tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43861901126417357342024-03-01T23:05:15.375-08:00*...Transparent Mama...*Brigetta Schwaigerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15160073455357316887noreply@blogger.comBlogger534125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4386190112641735734.post-24615194038510400032014-04-24T12:54:00.000-07:002014-04-24T12:54:33.873-07:00My Blog Has Moved!Hi Friends!<br />
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My blog has MOVED over to <a href="http://www.brigettaschwaiger.com/" target="">www.brigetttaschwaiger.com </a>! If you haven't already, I'd love for you to come join me there & subscribe to get updates! <br />
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I'm talking about Influence and Expecting Honor and talking about fighting for all God has for us!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE890Y7Aq-8WkTBhphfM4Z0YlPzpuzgXdVBOsKOuxWlnkoZNcsDxtEoO1N4NXgyVs8GNtedB6-aDsdtYHzuQbnvsp1jM-SWuZzbE59giGPqDaNAS0x3ma0G9PiaOWUpyaDa9dAdYCMg5Aa/s1600/thegiftyouhave.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE890Y7Aq-8WkTBhphfM4Z0YlPzpuzgXdVBOsKOuxWlnkoZNcsDxtEoO1N4NXgyVs8GNtedB6-aDsdtYHzuQbnvsp1jM-SWuZzbE59giGPqDaNAS0x3ma0G9PiaOWUpyaDa9dAdYCMg5Aa/s1600/thegiftyouhave.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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I would be totally excited to have you join me at <a href="http://www.brigettaschwaiger.com/" target="_blank">my new place!</a><br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/146/E62B00EF94B0F1F93B4E2862F26CCE32.png" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 50% transparent; border-color: -moz-use-text-color; border-style: none; border-width: 0px;" /></a> Brigetta Schwaigerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15160073455357316887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4386190112641735734.post-6001212472563825962014-02-20T10:28:00.000-08:002014-02-20T10:28:00.479-08:00Growing UpI'm growing up 40-something style... and that means movement & growth & change.<br />
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In this case, it just means moving over to a different website. I'm hoping you'll take a minute and join me there. My new blog and website home is... <a href="http://www.brigettaschwaiger.com/">www.brigettaschwaiger.com</a>. It would be a total blessing if you'd head over there and sign up at the top right to subscribe to my posts. I also have a new blog post up called Growing Up & Letting Go.<br />
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Thanks so very much! I'm so excited to start something new... <br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/146/E62B00EF94B0F1F93B4E2862F26CCE32.png" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 50% transparent; border-color: -moz-use-text-color; border-style: none; border-width: 0px;" /></a> Brigetta Schwaigerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15160073455357316887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4386190112641735734.post-6415855111358153262014-01-15T08:57:00.002-08:002014-01-15T08:57:41.422-08:00I Don't Want Coffee WhitenerThis past weekend we went to Canada for my son's hockey tournament. {mind you… 5 years ago that sentence would have sounded like a foreign language to this California girl} But now, it just seems normal.<br />
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We were in the sweet town of Fernie in a not so sweet motel for the night. However, with our large crew, we reserved the suite - a two bedroom, kitchen, living room combo. Sounds nice right? Picture a windowless cave with 60s decor. I'm not complaining though... just want you to have the right visual.<br />
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I was standing in the "kitchen" checking out the coffee pot and the little packets surrounding it. And I picked this up—<br />
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Coffee Whitener. I immediately posted an Instagram photo of it with the caption~ Ummm… that's scary! Simply because it obviously wasn't cream - its sole purpose seemed to be to whiten the coffee. Paint would do that trick too. So would white out probably and perhaps chalk.<br />
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I do hold some respect for the product though… for being completely honest about its falsehood.<br />
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I wouldn't have taken the time to write an entire blog post about Coffee Whitener if I hadn't listened to the message on podcast I missed at church this weekend. It was titled Cream & Sugar.<br />
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Cream & Sugar. The land of Milk & Honey. God's promises for us. {You can listen to it <a href="http://freshlifechurch.com/teachings/teaching_page.php?id=1731&tm=1738" target="_blank">here</a> if you like.}<br />
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And it immediately made me think of that packet in the not so sweet motel. The Coffee Whitener. And then it made me think - <i>how often do we settle for Coffee Whitener when we could have Cream?</i><br />
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Because I know God has a plan for my life and yours too. That those plans are filled with milk and honey… cream and sugar… his goodness abundant in our lives.<br />
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But to get to the land of cream and sugar, it takes work. Hard, good choices. It's not like simply opening a package and pouring in the magic whitening powder. It's not instant gratification.<br />
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Rather, the things that bring the reward of the richness of cream to our lives are often a result of the hard choice, the self-sacrificing choice. The uncomfortable {this makes me squirm a little bit because its outside my comfort zone} choice.<br />
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<i>Like choosing to stop and help someone even when you are in a hurry.</i><br />
<i>Or praying for someone in the moment even though you are uncomfortable doing it.</i><br />
<i>Or not picking up that doughnut and taking a walk instead.</i><br />
<i>Or listening rather than talking.</i><br />
<i>Or letting your steps be guided rather than mapping them out in concrete. </i><br />
<i>Or loving instead of judging.</i><br />
<i>Or waiting for what's best rather than settling for what's better. </i><br />
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The world is full of whitener (things that look like what we want, but truly are not meant for us).<br />
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And the thing is… when we accept and ingest the false, fake, ridiculous substitutes... guess what? We totally don't get to have the cream! We give it up for nothing. We give it up for something we think is going to have the same effect (whiten our coffee like cream), but it isn't even close to the richness of what God had planned for us.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikhKb34VUXu_4YOti-9HgyL2S6ArIe4XmTWFN1giGYQuubElssumb8hmvr0D5p_D-gGaXCSjqcrEfNHhsP1elhceZW2gc6bbx6AZFnX7VucBYwxwEG1YIH5UDXNsMBpUNkkUEFI2m6vGMI/s1600/401px-Cream_Drop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikhKb34VUXu_4YOti-9HgyL2S6ArIe4XmTWFN1giGYQuubElssumb8hmvr0D5p_D-gGaXCSjqcrEfNHhsP1elhceZW2gc6bbx6AZFnX7VucBYwxwEG1YIH5UDXNsMBpUNkkUEFI2m6vGMI/s320/401px-Cream_Drop.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>
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So my hope for you and me is that we would see the Coffee Whiteners of the world for what they are, walk past them and hold out for the cream {the rich goodness of what God truly has for us}.<br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/146/E62B00EF94B0F1F93B4E2862F26CCE32.png" style="background-position: 0% 50%; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px;" /></a> Brigetta Schwaigerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15160073455357316887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4386190112641735734.post-41189531870826226752014-01-09T09:13:00.001-08:002014-01-09T09:15:32.003-08:00Living At A Leisurely PaceThis last year was full of rushed mornings, days of running a household and a business, and afternoons that seemed to roar straight until bed time. And by the time summer gloriously burst our of the dreary muddy Montana spring {a time when I should have been rejoicing in the warmth of sunshine}, I was broken down and weary.<br />
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It is in my make-up to work for excellence and at that time, not much was being done with excellence. My home was a disaster, my teenager was rolling over me in my weakened state and for the first time in our family life, I was not enjoying anything.<br />
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The last few years have been spent building a business {that I love} and it has taken work. Hard work. But, my family wasn't used to such a thing! They weren't used to hours of my time being spent NOT. ON. THEM.<br />
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And I wasn't used to it either. It made me stressed. It made me frustrated that nobody else did the laundry (not true- HH did do laundry) and nobody else cared if the house was a mess (also not true, but nobody cared as much as I did) and the refrigerator was empty again (even thought I'd just filled it two days ago).<br />
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I was not living with joy. My reserves were on empty. I was focused on how hard everything seemed rather than how blessed I was to have everything I was trying to manage. <br />
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And it was because my pace was frantic in my desire to GET IT ALL DONE!<br />
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Then, one morning {after a sobbing fit with HH on the dock by the lake we'd just jumped into at 10pm to cool off} I read something in Sarah Young's <i>Jesus Calling</i>.<br />
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It said - l<i>ive life at a leisurely pace.</i><br />
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I was like- What? How? Is that even possible?<br />
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It then said something like - <i>God will allow time for what's needed.</i><br />
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Seriously? He will? Well, shoot. That's a new concept.<br />
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So, I chose to believe it. I chose to slow down and take moments when they came. To trust that what was needed would get done and the rest could wait until tomorrow or perhaps get taken care of in some other way that didn't even involve my participation. I unclenched my hands and opened my arms.<br />
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And now, life is still busy, but not overwhelming. It's full, but filling too.<br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/146/E62B00EF94B0F1F93B4E2862F26CCE32.png" style="background-position: 0% 50%; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px;" /></a>Brigetta Schwaigerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15160073455357316887noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4386190112641735734.post-17248106403566665952014-01-08T13:50:00.000-08:002014-01-08T13:50:26.519-08:00A Quiet BeginningThere is this whispering, this quiet inkling to find the space to write here again. I'm not certain yet if it's real, if it's something I can carve out the time to do yet. But, it feels right. It feels like there is something that needs to be said. So… here is this - a very quiet beginning.<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/146/E62B00EF94B0F1F93B4E2862F26CCE32.png" style="background: 0% 50%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; moz-background-origin: -moz-initial;" /></a> Brigetta Schwaigerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15160073455357316887noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4386190112641735734.post-19503076477852004282012-08-02T09:10:00.000-07:002012-08-02T09:10:10.332-07:00The Season of Neglect... or not!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We have been traveling. </div>
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Traveling around the Northwest for All Star baseball season. </div>
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Along the way, we've have family (like Hottie Husband's cute mom) </div>
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and my adorable niece and her siblings and mama</div>
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come to watch this boy do his thing behind the plate.</div>
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I'm really proud of him and so are they. </div>
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For a third consecutive year, he and his team won the State Championship.</div>
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And in small town Montana style, they were given a parade to celebrate the 3-peat. </div>
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Note that this photo was taken by me running down the street with a zoom lens from the Farmer's Market where I had just set up baked goods for a fundraiser for these boys. </div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(winning State meant they were going to Regionals in Idaho)</span></div>
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The firetruck turned one street sooner than I thought it would and I missed it. </div>
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But, my zoom lens didn't.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Thank you zoom lens, but I'd really have preferred to see it up close. </span></div>
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In the midst of this, we did find time to slip and slide</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuG8d1HAYgV5BbzS7Kpdvd-nN4VlLKMS83MYUyHJ16vukDQNgXQaknjhqslhRZbIJzV1T9a_nWJHeUTkiI8dzwWfiP90kY4_qe4NUP228XR2XIC-Bx2dAfoRCRluxC4GGO-AXGnbY6G_G_/s1600/IMG_3497+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuG8d1HAYgV5BbzS7Kpdvd-nN4VlLKMS83MYUyHJ16vukDQNgXQaknjhqslhRZbIJzV1T9a_nWJHeUTkiI8dzwWfiP90kY4_qe4NUP228XR2XIC-Bx2dAfoRCRluxC4GGO-AXGnbY6G_G_/s1600/IMG_3497+copy.jpg" /></a></div>
