tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-48032700742750661282024-02-20T02:15:27.591-05:00In Love With A Soldier...My journey through life as an Army wifemrs.griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14247066173375178917noreply@blogger.comBlogger110125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4803270074275066128.post-16999916813773435422012-06-22T23:16:00.001-04:002012-06-22T23:16:30.065-04:004 months and counting...<em><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">It has been quite a while since I showed my face around here...there have been a lot of changes in my world as of late. My Soldier has been deployed for almost 4 months, it seems like 6 already. Second deployment is much like I anticipated, dreading the things I know are to come and waiting for them to occur... at the same time, I've found that there is peace in knowing no news is good news and the sun really does rise each morning, despite how long the nights are. More about deployment later.... what I really wanted to share with everyone is the reason I've been gone so long. </span></em><em><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I realize I have to catch you up in warp speed... so here we go. </span></em><br />
<br />
<em><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">My hubby left early in March, and I wanted nothing more than to be the brave, independent wife who kissed him goodbye and stood strong until he was out of sight before the tears fell. But it didn't really work out that way. Night before the send off I was up allll night sick. My amazing husband stayed up with me for hours, only getting 3 hours of sleep before his long travels. I was a mess that morning, crying every five seconds and wondering how in the world I would survive the day.. after reporting on base, we had a couple hours to pass. We walked around and tried to talk about anything but the looming goodbye ahead. And then I got sick again. and again. and again. Isn't there something about Murphy's Deployment Law? You WILL get the flu or have something inconvenient and horrid happen on every send off, R&R or welcome home ceremony. Well its true. My Soldier tried his best to convince me to drop him off early and go home, but I refused. I'd rather spend my last hours ralphing on the side of the road than leave him for a year knowing I had 2 more hours.... the send off came and went, I was miserable but it didn't kill me. If anything, being sick distracted me from the gut wretching pain that makes its mark on you when your heart walks across the flight line and takes off into the horizon....</span></em><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><em>My best friend and fellow marine milspouse held my hand that day, and through the next week as my symptoms continued to plague me like the flu with avengance. I dismissed the nagging questions lurking in my heart and chalked it up to exhaustion, stress and heartbreak. Until a week later, when a surge of bravery took over and I had to know. It was 8 days after my soldier deployed that I sat on our bathroom floor and bawled my eyes out.</em> </span><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>We are having a baby. a precious little baby that we tried and waited for so long. and now my husband was gone. gone to celebrate the news, quiet my fears and assure me that this was God's perfect timing despite my panic. but most of all, my husband was gone for 12 months. without an assurance of R&R or even where he would be... <span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">For those of you who are faithful readers despite my 4 month absence, you understand the significance of this news after reading <a href="http://mrsgriffin0711.blogspot.com/2011/10/if-im-asked-onemoretime.html">this</a> post... I was beside myself with the news, so I called my best friend to cry it out and then waited a day to tell My Soldier. I didn't know how to share the most amazing and yet heartbreaking news over the phone... but we were able to skype the next night and I burst into tears and told him. He was so happy and excited, he actually teared up. ( I have NEVER seen him cry, not at funerals, not when he left me last deployment, NEVER!) It was a precious moment that I will never forget. He has been more excited than I've been.</span></em></span><br />
<br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Which leads me to my <strike>excuse</strike> explaination of why I haven't been around since learning this news... I have never, ever, EVER been so sick in my life. The first 16.5 weeks have been filled with nothing short of 14 hours a day of sleeping ( and sometimes more!), ralphing every ten minutes day and night, headaches, body aches and wondering how on earth women actually WANT to do this again. I am SO excited to hold my precious baby in my arms and become a family of 3, but I cannot fathom how anyone actually enjoys this process called pregnancy. Its more like a process of torture... I tried everything from ginger chews and saltines, to seabands and peppermint aroma therapy, to gingerteas to prescribed meds. Nothing was the cure. A temporary slight relief at best. But praise the Lord above, last week I finally woke up and made it 3 hours before yacking. And the next day it was only 2-3 times instead of 8. And before the end of the week I woke up and had an entire DAY without getting sick! The slight nausea feeling hasn't quite passed, but I am counting my blessings. I can actually clean the house, shower and do something outside of the house all in one day! </span></em><br />
<br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">I promise to be more faithful at posting, if anything to keep you updated on the baby....</span></em><br />
