic Attacks because they occur when I am super stressed and feel like intense heebie jeebies in my lower back.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This can last up to 10 minutes and I have the creepy crawly wiggles the whole time.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;What fun!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;If only I could add stress induced nosebleeds into the mix I think my life would feel complete.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;                           &lt;/span&gt;            So my list of things to do in the next three weeks is a little long, but still manageable so far.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I need to have a b’day party for the boys.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Andrew’s b’day was in February, so I am a wee bit behind on that.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Also, I am going to Play Day tomorrow and Matt really wants me to go on his field trip next Thursday, so I guess I will be spending a lot of time at school.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And why not?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It’s not as if I’m not practically oozing free time…why not spend 14 usable hours at school?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Please someone give me a good reason why not!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7140464275690856223-2631181985573447400?l=thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/feeds/2631181985573447400/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7140464275690856223&amp;postID=2631181985573447400' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/2631181985573447400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7140464275690856223/posts/default/2631181985573447400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesauersgreatadventure.blogspot.com/2008/06/swipers-wrist-and-heebie-jeebies.html' title='Swiper&apos;s Wrist and Heebie Jeebies'/><author><name>tinasauers</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06900719338107181965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zGrsfVp7gW0/SM38TqpEFZI/AAAAAAAAABA/Gv3lUytDwC4/S220/Mexico+307.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