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and enjoy a fun-packed three day visit with my sister and her kids.</div>
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While they were here, they mountain biked with HH, wake boarded and surfed on the lake, visited Glacier Park, went fishing and jumped into the river from a really high bridge. </div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">I'm sure you can guess my favorite part of this photo. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz28l2MjNZJtBqxFL4dRWHpYChobMDXI-zKH-F9m7eZZw_6UdU2_iJqdy7bLNJxDRYSJqxTfRi3zHgvemHNOPuxH5EMKjCWDjYXOXxRBEgvN2ghLpx_wqaGMjW2OAr_VdOM9xO-Ef_AD15/s1600/IMG_3541+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz28l2MjNZJtBqxFL4dRWHpYChobMDXI-zKH-F9m7eZZw_6UdU2_iJqdy7bLNJxDRYSJqxTfRi3zHgvemHNOPuxH5EMKjCWDjYXOXxRBEgvN2ghLpx_wqaGMjW2OAr_VdOM9xO-Ef_AD15/s1600/IMG_3541+copy.jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkXjYnbfEA_WcDEuwGuIxs8TbEzwDt6KLNLrKBjoRCFBPA0nIno1HY1wjE9atf2GWn6MlaaVC43LWFvWA_BcEVk3qo90B18uxykpBPaR_zsXAmPzD4cwQYCQx1X_gGLKuiOgccF-KrX3Yv/s1600/IMG_3697.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkXjYnbfEA_WcDEuwGuIxs8TbEzwDt6KLNLrKBjoRCFBPA0nIno1HY1wjE9atf2GWn6MlaaVC43LWFvWA_BcEVk3qo90B18uxykpBPaR_zsXAmPzD4cwQYCQx1X_gGLKuiOgccF-KrX3Yv/s1600/IMG_3697.JPG" /></a></div>
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When we finally returned from Boise with a 2-2 record at Regionals, I looked around and realized everything I'd neglected over the past 6 weeks- my hair with terrible roots, my toenails with chipped paint, my garden with weeds galore, my dog who has gotten zero attention, my postless blog, my dusty house, my workoutless muscles. </div>
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And I thought- <i>that was a season of neglect.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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But, then I started looking through photos of the last few weeks and discovered that I'd just made a trade.</div>
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I traded my hair and toenails and house and garden and blog and toned muscles. </div>
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And it was a good trade.</div>
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Because I'd traded them for glory moments and rare time with family and conversations with friends on walks and in hotel lobbies and on the grass of a baseball field.</div>
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I'd traded them for times I know are precious and that I'll never get back.</div>
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And now a few days home, the garden is perking up, the laundry is almost done, the house is still dusty and I'm off to get my hair done. </div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/146/E62B00EF94B0F1F93B4E2862F26CCE32.png" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: 0% 50%; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-color: initial; border-bottom-style: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-color: initial; border-left-style: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-color: initial; border-right-style: initial; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-color: initial; border-top-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px;" /></a></div>Brigetta Schwaigerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15160073455357316887noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4386190112641735734.post-15760481713997356422012-06-26T11:40:00.000-07:002012-06-26T11:40:45.628-07:00Winning Sure Is Fun!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
We are smack in the middle of ALL STAR Baseball Season. </div>
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This means Friday through Sundays with up to 12 games to watch between Luke and Jack's teams.</div>
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And HH and I love it. </div>
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It is probably one of our favorite times of the year. </div>
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He is in his element coaching and I simply try to limit the amount of grey added to my head during those stressful close games. </div>
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This weekend Luke's team won a tournament. </div>
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This is just a little peek into how we celebrated Montana Style, farmer tans included. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb-HdJJgkGyc6G320KhxAWK9OBNO4expBjcPlBvn_qsO8ZzjDMcJrmBwtrPG3zAYppIwR_BvUDqjzjbVSQHD1Mne6T5qxYjgIhk37vxGBKJMnxfmVyu4hTR7fsUc-d9LNEqHxUfNp7Ev4/s1600/IMG_2964.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb-HdJJgkGyc6G320KhxAWK9OBNO4expBjcPlBvn_qsO8ZzjDMcJrmBwtrPG3zAYppIwR_BvUDqjzjbVSQHD1Mne6T5qxYjgIhk37vxGBKJMnxfmVyu4hTR7fsUc-d9LNEqHxUfNp7Ev4/s640/IMG_2964.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Whitefish 12U All Star Team</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1A-P7OG1RlTlfUghlr_IyVMeXENqzVMokkrWV4tC9UoIGNNPAuVOkh9WZM89cV4TlQdFOw9z3T8PIiwnNTw2oBh3g4pQa2EtTH64onrDkmp4DJOLBxrFCYSpbHzFkqJYpDBkBnFI4k4I/s1600/IMG_2971.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1A-P7OG1RlTlfUghlr_IyVMeXENqzVMokkrWV4tC9UoIGNNPAuVOkh9WZM89cV4TlQdFOw9z3T8PIiwnNTw2oBh3g4pQa2EtTH64onrDkmp4DJOLBxrFCYSpbHzFkqJYpDBkBnFI4k4I/s1600/IMG_2971.JPG" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5wu6HYtmA1iYy7efEk34zlOIVV2TD3qUEeNZfQVgxKzgqWoScNR6ZiQmC3CtF-5Ht5Uuv60maw3MHr43LtvlqDiUsnwDN2RYaqWypK34uMF-BLOdjBLeAW9Q8RtllyrKdPYWGryw4SYE/s1600/IMG_2972.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5wu6HYtmA1iYy7efEk34zlOIVV2TD3qUEeNZfQVgxKzgqWoScNR6ZiQmC3CtF-5Ht5Uuv60maw3MHr43LtvlqDiUsnwDN2RYaqWypK34uMF-BLOdjBLeAW9Q8RtllyrKdPYWGryw4SYE/s640/IMG_2972.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grandma was a trooper and went to every single game. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-WXsw0e8aku06Q-4WQ6xUyzmdsEyf9-V3FqEFXDnJZovA6ZnLY5WhPkgDVkw1bL5iwL6E7reFPOZ7yhp9MeujzydJKjGV3ezAJnMwm6kmTRRVssQmg8o2HsgvFWbu3k6sME82NlkTLnk/s1600/IMG_2976.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-WXsw0e8aku06Q-4WQ6xUyzmdsEyf9-V3FqEFXDnJZovA6ZnLY5WhPkgDVkw1bL5iwL6E7reFPOZ7yhp9MeujzydJKjGV3ezAJnMwm6kmTRRVssQmg8o2HsgvFWbu3k6sME82NlkTLnk/s640/IMG_2976.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rare photo of me taken by Grandma. Don't know what I am doing with my arm.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYoADWir-WOrvQZOjj_cJ897gOSGWNigpAf4FiDVBVDUxppI3fvl-2eXcbOQBNXHe_rMOCjw9y6TdbFdX9MAqF0QCPiIASt4a__hBfAeEcuAwMzoWVsYxkeI0xW0aOj6pU3zljHKZyefU/s1600/IMG_2981+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYoADWir-WOrvQZOjj_cJ897gOSGWNigpAf4FiDVBVDUxppI3fvl-2eXcbOQBNXHe_rMOCjw9y6TdbFdX9MAqF0QCPiIASt4a__hBfAeEcuAwMzoWVsYxkeI0xW0aOj6pU3zljHKZyefU/s640/IMG_2981+copy.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And Toots joining the team festivities.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinJQ1H-NqPCQP0-bjSiuc4RzrOK5BisvNrjks32usLWQlcGld44oxr2ByR0g_H6Xb8nE0QAKe72V4cIYeHMvEgNYPTbOT5l_sTzyb9PkgTBMsFHmaARLRy-J3iaGJ7IXvDlGnhQ_l_t7c/s1600/IMG_2983+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinJQ1H-NqPCQP0-bjSiuc4RzrOK5BisvNrjks32usLWQlcGld44oxr2ByR0g_H6Xb8nE0QAKe72V4cIYeHMvEgNYPTbOT5l_sTzyb9PkgTBMsFHmaARLRy-J3iaGJ7IXvDlGnhQ_l_t7c/s1600/IMG_2983+copy.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When this team wins, they jump in the nearest river. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn6KixOIL177Mq1Gs-n2bY_98axQa3AaHtqDVvhZ4CmdrMy4S9l0atIOOOnaTYlGGYuiBcbb9bei2jo5ToUTjywsQekQ9nwKunEl9XJo12zZ4sx6mgSi-JnPzEnzQqNHeBn7Nb_foMYl8/s1600/IMG_3011+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn6KixOIL177Mq1Gs-n2bY_98axQa3AaHtqDVvhZ4CmdrMy4S9l0atIOOOnaTYlGGYuiBcbb9bei2jo5ToUTjywsQekQ9nwKunEl9XJo12zZ4sx6mgSi-JnPzEnzQqNHeBn7Nb_foMYl8/s400/IMG_3011+copy.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't mention his farmer/baseball coach tan!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6qowSsvebT6jiBsy0IWWnq_4mVGaIDw5PJlQwPEJtRsJoiYWjriH87l36cHLpK_3S6w0vyqOtOVznBgwHeE6ngLjJCpBAFlJ4_SPF4hi2gcBzls0JyH2AA6Tdt1ajcGu-MOkitkESZiQ/s1600/IMG_3016+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6qowSsvebT6jiBsy0IWWnq_4mVGaIDw5PJlQwPEJtRsJoiYWjriH87l36cHLpK_3S6w0vyqOtOVznBgwHeE6ngLjJCpBAFlJ4_SPF4hi2gcBzls0JyH2AA6Tdt1ajcGu-MOkitkESZiQ/s1600/IMG_3016+copy.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love that these coaches jump with their boys.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWjIlVyk28wzVIiFlKHqkBI1wMBsioZ2GW6eY9_aoWV5iZXFemg9sryFq58Kt6AACnfTvuvFjUxec9Nf3G9DOQiX3b0txgCerxJAJzSHdBRxfZTRaotjLRGYLLohUzO2ZDer39vz_KfZs/s1600/IMG_3035+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWjIlVyk28wzVIiFlKHqkBI1wMBsioZ2GW6eY9_aoWV5iZXFemg9sryFq58Kt6AACnfTvuvFjUxec9Nf3G9DOQiX3b0txgCerxJAJzSHdBRxfZTRaotjLRGYLLohUzO2ZDer39vz_KfZs/s640/IMG_3035+copy.jpg" width="425" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjitdw-6hxbcf2pxxsa5ftaUSWsK07ozs0Bn68dyo7ASGFz2uCOHppDRrkO7oUxshA7zgZYE-06JaJVvnL4KhwcRYiNmkMuOMoVzMA694W_msXuCk_oV1z-QMh1Kdtv5gDBdl0wJEw0E84/s1600/IMG_3039+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjitdw-6hxbcf2pxxsa5ftaUSWsK07ozs0Bn68dyo7ASGFz2uCOHppDRrkO7oUxshA7zgZYE-06JaJVvnL4KhwcRYiNmkMuOMoVzMA694W_msXuCk_oV1z-QMh1Kdtv5gDBdl0wJEw0E84/s640/IMG_3039+copy.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgujRiHV1n2ik5efSmVf-P-e2z_9mI78dmFVI9zD4jwyue-ukZPhjK7S38EZ0bChoSAOxkhawElJspSpeHekKi_iSlqYt3qL16L8nsnGEJym49kyU8LW3sRARcbFQ2V2G5Bab2Gztkqunk/s1600/IMG_3042+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgujRiHV1n2ik5efSmVf-P-e2z_9mI78dmFVI9zD4jwyue-ukZPhjK7S38EZ0bChoSAOxkhawElJspSpeHekKi_iSlqYt3qL16L8nsnGEJym49kyU8LW3sRARcbFQ2V2G5Bab2Gztkqunk/s640/IMG_3042+copy.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Summer fun. Love these kids. </td></tr>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/146/E62B00EF94B0F1F93B4E2862F26CCE32.png" style="background: 0% 50%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; moz-background-origin: -moz-initial;" /></a>Brigetta Schwaigerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15160073455357316887noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4386190112641735734.post-81375217633366549512012-06-16T13:29:00.000-07:002012-06-16T13:29:19.297-07:00A little something about the ... F bomb!I am not a cusser. Not a girl who uses the sh-word or the a-word or the b-word or the f-word. I never have been. In fact, I was not even allowed to say "shut-up" as a kid and now my kids aren't either.<br />
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Hottie Husband <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">(who at this moment is jump roping in the back yard, doing double unders, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><b>without</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"> a jump rope and making me giggle)</span> is not a cusser either. We've been together since high school and even back then, we just didn't let that kind of lingo fly much. That isn't to say that we NEVER cuss. There are certain things that provoke it— snow skiing and almost eating it, bad drivers, near crashes, police lights flashing in the rear view mirror, dog poop on the floor, sudden pain.<br />
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One of my favorite stories is about one of my best friends who, holding her Bible in her hand, stepped into the pedicure water at a salon and then shouted F*** at the top of her lungs. The water was scalding hot and then so was her face. Sometimes it just can't be contained.<br />
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I just took my two youngest boys on a road trip to South Dakota for my cousin's wedding and on the first leg of the drive, my seven year old said, "Mom, does the F word rhyme with duck?"<br />
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Me- <i>Yes, who told you that?</i><br />
Him- <i>Such and such at school.</i><br />
Me- <i>Well, just don't ever say it!</i><br />
Him- <i>Yeah, well I just asked Luke and Jack if the F word was F***!</i><br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">This is one of those mommy moments where I nearly come out of my skin and then say really stupid stuff.</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></i><br />
Me- <i>I JUST TOLD YOU NEVER TO SAY IT. If you ever say it again, I will wash your mouth out. ( I realize on the road there is no soap or sink in the car I then get really ridiculous.) I will pull over to the side of the road and make you eat grass!</i><br />
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It is quiet now for a moment, then he says, "Mom, is grass soap?" I stifle a laugh, "No dear. Grass is not soap."<br />
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I say all this because in my novel, there is a girl, a character I love, who uses the b-word and the sh-word and the f-word and I recently had a reviewer write that she didn't appreciate the F-bombs in the book. Honestly, they were not easy to write. And it was really uncomfortable for me to think of my dad reading the words I'd written aloud to my step-mom.<br />
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But, I know this girl in my book and I know about seven like her in real life. Girls with hard lives. And guess what? Those girls don't filter and they let the f-word fly. So, for my character Clara, for this good-hearted broken girl who I "get", I let her use the f-word. I think I would have done her an injustice had I not.<br />
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Disclaimer- If you are my friend and you use the f-word, I don't really care so please don't feel the need to filter. If you are my child, not so much.<br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/146/E62B00EF94B0F1F93B4E2862F26CCE32.png" style="background: 0% 50%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; moz-background-origin: -moz-initial;" /></a>Brigetta Schwaigerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15160073455357316887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4386190112641735734.post-4063543549945343422012-06-05T08:46:00.000-07:002012-06-05T08:46:13.858-07:00Cruisin...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I am a cruiser now.</div>