<br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">For now here's your update:</span></em><br />
<br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">*17 weeks 5 days</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">*weight gain 5 lbs</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">*fleeting "butterfly" moments of the little one squirming</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">* We find out the gender next week, I am SO excited to know! We all think pink, but I am a little skeptical because our family trackrecord- the Griffins are all boys!!</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">*craving- sugar. I am trying to fight it. I think after 16.5 weeks of eating nothing, I am wanting to inhale all things sugar and tasty!</span></em><br />
<br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Stay tuned!</span></em><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqs-cuwSBwQhIjtC9QOQ59ilqFlUC1x_kUo3Sl6iXoNOJNktoRk8-JQjusLBbs45AGhFHQLRE3BaJ-F3XYbkVKwlfCiaQToPx2E4dTuYVSKxKwh8nEb3i8R7Py4vaCqLoKQZwiY6Hg7yma/s1600/DSCN7161.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqs-cuwSBwQhIjtC9QOQ59ilqFlUC1x_kUo3Sl6iXoNOJNktoRk8-JQjusLBbs45AGhFHQLRE3BaJ-F3XYbkVKwlfCiaQToPx2E4dTuYVSKxKwh8nEb3i8R7Py4vaCqLoKQZwiY6Hg7yma/s320/DSCN7161.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<center><img src="http://j.imagehost.org/0967/signature.png" /></center>mrs.griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14247066173375178917noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4803270074275066128.post-58978233089033371832012-03-14T22:08:00.001-04:002012-03-14T22:11:36.769-04:00And so it begins...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivmzush6Dy90vTcj_mrtwsN_Tg9HvYOatURr8KklQh90rk7hhvTfqF1pvp4y1RGOYfgJdkA0-LWnRB0o6RlVqknsuIDsbT2M8KRoWm4179A7GMPrJWl7FP8cBTv1hrTdJ07AiuXZ7O5-eX/s1600/K.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivmzush6Dy90vTcj_mrtwsN_Tg9HvYOatURr8KklQh90rk7hhvTfqF1pvp4y1RGOYfgJdkA0-LWnRB0o6RlVqknsuIDsbT2M8KRoWm4179A7GMPrJWl7FP8cBTv1hrTdJ07AiuXZ7O5-eX/s640/K.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<center><img src="http://j.imagehost.org/0967/signature.png" /></center>mrs.griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14247066173375178917noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4803270074275066128.post-47257043060867223582012-02-23T14:23:00.000-05:002012-02-23T14:23:05.198-05:00Crazy In the Head<div style="text-align: center;">Deployment makes you go crazy.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Before. During. After.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Legit Crazy.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">If you've ever experience deployment, you'll know what I'm talking about.</div><div style="text-align: center;">If you haven't, well I hope you never have to.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Dreams-</strong> Where in the heck to the wacked dreams <em>COME</em> from?</div><div style="text-align: center;"> I can understand the insane dreams of ninja terrorists breaking into your house, killing the dog and kidnapping you to bribe your soldier for information. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Or the ones where you miss the send off and suddenly realize that you won't see your soldier for an entire year and you don't understand what happened or why he couldn't say goodbye.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>The nightmares, I expect. I hate them but I understand.</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">But, what about the ones where you find yourself in a foreign country trying to find your soldier and there are ten thousand uniforms and all the faces are blurred out and you can't find yours no matter how hard you try. You scream and scream and call for him but he doesn't answer...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Or the ones where your front door gets stuck and you can't open it for all your worth and the dog has to go out and contemplate shoving her out the window. and then the aspca comes and takes her away becase your neighbor saw you throw her out the window.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">(so this may be an actual concern, seeing as how our door keeps getting stuck and I am not strong even to open it!)</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Or, let's just talk about the crazy hormones going on. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em>S.T.R.E.S.S</em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;">What if I forget to change the oil in the car? What if I send our house into financial ruin?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>Pizza for dinner. I should have made his favorite, I'm a terrible wife.</em></div><div style="text-align: center;">Don't ask for his help on this, you have to learn to do it alone.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>He asks for another cupcake, I say no because they are for the party. He says, isn't it my party? Yes- but I don't want you to eat them now. Ten minutes later on the floor in a puddle of tears, he promises he didn't really want a second cupcake but says he'll eat five if I will stop crying.</em></div><div style="text-align: center;">I'm annoyed at him for throwing dirty laundry in the basket of clean towels. and out of nowhere the thought flies into my head, it'll be so much easier when he isn't here to make a mess!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong> </strong>And then the hysterical tears of guilt.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Oh, the guilt. Have mercy.</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;">I ran an errand when he was home. I missed 3 hours I could have spent with him. </div><div style="text-align: center;">I shouldn't have stayed up to watch American Idol, I should have gone to bed with him....</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I've got to get out of my own head.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I am going <em>crazy!</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><br />