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I'm cruisalicious.</div>
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Really, I don't know why I just said that except that cruising around town on my new cruiser bike is just</div>
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So. Much. Fun.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhechvwX5GddomK4NibpKqYp9uBlqHASEadCqrmeN2yxxHE-Ek0y419N9NYAT0esqmAZxmPdlDy-zQxsLr6jGhmgfo3fQ8lCG5_cEH48s-Oo3d0lRUXB76MByHHbcs3cnYA2UY8GrEWbII/s1600/IMG_2662+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhechvwX5GddomK4NibpKqYp9uBlqHASEadCqrmeN2yxxHE-Ek0y419N9NYAT0esqmAZxmPdlDy-zQxsLr6jGhmgfo3fQ8lCG5_cEH48s-Oo3d0lRUXB76MByHHbcs3cnYA2UY8GrEWbII/s640/IMG_2662+copy.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Years ago, when we camped a lot, I had another cruiser bike (not quite as lovely as this one) but it met its demise on a little trip we took in our motor home one summer to the town of Whitefish, Montana. </div>
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HH was trying to park that gigantic motor home downtown so we could try out the local restaurants and backed right into a pole and squished my former cruiser.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">I pass that pole almost daily now. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiNFtshMnv4K6mTCNyNbS1_rlmUlnjiWh289xpRII5yXGYgTtihHnbndK2gBWzMIGbSCj9GNMYJOz4w4OJ0QtyFiS2-F7oxeCNtBKPlKYRMTMEPtj8GjBMS2aQPJpAPl_9vE0uJ0C0b24/s1600/IMG_2663+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiNFtshMnv4K6mTCNyNbS1_rlmUlnjiWh289xpRII5yXGYgTtihHnbndK2gBWzMIGbSCj9GNMYJOz4w4OJ0QtyFiS2-F7oxeCNtBKPlKYRMTMEPtj8GjBMS2aQPJpAPl_9vE0uJ0C0b24/s640/IMG_2663+copy.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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For a while, I inherited HH's old mountain bike though it was never used for actual mountain biking. </div>
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So, when for Mother's Day, I was surprised </div>
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(<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">sort of. Luke was lobbying to get me a new bike so he could inherit dad's old mountain bike and Jack could have his bike since Jack's bike was broken. It's all very political really.)</span></div>
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with my new green cruiser, I was totally stoked.</div>
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After all, we are townies now and when the snow is gone, you can get anywhere in town on a bike -</div>
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school, grocery store, gym, Farmer's Market, Library, a night out in town, my best buddies houses. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2AeykSX6nPrEnFhkNzyeLptQ61ra3Gs8TnY0Pa9HOcDJ3FK0O6G92dZEGoQ40wMWsE8fxWXbPSz9UqKohQeogLyQm6S8vtecjccjF2LADYWYdlsMXE5fsuJ4uitvWy7b_eV4PeZ4dCK4/s1600/IMG_2665+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2AeykSX6nPrEnFhkNzyeLptQ61ra3Gs8TnY0Pa9HOcDJ3FK0O6G92dZEGoQ40wMWsE8fxWXbPSz9UqKohQeogLyQm6S8vtecjccjF2LADYWYdlsMXE5fsuJ4uitvWy7b_eV4PeZ4dCK4/s640/IMG_2665+copy.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Yesterday, I cruised (pulling Little Bear in the trailer) to school with Toots. Then, I cruised over to the high school track to watch the 5th grade track meet. Then, I cruised over the the elementary school again to talk to a teacher. I cruised back home for a while and then back for pick up.</div>
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I'm saving gas and I'm seeing flowers bloom and one of my favorite parts of the morning is cruising under the branches of a lilac tree. </div>
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I lift my face and breathe in. </div>
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Now I just need a little bell and a basket. </div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/146/E62B00EF94B0F1F93B4E2862F26CCE32.png" style="background: 0% 50%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; moz-background-origin: -moz-initial;" /></a>Brigetta Schwaigerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15160073455357316887noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4386190112641735734.post-78452569253706915422012-05-25T12:08:00.000-07:002012-05-25T12:08:32.550-07:00Not Built For Glory<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
People were not built for glory.</div>
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I'm certain of it. </div>
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This is why we see elevated pastors of churches and powerful politicians brought low by scandal, </div>
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and celebrities with fame and money still struggling with substance abuse and relationship problems. This is why, especially the young who gain glory early in life, often end up in despair. </div>
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Humans were simply not built for glory.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWePJNPgIZZyY7oz86N8JUwJ50nmE-pdgyjLLtPcR-yf8ukn8wd5wbJO7uCGmFzgMnFXS4sjeyFH2KAvXIQaEmm9dRAqeAdcGXUoa_oY-j-6PGs1SmjTXLbpW97vO3-srj7z1qDwh1Gaw/s1600/IMG_2545+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWePJNPgIZZyY7oz86N8JUwJ50nmE-pdgyjLLtPcR-yf8ukn8wd5wbJO7uCGmFzgMnFXS4sjeyFH2KAvXIQaEmm9dRAqeAdcGXUoa_oY-j-6PGs1SmjTXLbpW97vO3-srj7z1qDwh1Gaw/s640/IMG_2545+copy.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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That is not to say that moments of glory are not meant for us. </div>
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I love the moments of the glorious walk off grand slam, the hero who saves a life, </div>
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the underdog who finishes first. </div>
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Those are the stuff of life. </div>
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But, if in those moments, people buy in to the glory, take it all in, begin to think they are in fact- glorious- that is when the moment turns sour and ugly. </div>
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We have a friend who races on bikes, skis, (you name it) and he wins consistently. But, all his competitors say, "If you have to lose to someone, you want it to be him because he wins so graciously."</div>
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I am fairly certain they see this in him because he does not give the glory to himself.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7SIGKNvK7ZL8rPfarGPRBkSwHpgmcjJrKfdqm51M7KZnLCXudmw3TBmSMW3zVRgNmWZ6ClCCf0dV_dY0lgm1chJ0Dvviad_gd_rPCctf9KChp9HnlePLkz4snwYhEP5zV1bBFfuSkSRQ/s1600/IMG_2548+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7SIGKNvK7ZL8rPfarGPRBkSwHpgmcjJrKfdqm51M7KZnLCXudmw3TBmSMW3zVRgNmWZ6ClCCf0dV_dY0lgm1chJ0Dvviad_gd_rPCctf9KChp9HnlePLkz4snwYhEP5zV1bBFfuSkSRQ/s640/IMG_2548+copy.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Publishing my novel has been a lovely and glorious experience this month. </div>
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I've had friends and family from every corner of the history of my life, buy it, read it and write notes of encouragement to me. </div>
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They are using words like "brilliant, wonderful, amazing, incredible."</div>
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Those are glory words. </div>
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And each time I receive them with an overwhelming gratefulness. </div>
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I mean, seriously, sometimes I cry and my heart feels like it might burst with joy. </div>
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Receiving those kinds of compliments about my writing is huge to me.</div>
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But, I'm careful because even in this tiny newborn moment of "success" <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">so far, </span>I know I'm not built for glory. That this life, in fact, is not about me or my accomplishments.</div>
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It's about serving and loving others.</div>
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To stay there, in that mind frame, in that perspective, it doesn't take "me time", it takes "knee time."</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFsRDKXA1xMAIIsd8W4HLEr30VRYvHYlcGpaUU7ati0WN37HYdJNQ2Z4RfY-c_HXjxJD7GVIjfvt5c6AM-xldRWsZOC7uH-xOnVpbHK9cnrEf8SSwAPB-9wgE0vpcdoOPb7ZKYXIWWc10/s1600/IMG_2555+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFsRDKXA1xMAIIsd8W4HLEr30VRYvHYlcGpaUU7ati0WN37HYdJNQ2Z4RfY-c_HXjxJD7GVIjfvt5c6AM-xldRWsZOC7uH-xOnVpbHK9cnrEf8SSwAPB-9wgE0vpcdoOPb7ZKYXIWWc10/s640/IMG_2555+copy.jpg" width="460" /></a></div>
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We are just works in progress and it is in the valleys and on the mountaintops where our character is honed and refined. </div>
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Often, it is harder on the mountaintops to find a place to drop to your knees.</div>
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In the valleys, any old place will do. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwvv9tFyGL6tepAHBtDEZJt26iyssz02GH7Mglqjl5euXKaToJBuTOeSgHgdqfUZaAoiuU1umULevVSOCL7WFaZbHe4UJVQf3yIUdG4pwk13krQjTYcwsBaquMjVDgyRtVQms3AHYk8Po/s1600/IMG_2557+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwvv9tFyGL6tepAHBtDEZJt26iyssz02GH7Mglqjl5euXKaToJBuTOeSgHgdqfUZaAoiuU1umULevVSOCL7WFaZbHe4UJVQf3yIUdG4pwk13krQjTYcwsBaquMjVDgyRtVQms3AHYk8Po/s400/IMG_2557+copy.jpg" width="298" /></a></div>
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And this is what I try to teach my boys (who LOVE glory)-</div>
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that growth beats glory every time.</div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/146/E62B00EF94B0F1F93B4E2862F26CCE32.png" style="background: 0% 50%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; moz-background-origin: -moz-initial;" /></a>Brigetta Schwaigerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15160073455357316887noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4386190112641735734.post-10674374319813482952012-05-19T11:40:00.000-07:002012-05-20T19:03:29.229-07:00Being an Indie.. Author that is!I just found out that I have a new name, category, label. I am an Indie Author. Doesn't that sound sort of cool? It sounds cooler than self-published anyway! So, I'm going to claim it and picture myself in the midst of indie film makers who do it all their way and wear Fedoras and have a just enough facial hair <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(scratch that- I don't want the facial hair)</span> to look artsy and hip.<br />
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In the past, there's been a stigma attached to self-publishing. It's fading with the popularity of ebook readers and the success of J.A. Konrath, Amanda Hocking, Karen McQuestion, and others. But, it's still there amongst the die-hards in the publishing industry. I had the honor of being featured on New York Times Bestselling Author Laura Munson's blog this week where I talk about why I chose to self-publish and put myself in the indie author category. You can read it <a href="http://blog.lauramunson.com/2012/05/18/a-look-into-self-publishing/" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
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As an indie author, I am my marketing team and this week was phenomenal. I took advantage of KDP Selects Free Promotion Days yesterday and today. These are days when books are listed for free to give them more exposure. I was featured on <a href="http://www.pixelofink.com/friday-afternoon-6-more-free-kindle-books/" target="_blank">Pixel of Ink</a>, and my dear friend <a href="http://uninterestinghappeningsinmydailylife.blogspot.com/2012/05/her-nowhere-by-brigetta-schwaiger.html" target="_blank">Amy's blog here</a> (she's the one who read Her Nowhere on the cracked screen of her iPhone <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">love her </span>as I mention in Laura's interview) and today I'm Free Book of the Day on <a href="http://www.indieauthornews.com/" target="_blank">Indie Author News</a>.<br />
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All of this free exposure coupled with the KDP Select Promotion had pretty amazing results. The promo started at midnight Thursday night. By yesterday afternoon at 2pm, I was excited about (note- I had the numbers in this post but heard Amazon does not want you to share numbers so now there are x's to give you an idea) x,xxx downloads. By around 1am, my book had been downloaded over xx,xxx times! I am totally floored by this.<br />
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This morning I woke up and I was #6 on the Free Kindle Store Bestseller List. That's out of all the books fiction and non-fiction offered free on Amazon. I was also #1 in Drama, #2 in Contemporary Fiction and #5 in Fiction. Yee Haw!!!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGWZTQ_puW9VFLqOHyJfPSTf0P53ACzky1pA9YfNw-W4evSJe8YQVVComVko4-UwDA0fFIz_YTYHV4oXsr2FCww-UqAUaaagdx1dX7g7Cty4H1G4NAUVyBbCT57FjTNUCiCe99r1mRJCU/s1600/Screen+shot+2012-05-19+at+10.06.16+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGWZTQ_puW9VFLqOHyJfPSTf0P53ACzky1pA9YfNw-W4evSJe8YQVVComVko4-UwDA0fFIz_YTYHV4oXsr2FCww-UqAUaaagdx1dX7g7Cty4H1G4NAUVyBbCT57FjTNUCiCe99r1mRJCU/s640/Screen+shot+2012-05-19+at+10.06.16+AM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI5LkzsYSCEd_fY7hPdZC1SS4m5XGcbdkWsV7e9HzwSXWUjzWIM16_JJkQivNL3ygg2ykIAmAZyR5mzn7N3JHOvLXfwDsJdmlqxECAWgq2W0k9KRMwSzwBkfbX0AkuuUn4DBfHdjA9tVM/s1600/Screen+shot+2012-05-19+at+8.21.29+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI5LkzsYSCEd_fY7hPdZC1SS4m5XGcbdkWsV7e9HzwSXWUjzWIM16_JJkQivNL3ygg2ykIAmAZyR5mzn7N3JHOvLXfwDsJdmlqxECAWgq2W0k9KRMwSzwBkfbX0AkuuUn4DBfHdjA9tVM/s640/Screen+shot+2012-05-19+at+8.21.29+AM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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My takeaway from this experience so far is this... I think I just might like being an indie author.<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/146/E62B00EF94B0F1F93B4E2862F26CCE32.png" style="background: 0% 50%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; moz-background-origin: -moz-initial;" /></a>Brigetta Schwaigerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15160073455357316887noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4386190112641735734.post-61479656585187518462012-05-14T11:04:00.002-07:002012-05-18T08:35:02.753-07:00My "I Love Lucy" MomentA few weeks ago, the sun made an evening debut and we headed out as a family for a walk. We decided to take Destructo Dog with us. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">She's often the neglected child because she can be such a pain</span>.<br />
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It was a Friday night and so thought we'd breeze by a neighborhood where many of our friends live to see if anyone was out on the street playing. We found some friends gathered at one house and they invited us up.<br />
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The only problem is that we had Destructo Dog (not her real name, but it should be) with us and at this house, they had no fence. Another friend, who lives just a few houses down, has a dog (A giant, beautiful black Newfoundland) and she has a fence. So, I said - <i>Can I just take Destructo Dog down to your house and the dogs can play? </i><br />
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My friend Amy- <i>Yes. I'll go with you.</i><br />
Me- <i> No, I'm fine. I got it. It won't be hard.</i><br />
Amy (looking unsure)- <i>You sure?</i><br />
Me- <i>Yes. How hard could it be?</i><br />
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So, off I went down the block, severely underestimating my dogs psychosis. I put her in the back yard through a side gate. She started barking and whining and scratching at the gate. I figured she'd be okay once she could play with the Newfie and so went to let him out the back door. I followed him out and and noticed that DD had broken out of the fence and the Newfie followed her out. What proceeded was my "I Love Lucy" moment. You know, those moments when she would get herself into trouble and try unsuccessfully to fix it herself and then make a big mess in the process.<br />
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This is me looking like a crazy dog wrestler-<br />
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<i>"Fix" fence by securing the little hook.</i></div>
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<i>Chase Destructo Dog in circles in the front yard until she is back in the yard. </i></div>
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<i>Destructo Dog scratches at the fence and BREAKS the gate wide open. </i></div>
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<i>Chase her again in the front yard and tie her to their front porch post with the leash. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">I am fully expecting her to pull the post down and destroy the porch.</span></i></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<i>She is barking like a crazy dog!!!</i></div>
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<i>I now have to get the Newfie back in the house. He wants to play ball and is running back and forth. I run in the house and grab some crackers and throw them at him to see if he'll come. He laughs at my silly crackers and runs away. </i></div>
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<i>I chase the Newfie and finally grab his collar with both hands on each side of his neck. He pulls back and we begin to dance errr wrestle in my friend's front yard. Now, this is one of those moments when I don't look up, that I'd rather not know who is watching. </i></div>
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<i>I finally drag him back in the house.</i></div>
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<i>I'm now covered in dog slobber and dog hair and DD is still barking incessantly!!</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>I make a mistake. I want to wash my hands. I go back into the house and wash my hands.</i></div>
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<i>Then, as I try to go back out the front door, the giant Newfie somehow "sneaks" by me and is back in the front yard. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Hottie Husband and my friends make fun of me later... how could that giant dog "sneak?" Well, he did!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">!</span></i></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>So, it's back to dog wrestling and crazy barking dog tied to the porch. </i></div>
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<i>I am now laughing really hard at myself. I'm crying I'm laughing so hard, thinking of how confidently I told my friend I could handle it. It's nearly impossible to catch the Newfie because I am laughing so hard. I grab the collar again. He backs up and shakes his head back and forth, back and forth. </i></div>
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<i>Picture him shaking me back and forth with him. This dog is HUGE.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>I finally get him back in the house. DD is still barking non-stop. </i></div>
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<i>Then, I see them. Hottie husband and my friend's own Hottie Husband. Two total cuties walking toward me and I'm crying still from laughing so hard. </i></div>
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<i>DD still barking like crazy... apparently I was gone too long and they could hear her. </i></div>
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They are both like-<i>You okay? What happened?</i></div>
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<br /></div>
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I say- <i>I feel like I love Lucy...</i> <i>that was crazy!</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>And I tell the story, apologize about the gate, I am such a dork.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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HH runs Destructo Dog home and we enjoy a great evening with friends, dancing to Dance Party 3 on the Wii! </div>
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<br /></div>
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You ever feel like I love Lucy?</div>
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<br /></div>
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P.S.- Thanks for all the support for my novel. These two awesome bloggers mentioned it in their posts. Please pay them a visit- </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Becky at <a href="http://farmgirlpaints.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Farmgirls Paints</a>- She's my best friend I haven't met yet. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Kendra at <a href="http://kenedram.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">All & Nothing</a>- An amazing fellow Montana mama.</div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>xo-</i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></i></div>
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/146/E62B00EF94B0F1F93B4E2862F26CCE32.png" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: 0% 50%; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-color: initial; border-bottom-style: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-color: initial; border-left-style: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-color: initial; border-right-style: initial; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-color: initial; border-top-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px;" /></a>Brigetta Schwaigerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15160073455357316887noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4386190112641735734.post-47619756415450391662012-05-10T12:39:00.000-07:002012-05-10T12:40:48.369-07:00The Week of Publishing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
What a week!</div>
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I was a nervous Nelly to publish this book, to allow others to read what I'd written, to open myself up.</div>
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But, that's gone now. </div>
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And really, it all disappeared when I got a text from my sister.</div>
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Her friend read my novel- <i>Her Nowhere.</i></div>
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And she said this-</div>
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<i>It's my favorite book of all time. I want a signed hard copy. If it was in print, </i></div>
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<i>I would give it to everyone I know. It is so healing with all the loss I've endured in my life.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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And I said- <i>That is my hope. So if it's just for her, just for one, then that's enough. </i></div>
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And I meant it. </div>
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What an honor!</div>
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<br /></div>
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But, then there was more...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi87qORQ5UCX7iWlSuwST9o66H29p-ZvyV8LIHERdVOwQk6_otxVTfov7v2UTHdUIgg8G0AOxuyn12nXSCCulL1Cx23Gxrc6Q_rnLd9Px27Fe6niQRqgk6kIulKn2-7fj86prIK8UiS-uM/s1600/IMG_3099.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi87qORQ5UCX7iWlSuwST9o66H29p-ZvyV8LIHERdVOwQk6_otxVTfov7v2UTHdUIgg8G0AOxuyn12nXSCCulL1Cx23Gxrc6Q_rnLd9Px27Fe6niQRqgk6kIulKn2-7fj86prIK8UiS-uM/s400/IMG_3099.PNG" width="265" /></a></div>
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Hot and #1. I mean, who doesn't like that? </div>
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This Saturday, the book will be free on Amazon as part of a special promotion they do to increase awareness about new books. Please get your free copy and if you are so inclined, share it on your blog, Facebook, Twitter... </div>
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And as a special bonus to this post, here are some photos of my biggest fan club.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Actually, they really aren't that interested and have no idea what I'm doing. As long as their baseball uniforms are ready and they have food, it's all good.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhry_G4Pp_Ij3W9eXE4Kl0o1riJ6vGpWUkXbVl6g_TsrngiLfdxDTUZe8l8_OuqlXoeyEyjKKjZ7tAs4bXMM3WDz9VGAQ3rYf28GdrEm_fxKZpl40fvCw_higLYINYIw25l7oiacC4w4c/s1600/IMG_3111+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="475" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhry_G4Pp_Ij3W9eXE4Kl0o1riJ6vGpWUkXbVl6g_TsrngiLfdxDTUZe8l8_OuqlXoeyEyjKKjZ7tAs4bXMM3WDz9VGAQ3rYf28GdrEm_fxKZpl40fvCw_higLYINYIw25l7oiacC4w4c/s640/IMG_3111+copy.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZL13WNjyHcfSg8F9ABlHcpN2zh1QsrWVwF5c74Mn_aC0DlySjvx_1eVj0Cor2Ok5E6FR54zDhD8QR1FDXHVk_TSC-HYuUzY2awhyehs8G_Tuq7mKKF5thKod1GIdW60f5ypngBPXJIHc/s1600/IMG_3113+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="520" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZL13WNjyHcfSg8F9ABlHcpN2zh1QsrWVwF5c74Mn_aC0DlySjvx_1eVj0Cor2Ok5E6FR54zDhD8QR1FDXHVk_TSC-HYuUzY2awhyehs8G_Tuq7mKKF5thKod1GIdW60f5ypngBPXJIHc/s640/IMG_3113+copy.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis_DiQ5rnzBbOz_3cR9ROCKPFukFdju9-PtgUOMtPAbUHwdygWd0GzSeYVLaYW_fWXkuz0-cxmyAVPyPBBYfPdHLC7laGFx8SPGd6yqoMFnPm-j0pUe0KboC3ZbB5odI2zvPrgkqoz8Ik/s1600/IMG_3117+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis_DiQ5rnzBbOz_3cR9ROCKPFukFdju9-PtgUOMtPAbUHwdygWd0GzSeYVLaYW_fWXkuz0-cxmyAVPyPBBYfPdHLC7laGFx8SPGd6yqoMFnPm-j0pUe0KboC3ZbB5odI2zvPrgkqoz8Ik/s640/IMG_3117+copy.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2FWj8eNd5c3gLyMY6ViZm7-MFfCnMFpO4n5R41vFDpwCNFZaAJNZqKw17jX5xt24UABRA8eeKbn5j9UpBkvnyA629sp_kxM1orD6REcymLyLgxbZCi9LZMSZT7eAx-fnBSnn_sw5YL8c/s1600/Vance.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2FWj8eNd5c3gLyMY6ViZm7-MFfCnMFpO4n5R41vFDpwCNFZaAJNZqKw17jX5xt24UABRA8eeKbn5j9UpBkvnyA629sp_kxM1orD6REcymLyLgxbZCi9LZMSZT7eAx-fnBSnn_sw5YL8c/s640/Vance.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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xoxo-</div>
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<br /></div>
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/146/E62B00EF94B0F1F93B4E2862F26CCE32.png" style="background: 0% 50%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; moz-background-origin: -moz-initial;" /></a>Brigetta Schwaigerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15160073455357316887noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4386190112641735734.post-3989463520414710682012-05-05T12:23:00.000-07:002012-05-05T12:24:23.142-07:00Her Nowhere... My Novel is Published<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKN9aaSEE6Vtrgd5mWsdjTGOFCsrlgB4445mfBiDEKNFln28aWbTXynhZ5QzuUpFMXM3tZU9UU3POtpEpnzr653UMLRzxPiZtR9uGNnwy3ymq48giHGXyl2GZYKcjo81E1aGyKPQAFzkk/s1600/handhernowherecover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKN9aaSEE6Vtrgd5mWsdjTGOFCsrlgB4445mfBiDEKNFln28aWbTXynhZ5QzuUpFMXM3tZU9UU3POtpEpnzr653UMLRzxPiZtR9uGNnwy3ymq48giHGXyl2GZYKcjo81E1aGyKPQAFzkk/s640/handhernowherecover.jpg" width="438" /></a></div>
<br />
My novel, <i>the thing I've worked at for two years - writing, editing, writing, editing</i>, - published this morning.<br />
<br />
Then, I gathered baseball uniforms to wash and made cookies to give out to players after the game. I wiped a nose, checked a boo boo, watched my son sit at the breakfast table and sulk because he didn't want to eat the French toast dad made. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">It was really good French toast, but this boy is stubborn against eggs. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span><br />
I posted on Facebook that I'd published my novel, asked friends and family to support me. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Not an easy thing for me to do.</span><br />
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Then, I burned a batch of cookies while I was on the phone, ordering a screen door for the house. And I watched my big kids play cards, knowing I'd asked them the clean their bathrooms and rooms and they were avoiding the task.<br />
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I began this blog post, then had to stop to make lunch and make my bed and shower. Little Bear promptly climbed in my bed and unmade it— created instead a fort of pillows. I hit my funny bone and OUCH! I checked Facebook and teared up... my family and friends rock!<br />
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I went back and read <a href="http://transparentmama.blogspot.com/2010/10/this-is-what-i-was-wearing-when-it.html">this post</a> from October 10, 2010, when I finished the last chapter. It was a rough draft, but the story had found its way to the end.<br />
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I love this book. I really do. I've worked hard to create something I hope will touch and move and resonate with you. But, to be honest, this is a wee bit scary, putting myself out there like this.<br />
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If you buy it (it's only 99 cents right now), and if you like it, please let me know. I want to know. And I would be most honored if you would take the time to share it with a friend and write a review on Amazon.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Her-Nowhere-ebook/dp/B007ZL3RZW/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1336245324&sr=8-1">You can find it here</a>.<br />
<br />
<br />
xo-<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/146/E62B00EF94B0F1F93B4E2862F26CCE32.png" style="background: 0% 50%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; moz-background-origin: -moz-initial;" /></a>Brigetta Schwaigerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15160073455357316887noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4386190112641735734.post-59794710331909268642012-05-01T09:53:00.000-07:002012-05-01T09:53:00.407-07:00Nothing Gold Can Stay<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
My bridesmaids carried tulips at my wedding. </div>
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They are my favorite- delicate, bright, classic.</div>
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Last fall, I planted tulip bulbs and few days ago </div>
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I walked out to the back yard to watch Little Bear on the trampoline.</div>
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I had work to do so my laptop was in hand. </div>
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I set it down on our patio table and walked toward a flash of red.</div>
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It was the first bloom.</div>
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Please know I didn't make a big deal. I didn't jump up and down, exclaim anything or even bust out one of my loud laughs. </div>
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I simply smiled at it and went to my computer.</div>
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Then, disaster.</div>
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Destructo Dog (who was nearly renamed recently due to her reformed behavior but I've now reconsidered) loped over from where she was and ATE the tulip. </div>
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Just looked at it and bit the top off as if she knew I'd admired it. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6rUCJ00tpd646wR8RgSV7A5CpYTQKShE1kv3aF5dJRtsKPdN00GlH-l9FsQ7mXgBwnt-O2FviUaNvMJfRA9JpHBD01kS3RdMfaE3Mc2nlBQ6qSkZMTffPGUjErICzF6e6xfeOaSYsu1k/s1600/IMG_3063+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6rUCJ00tpd646wR8RgSV7A5CpYTQKShE1kv3aF5dJRtsKPdN00GlH-l9FsQ7mXgBwnt-O2FviUaNvMJfRA9JpHBD01kS3RdMfaE3Mc2nlBQ6qSkZMTffPGUjErICzF6e6xfeOaSYsu1k/s320/IMG_3063+copy.jpg" width="234" /></a></div>
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And I thought what I always think now in these situations-<i> nothing gold can stay</i>.</div>
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It's from a Robert Frost poem about how all beauty is only here for a moment.</div>
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Years ago, I would have been sad, angry, irritated. </div>
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But now, I thought - <i>Wow, stinker. I'm glad I got to see it though.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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Four boys and dogs will do that to you. I've seen cherished items broken, couches ripped apart by puppies, dirt tracked over newly washed floors, cars turned into Pigpen, furniture scratched, new blouses puked on. </div>
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At some point early in the years of family life, Robert Frost's words came to me and I would say out loud-<i> nothing gold can stay. </i></div>
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Sometimes through gritted teeth, but more often with a relaxed acceptance. </div>
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If there is no malice or disrespect intended</div>
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(and I don't know Destructo Dogs heart intent when eating my tulip)</div>
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then it's just material. </div>
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It's just temporary anyway. </div>
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Happy May Day!</div>
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I remember carrying basket of flowers to neighbors on this day as a little girl. </div>
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<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" style="font-family: verdana, arial, 'lucida sans', helvetica, geneva, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><tbody>
<tr><td valign="top" width="80%"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></td><td align="right" colspan="2" nowrap="" valign="top"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><i><br /></i></span></td></tr>
<tr><td colspan="3"></td></tr>
<tr><td colspan="2" valign="top"><pre><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><i>Nothing Gold Can Stay by Robert Frost</i></span></pre>
<pre><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><i>
</i></span></pre>
<pre><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><i>Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay. </i></span></pre>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/146/E62B00EF94B0F1F93B4E2862F26CCE32.png" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: 0% 50%; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-color: initial; border-bottom-style: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-color: initial; border-left-style: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-color: initial; border-right-style: initial; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-color: initial; border-top-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px;" /></a>Brigetta Schwaigerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15160073455357316887noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4386190112641735734.post-25848415207586264662012-04-26T08:54:00.001-07:002012-04-26T08:54:20.703-07:00Mr. Thirsty<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
As a mother, there are certain things that are difficult for me to remember to do.</div>
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Like cut fingernails and toenails on a regular basis. Which results in my looking at vampire like toenails <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"> I don't really know what vampire toenails look like, but I picture them long and black</span> and gasping in horror. </div>
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We MUST cut them now!</div>
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Or signing a daily calendar from school or reading the nightly reading book or scheduling regular medical and dental check-ups.</div>
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Okay, now I sound like a horrible mother. Please know I do feed them and hug them and talk to them and jump on the trampoline and dance with them in my kitchen. </div>
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So, I love it when someone helps me remember these vital things. </div>
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Like our local dental office. </div>
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They WILL NOT let me forget to bring my children in for a check up.</div>
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And now that we have awesome Fire Fighter provided dental insurance, it makes me feel like such a good mom when I schedule an appointment AND remember to go.</div>
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Yesterday, Little Bear had his first dental appointment. </div>
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They called it a "Happy Visit."</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">I had just been to the dentist the day before for a cleaning and it was not so happy. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Next time, I think I'll schedule a "Happy Visit" for myself!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqgKdU2SKEjC4yQQzraTzvG3vsxaTEVEzvWGMvQrc9tXtOsrySprzkqBQSTSoN9kCT_WQ_JslS1weE4C-YIHmH2DwGmBPIsYe1az27wWKDeHPZI2XDPvazne-ArV0gCsaskqFkSlb4mls/s1600/IMG_3020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqgKdU2SKEjC4yQQzraTzvG3vsxaTEVEzvWGMvQrc9tXtOsrySprzkqBQSTSoN9kCT_WQ_JslS1weE4C-YIHmH2DwGmBPIsYe1az27wWKDeHPZI2XDPvazne-ArV0gCsaskqFkSlb4mls/s1600/IMG_3020.jpg" /></a></div>
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It was really so cute. </div>
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He listened to everything she said, fascinated by the polishing tool and the sunglasses to make him more comfortable with the bright light.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaHfBv5DTYSsWnnIbGafmmjvvrn21jqmY_6qnHJrUg49WQmDFqRFhkDR_R6h1WBKULe5bsw-A5d59ich0Q8cCgGm4l8LO7VgoZWosyKu5Nd_L0WUiDdBMzDPLhqCJgUfSIGTdqJTyOg-4/s1600/IMG_3023.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaHfBv5DTYSsWnnIbGafmmjvvrn21jqmY_6qnHJrUg49WQmDFqRFhkDR_R6h1WBKULe5bsw-A5d59ich0Q8cCgGm4l8LO7VgoZWosyKu5Nd_L0WUiDdBMzDPLhqCJgUfSIGTdqJTyOg-4/s640/IMG_3023.jpg" width="526" /></a></div>
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Doesn't he look so big? I want to say its the angle, but I'm afraid I might be wrong. </div>
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By far, his favorite thing was Mr. Thirsty!</div>
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The tool that sprays water in your mouth and then sucks it out. </div>
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He held on to Mr. Thirsty, sucking the spit from his mouth until it was time to go. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSltoLjVN74_Dgis34IM4a4Q9pWUjiNfHzhY55qNUsaq86LvvAx01P7C1LyfwXUAvSlmxcQHeEon-iU5eA9QVs6Ae2TxjGQqqxjbSpvK6mh0493IhCgUWcmn-25-s7w73dRCj2XV058go/s1600/IMG_3027+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSltoLjVN74_Dgis34IM4a4Q9pWUjiNfHzhY55qNUsaq86LvvAx01P7C1LyfwXUAvSlmxcQHeEon-iU5eA9QVs6Ae2TxjGQqqxjbSpvK6mh0493IhCgUWcmn-25-s7w73dRCj2XV058go/s640/IMG_3027+copy.jpg" width="476" /></a></div>
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His visit really was "Happy!"</div>
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The ladies all gave him high fives, he picked bubbles from the surprise drawer and we played in the grass in front of the office, chasing bubbles. </div>
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It was adorable. </div>
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Doesn't that just sound like every dentist visit you've ever had?</div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/146/E62B00EF94B0F1F93B4E2862F26CCE32.png" style="background: 0% 50%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; moz-background-origin: -moz-initial;" /></a>Brigetta Schwaigerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15160073455357316887noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4386190112641735734.post-13718385714887529872012-04-24T09:26:00.002-07:002012-04-24T09:26:19.106-07:00Montana Weather- A Metaphor For Life<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiubDky1pwpeJPFOCKdX7p4gcH2fh0kojhu_OQaRMB2E_Guj-qAZMtYPSZEFyOD5x8WWqka0XR7nYzFvM2SIC7Q6iL1xuqTdjoLodYDGNYAjDBOTQ7JySULDFpGesYIN_RplXpsP084QHk/s1600/IMG_3011+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiubDky1pwpeJPFOCKdX7p4gcH2fh0kojhu_OQaRMB2E_Guj-qAZMtYPSZEFyOD5x8WWqka0XR7nYzFvM2SIC7Q6iL1xuqTdjoLodYDGNYAjDBOTQ7JySULDFpGesYIN_RplXpsP084QHk/s320/IMG_3011+copy.jpg" width="313" /></a></div>
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Yesterday, it was beautiful. Eighty-one degrees was the forecasted high. And on days like that in Montana, everyone is outside— on their porches, running, biking, playing. </div>
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So, instead of heading to the gym, I decided to take a run in the hood. I got my music ready, my sunglasses on and headed out. Three blocks in, the single cloud in the sky (that's a picture of it) covered the sun. I felt a drop of wetness hit my hand and for a moment thought I'd been hit with a bird bomb. Then there was another and another. It was officially raining. </div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Side Note- It was the only time it would rain all day. And this is not the first time the weather has done this to me. I once walked the three blocks to my son's school with Little Bear in the stroller to pick him up. The sun was shining when I left. On the way back, a huge storm rolled in and we walked back in a swirling, whirling, snowstorm. I mean, it was windy and pelting us all the way home. I'm sure I looked ridiculous dragging the stroller backwards, pushing through the snow. Now, back to my run... </span></div>
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Here's my brain-</div>
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<i>Seriously? It's raining right now. During the 20 minutes I decide to run... it's raining. Okay, I'll just stand under this big pine and wait it out. Should I call HH and have him pick me up?</i></div>
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<i>Wait, what am I doing under this tree? I've seen women running during snowstorms. People here hike ridiculous peaks to ski fresh powder. Toughen up girl. Get out there in the rain and run!</i></div>
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So I started to run in the rain. It wasn't cold. It didn't hurt. It was just a little wet. And you know what? It was fun<i> and </i>it was lovely in its own way.</div>
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Then the rain passed and the sun came out again and I kept going as Francesca Battistelli sang to me on Pandora—</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #31312d; font-family: georgia; font-size: 12px; line-height: 20px;">Now there’s a joy inside I can’t contain<br />But even perfect days can end in rain<br />And though it’s pouring down<br />I see You through the clouds<br />Shining on my face</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #31312d; font-family: georgia; font-size: 12px; line-height: 20px;">Like sunlight burning at midnight<br />Making my life something so<br />Beautiful, beautiful<br />Mercy reaching to save me<br />All that I need<br />You are so<br />Beautiful, beautiful</span></div>
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And then I realized it was supposed to rain during my run. That I needed it to rain during my run. Because the last weeks had been hard on me. </div>
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The last weeks had me trying to pull myself out of the rain when perhaps I had been trying too hard— wanting to wait under the big pine until it passed or circumvent it all together. </div>
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And things were okay. In fact, things were beautiful... before the rain, in the midst of the rain, and in the sunshine that followed.</div>
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Because regardless of circumstances ( and really, mine are nothing big), when mercy reaches to save you, all you can feel is joy that can't be contained.</div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/146/E62B00EF94B0F1F93B4E2862F26CCE32.png" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: 0% 50%; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-color: initial; border-bottom-style: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-color: initial; border-left-style: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-color: initial; border-right-style: initial; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-color: initial; border-top-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px;" /></a></div>
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* <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Could you say a prayer for a husband and son lost the dearest woman in their lives yesterday? She had an aneurism and massive stroke a few days ago and passed away yesterday. Her teenage son is now without his mother. And she was one of those women who had no pretenses, was kind and frank at the same time, and served her community generously. She's a California mom who is a friend of my sis. Thanks!</span></div>Brigetta Schwaigerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15160073455357316887noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4386190112641735734.post-19915922243817880572012-04-19T12:23:00.000-07:002012-04-19T12:23:35.392-07:00OvercomingFear- The big, fat, nasty ugly thing with yellowed buck teeth and greasy hair and wretched breathe.<br />
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The thing that keeps us from sleep and dominates our minds, stealing one minute of joy at a time.<br />
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It's inherent. Starts with— fear of the loud flush of the toilet, the dark, of being left alone, of going into an unfamiliar space or walking down into dark basement.<br />
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Then graduates to— fear of not measuring up, getting a huge zit, the things others think, being exposed, being taken, that mean teacher.<br />
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It morphs and moves and comes at us with— fear of flying, fear of loss, fear of not having done enough in this life, fear of not having enough money at the end of the month, fear your children will misbehave, fear of speaking up in a crowd, fear of taking a chance, fear of... <i>you fill it in. </i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
The point is IT CAN BE relentless. It can be paralyzing. It can dominate your landscape.<br />
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But, it doesn't have to, right? <br />
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What does OVERCOMING fear look like? To me, it looks like a prayer for help and action that follows.<br />
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It looks like— Taking the chance that if you flush it, the toilet won't, in fact, devour you. And making fun of your own huge zit and realizing there is camaraderie in such a thing. And giving thanks when your mind wants to replay all the ways everything could fall apart.<br />
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And each time you overcome, you are causing that big, fat, nasty ugly thing with yellowed buck teeth and greasy hair and wretched breathe to shrink and shrivel and retreat.<br />
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Here's to punching fear in the face and not letting it steal one more moment from you... or <i>me.</i><br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/146/E62B00EF94B0F1F93B4E2862F26CCE32.png" style="background: 0% 50%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; moz-background-origin: -moz-initial;" /></a>Brigetta Schwaigerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15160073455357316887noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4386190112641735734.post-8224721574911984802012-04-17T08:13:00.000-07:002012-04-17T08:13:21.507-07:00My Baby is 3!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I started this blog when I was pregnant with this Little Bear. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaTJChCkQA9eb9_j3u2WtROATO0XEWZwLNYQYJ2ScMjpA2QiKbcqWMyZU8D97i6FJYWpGNXg5O5EBX_WskmSaBYEIyJ5tjyX0wDit1XcL9A6xRZbbcfz-TBOFyAZ3HfVvoN9r7kNbpY-w/s1600/IMG_2271.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaTJChCkQA9eb9_j3u2WtROATO0XEWZwLNYQYJ2ScMjpA2QiKbcqWMyZU8D97i6FJYWpGNXg5O5EBX_WskmSaBYEIyJ5tjyX0wDit1XcL9A6xRZbbcfz-TBOFyAZ3HfVvoN9r7kNbpY-w/s400/IMG_2271.jpg" width="282" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And many have you have followed along since I gave birth to this sweet boy who has been... well, I want to say "complete joy"... but even those words seem insufficient.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And when he turned three on Easter amidst a bounty of family in California,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I couldn't help to feel a tinge of sadness.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A slight desire to go sit in the fetal position in a closet and suck my thumb.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My baby is three. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My baby is three. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My baby isn't a baby anymore. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">In a few short years, he will be walking through the doors of Kindergarten. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Aghhhh! Stop me here. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-1qS9a8uzN6uTMjNZzo6lKnq63lUokPW5F0P7Z5wQf1CBtyG-eknQ2hkgdpAYTubGf8odvOV5kw1uO7BIoRB48vTMoYfvuFvbo_mypkw7cTHfxVPduYJyZDM05U27vYB8aPD1_dbIjC0/s1600/IMG_2283.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-1qS9a8uzN6uTMjNZzo6lKnq63lUokPW5F0P7Z5wQf1CBtyG-eknQ2hkgdpAYTubGf8odvOV5kw1uO7BIoRB48vTMoYfvuFvbo_mypkw7cTHfxVPduYJyZDM05U27vYB8aPD1_dbIjC0/s640/IMG_2283.jpg" width="520" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We were so blessed to have every living grandparent he has drive to my sister's house to see us, to help celebrate our boy.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I mean, how rare a moment was that? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I drank it in. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgigPMhScKleOF0WweEyw-Iq8zHbT_a2Skogk-CAmTngdndkhC7ExIllBCzT6iSfW73lnhsn1eKJlxbDC0vp-uQ4lydfXN50GQ4dJzANRPskDcsUDc5KldYleGRvviXOLvQLTsuTe-rPx0/s1600/IMG_2202.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgigPMhScKleOF0WweEyw-Iq8zHbT_a2Skogk-CAmTngdndkhC7ExIllBCzT6iSfW73lnhsn1eKJlxbDC0vp-uQ4lydfXN50GQ4dJzANRPskDcsUDc5KldYleGRvviXOLvQLTsuTe-rPx0/s640/IMG_2202.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My words for him-</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Joyful</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Kind-hearted</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Welcoming</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Thoughtful</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Funny</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Athletic</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Lefty</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Brown Eyed</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">iPhone lover</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Strider Rider</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Ball Thrower</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Silly Goose</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Candy Finder</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Chair Slider Climber</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Lego Builder</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Lego Thrower</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Giggler</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Smiley</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Hope Giver</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMSZpiKBAuv-dmubUGqfI5HN43KnK92uButEGn0j0-_s_clWvFCyqQHwCOmU78TjbDpO5U7iCgiFyyO8b6vDlOxDlpu5vLS-vQ9cZfTUwJs5dc90RxlF3N_afrJvEV-YHZlMleOqZo1Vk/s1600/IMG_2186+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMSZpiKBAuv-dmubUGqfI5HN43KnK92uButEGn0j0-_s_clWvFCyqQHwCOmU78TjbDpO5U7iCgiFyyO8b6vDlOxDlpu5vLS-vQ9cZfTUwJs5dc90RxlF3N_afrJvEV-YHZlMleOqZo1Vk/s640/IMG_2186+copy.jpg" width="425" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">He told everyone for weeks, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"My Birthday is on Eastah!"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsYMKJHSyI6b0TzxQTfRwSOZD4fjEaWqB-rFmywtsQeMBx70cSytZrBfv7ulESD1-UxV8-RMi5zvZrs7oktiJmsqDohfJsQRfJB2Dju4YVh1I9x2Np5L4lZQVai2NgvcGRHx9Pyo-wDa4/s1600/IMG_2232+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsYMKJHSyI6b0TzxQTfRwSOZD4fjEaWqB-rFmywtsQeMBx70cSytZrBfv7ulESD1-UxV8-RMi5zvZrs7oktiJmsqDohfJsQRfJB2Dju4YVh1I9x2Np5L4lZQVai2NgvcGRHx9Pyo-wDa4/s400/IMG_2232+copy.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And the extra blessing of that was being with family, seeing our California church family, and having a built in birthday game. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Have you heard?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Little Bear is THREE!</div><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/146/E62B00EF94B0F1F93B4E2862F26CCE32.png" style="background: 0% 50%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; moz-background-origin: -moz-initial;" /></a>Brigetta Schwaigerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15160073455357316887noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4386190112641735734.post-10302971147715882672012-04-15T17:43:00.000-07:002012-04-15T17:43:35.286-07:00hi there...I just wanted to say— HI. <br />
<br />
I'm still here. And I am overwhelmed by the emails and in person encounters and relaying of messages through friends and family that you miss my blog. You miss hearing my silly, often TMI ramblings about my boys, my fears, my marriage and my journey along the path of this life. Humbling to know you care. So first, thank you. Thanks for liking to read what I write and thanks for letting me know it matters.<br />
<br />
Next, sorry! Sorry for being absent. And I mean that sincerely to you and also in a strange way to myself. You see, I realized something the other day. Since I took the entirely unplanned and rudely unannounced and way longer than I ever imagined break from blogging, I've felt strangely absent.<br />
<br />
Let me explain. And you bloggers will totally get this. When you blog, when you know you will journal and write and share something personal and real or funny and random on your blog, it somehow awakens you to the moment. To the details, to the depth, to realness of the happening. It makes you SEE your life through a new lens. And that lens is valuable and beautiful and it makes you be very present.<br />
<br />
I began to question the value of my time blogging. I don't earn money with the time spent and I'm in a place where I need to help contribute financially to our family. So part of me thought it wasn't where my time was needed. That it would be better spent on my kids or working or...<br />
<br />
But, I was wrong. I miss it. I miss you all and the relationships it's fostered online and in person. I miss SEEING my family and my life and my boys grow through that lens. It makes me pause and "still the moment" through my camera's lens or my writer's mind. It makes me see my life more clearly.<br />
<br />
This is my very long winded way of saying I'm going to be back here. I hope it hasn't been too long and that you'll join me again. YOU encourage me. And I've missed that too.<br />
<br />
xo-<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/146/E62B00EF94B0F1F93B4E2862F26CCE32.png" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: 0% 50%; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-color: initial; border-bottom-style: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-color: initial; border-left-style: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-color: initial; border-right-style: initial; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-color: initial; border-top-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px;" /></a>Brigetta Schwaigerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15160073455357316887noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4386190112641735734.post-9766257022673527002011-12-22T11:19:00.000-08:002011-12-22T11:19:33.704-08:00A New Kind of Christmas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Christmas used to be- </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">making ornaments with my mom,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">climbing the ladder to the roof with dad to "help" hang the lights,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">buying a flocked Christmas tree,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">making sugar cookies from scratch and frosting them on the counter, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">opening one gift Christmas Eve,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> sleeping with my sister and staring at her until she said, "yes, now we can get up!"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Then walking out to our living room to see what magic had occurred in the night.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxaIZJ8pl2Q8Fwih7Pe-MMOUhceb_JVtENjJnxnafxkCXeoo35GZsTOt2uM-w8TpJTOEC-56vNvPlomZUC2NWnE2JpgcPbivwwu_gYuajLtx366v1niOJ_yb5Lag0DOaawMAzFYg10Vm1M/s1600/IMG_1372+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxaIZJ8pl2Q8Fwih7Pe-MMOUhceb_JVtENjJnxnafxkCXeoo35GZsTOt2uM-w8TpJTOEC-56vNvPlomZUC2NWnE2JpgcPbivwwu_gYuajLtx366v1niOJ_yb5Lag0DOaawMAzFYg10Vm1M/s1600/IMG_1372+copy.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> Then Christmas changed-</div><div style="text-align: center;">we still made ornaments with mom, </div><div style="text-align: center;">and sometimes bought a flocked tree, </div><div style="text-align: center;">and my sister and mom began hanging the lights, </div><div style="text-align: center;">and Christmas Eve was at dad's house, Christmas morn at mom's. </div><div style="text-align: center;">We made sugar cookies and frosted them on our kitchen counter.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeydQdKOYT2Y2BbOQysJsZ8-l0GJXy4YsMVNRNp0dIWL1_iDAPEUhdpzN7CDKUBdG8AHNmmFieFMCksuNXHMZzVWgOs_1jLDODdopE2r3M_jKZfXZevVnfRUCz8YL0Xd94JMQUykE_Crvk/s1600/IMG_1371+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeydQdKOYT2Y2BbOQysJsZ8-l0GJXy4YsMVNRNp0dIWL1_iDAPEUhdpzN7CDKUBdG8AHNmmFieFMCksuNXHMZzVWgOs_1jLDODdopE2r3M_jKZfXZevVnfRUCz8YL0Xd94JMQUykE_Crvk/s1600/IMG_1371+copy.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Then two families came in to play and Christmas became for many years-</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Christmas Eve at Grandma Betty's, then on to my mother's house that same night.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We awoke did a quick Christmas morning, then showered and hustled over to HH's parents for a big Christmas Brunch where both our families gathered.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Then Christmas night was turkey soup and stockings</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> at Grandma Dody and Grandpa Don's. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We made sugar cookies from scratch and frosted them on the kitchen counter and gave them out to family and friends. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">HH's grandparents moved to Big Bear, then his parents to Reno and it all changed again. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Brunch moved to our house, we started new traditions of photos with Santa as a family, baking cookies together and frosting them on mom's kitchen counter. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And we made it work, embraced the new, found a way to be together. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCZ5QVAO_XyAj5wutVDNi1yZo-wk1CXzmZJItUkllbYjtsL2wBBZuaD2aVVULsjHnWxK4qfFfI2hzVwYnDLpXPXbl_i66RaJE_l1-SoB5rmbn1ZxrxSMrBiTlpHCv3DqxBMBnij1ilDvrO/s1600/IMG_1369+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCZ5QVAO_XyAj5wutVDNi1yZo-wk1CXzmZJItUkllbYjtsL2wBBZuaD2aVVULsjHnWxK4qfFfI2hzVwYnDLpXPXbl_i66RaJE_l1-SoB5rmbn1ZxrxSMrBiTlpHCv3DqxBMBnij1ilDvrO/s640/IMG_1369+copy.jpg" width="356" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I've been spoiled the last few years since we moved. </div><div style="text-align: center;">We've flown to California, had Christmas with both of our families a little early, but still we got to have Christmas together. </div><div style="text-align: center;">This year it is a totally new kind of Christmas. We didn't fly back.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> HH can't get the time off and he will work Christmas Eve. </div><div style="text-align: center;">I'm adjusting.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">The kids made the cool snowflakes shown above, I shipped all the gifts to family, all the shopping is done, wrapping looms ahead, but I do feel a little bereft. </div><div style="text-align: center;">I'm a tradition lover and there is a big chunk missing this year. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Life goes on as it tends to do...</div><div style="text-align: center;">HH is making gorgeous furniture in our garage (photo is in process... final photo later).</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0duL1mLDqzLtYoCcwSBF__rB7hHKQwZCyJRPMLbARLbQGEpXn-nO47KwQpnhwHXp_7FAJLB5gK2dFI0lh45a1VCtiII4g-c0iazMl8JDPgeTghDrnM0hTqMyn76s0Oh-XmUQRm4ykzzBx/s1600/IMG_1365+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0duL1mLDqzLtYoCcwSBF__rB7hHKQwZCyJRPMLbARLbQGEpXn-nO47KwQpnhwHXp_7FAJLB5gK2dFI0lh45a1VCtiII4g-c0iazMl8JDPgeTghDrnM0hTqMyn76s0Oh-XmUQRm4ykzzBx/s1600/IMG_1365+copy.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">The older boys have been skiing a lot with their buddies on the mountain even though we </div><div style="text-align: center;">still wait for a big dumping of snow. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpFDEtM4SeUchAQspFKDzvd01MWYUO31nA3y30eh5ltdSq4UDQB1tfFUT4BzsFJOsIPW9_2bhyvXVDHY5b8Kk7EKkBUVFTcD0xQ0H94jHnj9TJAA4zqUDDhRENoNWbaGSFprWukf3eY5y2/s1600/IMG_1363+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpFDEtM4SeUchAQspFKDzvd01MWYUO31nA3y30eh5ltdSq4UDQB1tfFUT4BzsFJOsIPW9_2bhyvXVDHY5b8Kk7EKkBUVFTcD0xQ0H94jHnj9TJAA4zqUDDhRENoNWbaGSFprWukf3eY5y2/s1600/IMG_1363+copy.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> And I'm certain I'm not the only one dealing with newness and change and difference this year. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Loved ones have been lost, sickness has come, finances are strangling, family isn't near. </div><div style="text-align: center;">The thing about life is that you can't stop it from changing. </div><div style="text-align: center;">This girl wants to throw a fit about that sometimes, but then I remember things usually go south when I try to be in charge</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">But Christmas is a birth we are celebrating, right?</div><div style="text-align: center;">It's about Him who loved us enough to be born of flesh. </div><div style="text-align: center;">And that's about newness. </div><div style="text-align: center;">An everlasting, unchanging, beautiful NEWNESS! </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">And there is one other tiny little thing that hasn't changed.</div><div style="text-align: center;">We still...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx9bqLKQdSnna-N0PR5vNqB23t8UWPhH5Mg7IROEUmYZRWTJiwzh_vQ7BG654zxFKSL2BaspywAerqL0Eefnpj4zjDt73oZsXiT2wX1url-n-PSTt_VKsifTtwQT80A3AXfYbU4HKjjXFr/s1600/IMG_1362+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx9bqLKQdSnna-N0PR5vNqB23t8UWPhH5Mg7IROEUmYZRWTJiwzh_vQ7BG654zxFKSL2BaspywAerqL0Eefnpj4zjDt73oZsXiT2wX1url-n-PSTt_VKsifTtwQT80A3AXfYbU4HKjjXFr/s1600/IMG_1362+copy.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> make sugar cookies</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAbc2ujA1-GSeKe4hE8Gs3xUjV5LfT7728OQMwsZG_JlTbDGemNhCuKZBmSrL9JuBkhAHbweWLC2V1GSuLf8rlCIAzi5IAG8pNa0WWGEnQ3LK9jp2L2G2pXMG08pVE0WdIELugHABJkOG1/s1600/IMG_1358+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAbc2ujA1-GSeKe4hE8Gs3xUjV5LfT7728OQMwsZG_JlTbDGemNhCuKZBmSrL9JuBkhAHbweWLC2V1GSuLf8rlCIAzi5IAG8pNa0WWGEnQ3LK9jp2L2G2pXMG08pVE0WdIELugHABJkOG1/s1600/IMG_1358+copy.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> from scratch</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlhIGcWMMl1LO6eQxH5J7O-h3M_E4K8mWD6PXx2XaXoVeLKQx1a0R_gWSgUp4AT22xeHf7SMwbRKh-XMGZWBMFcgIbnNFBi5W5hF3I3MnDZcKXZttjl1aES4C-rYpftiYDBYAghUXZs0ou/s1600/IMG_1356+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlhIGcWMMl1LO6eQxH5J7O-h3M_E4K8mWD6PXx2XaXoVeLKQx1a0R_gWSgUp4AT22xeHf7SMwbRKh-XMGZWBMFcgIbnNFBi5W5hF3I3MnDZcKXZttjl1aES4C-rYpftiYDBYAghUXZs0ou/s1600/IMG_1356+copy.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> and frost them</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGca2MctB8QAjq6ah6BEm9QrVWtFwMW4rjSLBDQWYuPRJ9WFi5KZRfwVPT_Izoblu1rAKeWpmQPEwUZb0WCclEeKxnXDba-hHgbtn-tyNEflAECIrGKfNNfVR0xXQU5D4J48X6yT9ciTPH/s1600/IMG_1355+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGca2MctB8QAjq6ah6BEm9QrVWtFwMW4rjSLBDQWYuPRJ9WFi5KZRfwVPT_Izoblu1rAKeWpmQPEwUZb0WCclEeKxnXDba-hHgbtn-tyNEflAECIrGKfNNfVR0xXQU5D4J48X6yT9ciTPH/s1600/IMG_1355+copy.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">on the kitchen counter!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Merry Christmas to you with love! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I wish I could give you a hug with that wish. </div><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/146/E62B00EF94B0F1F93B4E2862F26CCE32.png" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: 0% 50%; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-color: initial; border-bottom-style: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-color: initial; border-left-style: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-color: initial; border-right-style: initial; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-color: initial; border-top-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px;" /></a>Brigetta Schwaigerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15160073455357316887noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4386190112641735734.post-14788922903603729782011-11-24T10:34:00.000-08:002011-11-24T10:34:05.361-08:00Grateful<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxJhGgsgrEr6kyVXdCgw547hnFKVL9wmcOMcHjuqAwTk_F6qVW3pCg9PzdmCLXpwjynSKZkn_gf2Jyy4G2h6vwc6PE62gbnDbtQeqDlhu_d4CDdhZW4spMOd5x4Valhxiav4oGW19ugIc/s1600/IMG_0727+10-27-08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxJhGgsgrEr6kyVXdCgw547hnFKVL9wmcOMcHjuqAwTk_F6qVW3pCg9PzdmCLXpwjynSKZkn_gf2Jyy4G2h6vwc6PE62gbnDbtQeqDlhu_d4CDdhZW4spMOd5x4Valhxiav4oGW19ugIc/s1600/IMG_0727+10-27-08.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Life is full of surprises. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Good and bad.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But, it is full. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And whatever our circumstances,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">we are called to have hearts full of gratefulness.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuztzzmv3Z9EcpZZSue7v3Iw73Fv2XaMCkioDWEb0-md6-tVqCUGH52g8V4yDytKPkKwZgBhZ7lNsfxeLmmEXbhZ9Hv5RjvIVW7XGhjR1OYbt4GyaeHMH71HPe0dvhOKmUCG6vnexVPAc/s1600/IMG_0545+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuztzzmv3Z9EcpZZSue7v3Iw73Fv2XaMCkioDWEb0-md6-tVqCUGH52g8V4yDytKPkKwZgBhZ7lNsfxeLmmEXbhZ9Hv5RjvIVW7XGhjR1OYbt4GyaeHMH71HPe0dvhOKmUCG6vnexVPAc/s1600/IMG_0545+copy.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">To find joy and peace in the midst. </div><div style="text-align: center;">To focus on what the gifts are.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I stand in abundance today.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Grateful for my mother in my kitchen filling the bellies of my sweet children.</div><div style="text-align: center;">For my husband, solid and steady, at the fire station today. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Already a hero.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg4nTRnYmogzayEMysdKzYSmAdF5rTdk3gMvKdbDn2DKYDTUUxphXBlNpwyU8s11-5Y0UQO3nnFy7mXHs9g7J9_ClXLOX_6B7BwjeNSqtLYxKJrRwvjAiNKvYiDCkiAyMfHC_w9B4tYZQ/s1600/IMG_0537+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg4nTRnYmogzayEMysdKzYSmAdF5rTdk3gMvKdbDn2DKYDTUUxphXBlNpwyU8s11-5Y0UQO3nnFy7mXHs9g7J9_ClXLOX_6B7BwjeNSqtLYxKJrRwvjAiNKvYiDCkiAyMfHC_w9B4tYZQ/s1600/IMG_0537+copy.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">For little boys who argue and fight, but will throw leaves in the air laughing and will turn up the music loud and dance with me in the kitchen.</div><div style="text-align: center;">For family not with me who I LOVE and wish I could sit at a table with today. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Next year.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;">For light streaming through my windows.</div><div style="text-align: center;">For opportunities I would never have dreamed of asking for. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUm3TjvV8156dRS-UfYXCvhDmriOeXnuqX4jyFz61Plqfk2MQouikIgU1DsKcgmaoGMRnx12Qhfp7x6AUPmh3o-1NYMVAIOYN0rsId_IQf2g5mfPFezpve__-QIU3lSWYhWGhyphenhyphen-6kmKxY/s1600/IMG_0536+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUm3TjvV8156dRS-UfYXCvhDmriOeXnuqX4jyFz61Plqfk2MQouikIgU1DsKcgmaoGMRnx12Qhfp7x6AUPmh3o-1NYMVAIOYN0rsId_IQf2g5mfPFezpve__-QIU3lSWYhWGhyphenhyphen-6kmKxY/s1600/IMG_0536+copy.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">For abundance, not perfection.</div><div style="text-align: center;">For life, not always easy. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">For all the little ways my God shows me His love. </div><div style="text-align: center;">The still rounded belly of my youngest.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Three generations together making stuffing at midnight. Chopping, sauteing, breathing in the moment.</div><div style="text-align: center;">An encouraging word from a friend or a stranger.</div><div style="text-align: center;">A sunrise of fresh created colors. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI8c7KFXfND4q5FW8V84DlfobCnIT-EhHYg_hgNOvqqo0jInti05HHkhyphenhyphenjeHZqTt5DfLjxx66FKBgmXFRSKGJZAPR5K2-WuEIviMwukngkIDYOLfdzIbY4BVX4hh_HQ_Iw8FUQBa8PtEY/s1600/IMG_0531+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI8c7KFXfND4q5FW8V84DlfobCnIT-EhHYg_hgNOvqqo0jInti05HHkhyphenhyphenjeHZqTt5DfLjxx66FKBgmXFRSKGJZAPR5K2-WuEIviMwukngkIDYOLfdzIbY4BVX4hh_HQ_Iw8FUQBa8PtEY/s1600/IMG_0531+copy.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Abundance.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Gratefulness. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Seeing it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Drinking it in. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC13ubojZhDzDI8knrCmmJmob3Knx9aPdJj3Kk8VdrSPH_QPxb4YPXQCvimWqpFZxxLAZ61TxXsA3khoy0yDvfz33FeNY2bhtQ4bQu47tJRNo7fCs5nj8xf0YsdcPhVKcnjAo_u3l6fGw/s1600/IMG_0727+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC13ubojZhDzDI8knrCmmJmob3Knx9aPdJj3Kk8VdrSPH_QPxb4YPXQCvimWqpFZxxLAZ61TxXsA3khoy0yDvfz33FeNY2bhtQ4bQu47tJRNo7fCs5nj8xf0YsdcPhVKcnjAo_u3l6fGw/s1600/IMG_0727+copy.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">May your heart overflow with gratefulness today. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A gift all its own.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I ordered this Family Rules sign from <a href="http://tarahlowry.blogspot.com/2010/02/blog-post.html">Tara & Andrew Lowry.</a> They did a phenomenal job creating a sign with our personal family rules. I love it. A daily reminder to us and our children, just who we are. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Happy Thanksgiving Friends. </div><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/146/E62B00EF94B0F1F93B4E2862F26CCE32.png" style="background: 0% 50%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; moz-background-origin: -moz-initial;" /></a>Brigetta Schwaigerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15160073455357316887noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4386190112641735734.post-42357955113737750152011-11-13T20:59:00.000-08:002011-11-13T20:59:04.792-08:00Fall In Review, Winter's DebutSnowflakes are softly falling outside my window. It's not of the sticking kind yet, but winter is certainly weaving its way in and making sure fall finds the exit door.<br />
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Spring in California was always my favorite season. I loved the flowers blooming, the warmer weather and jasmine blossoms in the night air. Spring in Montana is yuck— wet, grey, cold.<br />
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But, fall here is magnificent and it's now my new favorite season.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiecwvtczhCkqaFqiawSdM6m69FOlEkDpIRgZRNwhyphenhyphenixX8swArehFtUaL9qwbPCMSltqTu33byvlq13lrTfvnomxta9NoFv5-mvIbtwv_thWLg6Dn5Wl-m6SjcWdb9whFiJbv42_eeOyOY/s1600/IMG_0434+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiecwvtczhCkqaFqiawSdM6m69FOlEkDpIRgZRNwhyphenhyphenixX8swArehFtUaL9qwbPCMSltqTu33byvlq13lrTfvnomxta9NoFv5-mvIbtwv_thWLg6Dn5Wl-m6SjcWdb9whFiJbv42_eeOyOY/s1600/IMG_0434+copy.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">As we welcome winter <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">only because it means we get to ski</span>, I wanted to share some photos of our fall. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The pumpkin patch...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQSvcLoFBKGrwTz2B7-3OIrPVYiIJAtA_sWPys0IatS7RNelU84uAMaqm3vA1kDZGGRH1RbplYtZE4jUGSA1iQuUFRF4uY5cGjDc4TEI0krbHliq8fG_J_ZHr7Z3MLZg5RwKbh_x8eO0E/s1600/IMG_0548+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQSvcLoFBKGrwTz2B7-3OIrPVYiIJAtA_sWPys0IatS7RNelU84uAMaqm3vA1kDZGGRH1RbplYtZE4jUGSA1iQuUFRF4uY5cGjDc4TEI0krbHliq8fG_J_ZHr7Z3MLZg5RwKbh_x8eO0E/s1600/IMG_0548+copy.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And Halloween...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjMI6dLuYroswZU-1VuiLeYAZ80S87mfFC8BxWqFPij3GPU4FBZrlUjMGa0Ph9dc5kkLaIdA5DS43eMANNAbBhVDV2JrdSONapnzbSRUU6hFm7rdS0YEoaPpoAD2Gev09JTv5xxvzxfvg/s1600/IMG_0630+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjMI6dLuYroswZU-1VuiLeYAZ80S87mfFC8BxWqFPij3GPU4FBZrlUjMGa0Ph9dc5kkLaIdA5DS43eMANNAbBhVDV2JrdSONapnzbSRUU6hFm7rdS0YEoaPpoAD2Gev09JTv5xxvzxfvg/s640/IMG_0630+copy.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Seriously, how clever is that <i>JACK in the Box. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpCwueQOBhx-bGvk1AvQG6G_pVEe6aGNq6jwUqPQDMOXmpeMAQzoDwLFm2ch-vQViDFk_gPZmBNzQNOJw-u-OEsSz0LwRLoUIxUm0IH7CRsYDQx5-I-iO0ToYezeBbiciN2quCKWqGbXg/s1600/IMG_0621.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpCwueQOBhx-bGvk1AvQG6G_pVEe6aGNq6jwUqPQDMOXmpeMAQzoDwLFm2ch-vQViDFk_gPZmBNzQNOJw-u-OEsSz0LwRLoUIxUm0IH7CRsYDQx5-I-iO0ToYezeBbiciN2quCKWqGbXg/s1600/IMG_0621.JPG" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">And my sister made the lion costume years ago when her twins were two (they are 15 now). </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguHb6Tyq7da5ODOYvkdq0zxb-rOEhM4ERsFR1Fd2ahNznos9FBPbKV5LOhTIAh2irGYyvfN7Wt9QK28tocwIDLcekVMviZr4eNvEFFSK2yS3Szq_hR2fFG21Fq8ISmvZwL3rx04OHK8As/s1600/IMG_0619+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguHb6Tyq7da5ODOYvkdq0zxb-rOEhM4ERsFR1Fd2ahNznos9FBPbKV5LOhTIAh2irGYyvfN7Wt9QK28tocwIDLcekVMviZr4eNvEFFSK2yS3Szq_hR2fFG21Fq8ISmvZwL3rx04OHK8As/s1600/IMG_0619+copy.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">My glue gun is my friend. It helped me make this toothpaste costume.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_55Zw6Ns72sUtTIR_smCtZjIiExZB5NAKmTuqUEQYUhZjpDv4VX3LDal6Z5dzSbWsEgIlxsQtDCRaY8OXQXlQlyghj0rvUYyBCsGNitkUFVhLsV0AEoSBnmNisHxeJJou1863klvppF0/s1600/IMG_0607+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_55Zw6Ns72sUtTIR_smCtZjIiExZB5NAKmTuqUEQYUhZjpDv4VX3LDal6Z5dzSbWsEgIlxsQtDCRaY8OXQXlQlyghj0rvUYyBCsGNitkUFVhLsV0AEoSBnmNisHxeJJou1863klvppF0/s640/IMG_0607+copy.jpg" width="358" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">So goodbye fall...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimn2T0g55bRJn-iadXclYLwbKBBcR3RsHfO22BYyfsxqJYaEzZeLwFrk_H8vVTDY3wqhHiFrWArhoy8qhBabUDl9lUMPIi8HBFH_pd7RIaCZwCsNwtvtksnSU3Zb5v0gv7rQMYJ7F327Q/s1600/IMG_0536+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimn2T0g55bRJn-iadXclYLwbKBBcR3RsHfO22BYyfsxqJYaEzZeLwFrk_H8vVTDY3wqhHiFrWArhoy8qhBabUDl9lUMPIi8HBFH_pd7RIaCZwCsNwtvtksnSU3Zb5v0gv7rQMYJ7F327Q/s1600/IMG_0536+copy.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">We will miss you.</div><br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/146/E62B00EF94B0F1F93B4E2862F26CCE32.png" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: 0% 50%; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-color: initial; border-bottom-style: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-color: initial; border-left-style: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-color: initial; border-right-style: initial; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-color: initial; border-top-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px;" /></a>Brigetta Schwaigerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15160073455357316887noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4386190112641735734.post-82180847686011467372011-11-02T14:34:00.000-07:002011-11-02T16:22:43.131-07:00Three Secrets to A Healthy MarriageI wrote that title with my tongue firmly planted in my cheek. Not because I don't feel I have any authority to speak on this issue, but because it sounds like I'm writing a Family Circle or Woman's Day article. A little corny.<br />
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Today is my 15 year wedding anniversary with Hottie Husband and I think making it that long and truly being happy for the breadth of it, does give me some authority and wisdom in this area. We have recently watched marriages crumble around us and it is just so sad. I don't have another word for it.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx6X1g8zWBHp_8MTZUGXHCAkzyAoEm4x1QmsX9gsfx9yvpnCHEWNdMKrh33GK4XrEz7VN8LRboutJCaXJAehR8r6xVOMh6uS81qB2ToFuCrvToN_-wqLeLLjtkcE9jTDnDv9uWAVEIUt8/s1600/IMG_0006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx6X1g8zWBHp_8MTZUGXHCAkzyAoEm4x1QmsX9gsfx9yvpnCHEWNdMKrh33GK4XrEz7VN8LRboutJCaXJAehR8r6xVOMh6uS81qB2ToFuCrvToN_-wqLeLLjtkcE9jTDnDv9uWAVEIUt8/s400/IMG_0006.jpg" width="397" /></a></div>
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My heart is to share what helps, what works, how letting go of "self" is the only way to flourish.<br />
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So here are my handy dandy marriage tips–<br />
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1) <b>Give up your right to be right. </b>It's not worth it. How can being right in a discussion or argument possibly help? It doesn't. Instead, brush right past the "who is right" part and look for a different way to make it work. You might be thinking... but, then he'll always think he's right... REALLY? So what! Just think how happy he'll be. And really, try to avoid those kinds of arguments anyway. It gets you nowhere. Honestly, I don't even remember the last time we had a discussion involving a scenario where we were trying to be the one who is "right."<br />
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2) <b>Respect and Love Circle- </b>Here is where my husband keeps us on track. Years ago, he heard a talk on Christian radio about respect and love in marriage. You may be totally familiar with this, but for those of you who aren't, the short version is that men really, really want respect and women really, really want love. But, there is this catchy circle in a marriage that if a man is not feeling like his wife respects him, he's not going to show her the love and then she will be even more likely to put him down, treat him without any respect, ect. and then he will pull away the love even more. Of course, it can also start with him not showing love, her feeling unloved, lashing out, he feels like he's not respected, and things get ugly.<br />
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The solution. Stop the cycle. Somebody has to do it. Respond with respect. Tell him how proud you are of the work he does, how great he is with the kids, how you see him working so hard to provide for your family. To be honest, I get a little (just a little) feisty and riled up about things sometimes. Do you know what my husband does? He stops me, he kisses me, he tells me how much he loves me. And stubborn girl that I am, I think, "Oh, he's doing that love thing." But, it always works.<br />
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3) <b>Accountability</b>. This one is our lifeline. You cannot just be accountable to yourself or your spouse. For us, we both know that the other is accountable to God for our actions. This is in the big things as well as the small things. Infidelity may be a sin, but so is anger.<br />
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It also means letting go of trying to fix each other. We are only in charge of ourselves. I'll say that again— <i>We are only in charge of ourselves. </i>Neither of us is perfect; but God is constantly working on both of us. And that's a comfort. It means we don't have to work to fix each other. We can rest in the knowledge that God is in it with us.<br />
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Here's last year's <a href="http://transparentmama.blogspot.com/2010/11/my-wedding.html">post about my wedding </a>with lots of photos of that day.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">And please don't get me wrong, I know things can be complicated and hard and I may have it easy, but if even a small portion of this makes things a little better, provokes thought or helps a newlywed, then that's a good thing I think. </span><br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/146/E62B00EF94B0F1F93B4E2862F26CCE32.png" style="background: 0% 50%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; moz-background-origin: -moz-initial;" /></a>Brigetta Schwaigerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15160073455357316887noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4386190112641735734.post-50449047815577480252011-10-28T11:04:00.000-07:002011-10-28T11:04:14.733-07:00Spurs<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7qX83BN9i9YT3qwUwqks9yjtYVHnRPIhdOHNuaS55v88VgpHoqVBFZI0yjIMHW0COrPQJXXgnT3XSNJt-X8oJElogKESi-FSuiK0W0QjnABK8aiLHebRJTcTebHeiCSf9shaoH2IxfW0/s1600/unnamed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7qX83BN9i9YT3qwUwqks9yjtYVHnRPIhdOHNuaS55v88VgpHoqVBFZI0yjIMHW0COrPQJXXgnT3XSNJt-X8oJElogKESi-FSuiK0W0QjnABK8aiLHebRJTcTebHeiCSf9shaoH2IxfW0/s1600/unnamed.jpg" /></a>I think Montana has had a creative effect on me. Since moving here, I've written a novel, created an online magazine and now I'm launching a business with a dear friend. And we already have more clients than we imagined.<br />
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You can check us out <a href="http://www.flygirlsmedia.com/">here</a> if you feel nosy : ). We are still under construction and launching this week, but crazy super fun busy.<br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>All of this has interrupted my personal blogging time. And I miss you guys. </i></div>
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Can I tell you that I would've never gotten here without being first a mom blogger? It is the creativity I've witnessed by other women and mothers across blogland that has spurred me on. It has caused me to want to know more, create better photographs, form friendships with women I may never see face to face, paint furniture, cook beautiful food and be a better mother.<br />
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So this is my little thank you note. Thank you for being the women you are. Thank you for being creative, pushing the limits, using social media for good, and for being authentic. Thanks for spurring me on by being your best selves.<br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/146/E62B00EF94B0F1F93B4E2862F26CCE32.png" style="background: 0% 50%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; moz-background-origin: -moz-initial;" /></a>Brigetta Schwaigerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15160073455357316887noreply@blogger.com2