<center><img src="http://j.imagehost.org/0967/signature.png" /></center>mrs.griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14247066173375178917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4803270074275066128.post-23233195152635284602012-02-12T10:44:00.001-05:002012-02-12T16:24:12.322-05:00WE: not me vs. you.<div style="text-align: center;"><em>"Hatred stirs up quarrels, but love overs all offenses."</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Proverbs 10:12</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">There has been a lot of smoke around the milspouse blogging world as of late. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Most of you know what I am talking about. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I had to wait a couple days before writing this post, because I knew in my heart of hearts- that my ugly flesh would come roaring out if I did not allow the Spirit flood in.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I am addressing it, not to fuel the fire. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Not to defend my husband or my role as an Army Guard Wife.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Not to confront or put someone in there place.</div><div style="text-align: center;">And certainly not to spread gossip.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">But I do think it needs to be addressed.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Because this kind of bickering and backlash tears a body down.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">And aren't we all one body?</span></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;">Don't we all serve for one common goal? </div><div style="text-align: center;">Didn't we all recite the same pledge and creed? </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">It is no secret, that in the military world each branch is distinct.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Army.Marine.Navy.AirForce.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Active.Guard.Reserve.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">And we all know the jokes. the poking at each other. </div><div style="text-align: center;"> "marine jarheads",</div><div style="text-align: center;"> "ain't ready for marines yet army", </div><div style="text-align: center;"> "sailors who don't swim" </div><div style="text-align: center;">"air conditioned airforce".... </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I would be lying if I said they've never been spoken in my household.</div><div style="text-align: center;">You'd be lying if you did, because we all say them.</div><div style="text-align: center;">And we all laugh. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">But at the end of the day, whether I'm talking to my best friend whose husband is a deployed Marine,</div><div style="text-align: center;">or my co-worker whose husband and son are in the Air Force,</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>We are all in this TOGETHER.</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="font-size: large;">We may not walk the same steps, but we walk the same path.</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Its true, that I cannot relate to PCSing or moving across country.</div><div style="text-align: center;">But I do know the struggle of deployment without knowing another milspouse nearby to confide in.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I don't have to worry about My Soldier deploying every other year. </div><div style="text-align: center;">I worry deployment every <em>two years. </em>because our guard unit is the most deployed unit in our state.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">The longest stretch (aside from deployment) that I've gone without My Soldier is a 3-4 month school.<br />
But we've never known a one weekend a month, two weeks a year schedule. <em>ever.</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><em><span style="font-size: x-small;">in fact we've been training for this deployment since four months after last deployment,</span></em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em><span style="font-size: x-small;"> and we already have alerts for the next deployment before this one even starts.</span></em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I don't call it a BX, I call it a PX. even though the only one in a 50 mile radius is technically a BX.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I don't understand the Marine ranking system. </div><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size: x-small;">(my best friend and I try and figure out what means what in "our" branch....its really funny actually.)</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">The list could go on and on and on...</div><div style="text-align: center;">Because we are different.</div><div style="text-align: center;">But we are also the same.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">When we start walking towards that place where we compare and try to exalt ourselves against our brothers and sisters...thats a dangerous place to be in.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">As you can imagine, military spouses are STRONG. </div><div style="text-align: center;">We have to be. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">We</span></strong> learn to brave a smile when our love in uniform kisses us for the last time in X months and walks away leaving us standing alone...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">We</span> </strong>take on dual parenting.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">We</span></strong> learn to mow the lawn or shovel the driveway.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong>We</strong> </span>take over finances.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">We</span></strong> sleep in a big empty bed.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">We</span> </strong>wait all day for 5 minutes of delayed fragmented phone calls.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">We</span> </strong>study for promotions and boards.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">We</span></strong> memorize ranks.<br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">We</span></strong> learn acronyms.<br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">We</span></strong> encourage and support our uniform.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>When did <strong><span style="font-size: large;">we</span></strong> become me vs. you?</em></div><div style="text-align: center;">When did details break down a community of support and acceptance?</div><div style="text-align: center;">When did difference become distance, and camaraderie become competition?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I won't deny my initial reaction to this spiral of controversy.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I was hurt. Offended. Outraged.</div><div style="text-align: center;">As I should have. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">But what does quarreling accomplish?</div><div style="text-align: center;">Nothing.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">My sister said it best <a href="http://jakofhearts.wordpress.com/2012/02/09/belittled-and-bullied/">here</a>, that every uniform, regardless of branch, regardless of rank,</div><div style="text-align: center;">stands shoulder to shoulder to defend our country and uphold their oath.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>Shouldn't we as milspouse's follow their lead?</em> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<center><img src="http://j.imagehost.org/0967/signature.png" /></center>mrs.griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14247066173375178917noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4803270074275066128.post-9849581182262283562012-02-09T08:53:00.000-05:002012-02-09T08:53:41.790-05:00Confessions<em>My lovely </em><a href="http://jakofhearts.wordpress.com/2012/02/06/confessions/"><em>Kate</em></a><em> posted about "Confessions" the other day, so I thought I'd join in and make her feel better about her fear of checking voicemail....</em><br />
<br />
* I am petrified of the dentist. I'm not sure when my phobia developed, my mom always took me as a kid and as far as I remember, nothing traumatizing happened. (but then, maybe I am blocking it) <br />
I won't go without my hubby. even its just an x-ray. I've rescheduled having my wisdom teeth out twice. somehow I feel the throbbing pain is easier to handle...<br />
<br />
* Feet creep me out. I hate them. I wash mine every night before I get into bed and have even been known to bring my sleeping husband a washcloth to wash his off so that if he accidental brushes my leg its clean. I need help, I know.<br />
<br />
* I love school supplies. Every August when stores make their big going-back-to-school display, I check it out for deals. I usually come home with a variety of notebooks and colored pens. Oh- I graduated 3 years ago...<br />
<br />
* If I could live in a black and white world, I probably would. Don't get me wrong, I love color. Its splashed all over my house. But there is just something classic and elegant about black and white. <br />
<br />
* I have never taken my car through a car wash or for an oil change. I always make my husband do it. Because I'm scared I won't line my tires up correctly and fall through the floor. don't laugh. I have nightmares.<br />
<br />
* I love all things sweet. Chocolate, candy, cookies, frosting. I should join a support program. My saving grace is I ban them from the house. well minus the chocolate. what girl can live without dove?<br />
<br />
* I'm a total type A personality, but I am a procrastinator at heart.and always 10 minutes late. makes sense right?<br />
<br />
* Things I don't like make me nauseous. Legit, nauseous. And not just scary things like spiders or snakes. the color orange. feet. things that don't match. the bathtub drain.<br />
<br />
* My worst fear in life is being "stuck". and no I can't really explain that. <br />
<br />
<br />
<em> So now that I've made Kate feel better about her fear of voicemail... someone make me feel better about my fear of the car wash?</em><br />
<br />
<br />
<center><img src="http://j.imagehost.org/0967/signature.png" /></center><center> </center>mrs.griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14247066173375178917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4803270074275066128.post-46418408317702167042012-02-07T11:08:00.000-05:002012-02-07T11:08:50.995-05:00The D- Word<div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";">It’s time again. Time for calendars and countdowns, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";">checklists and to-do’s….<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";">We’ve known it was coming for a while….it was just the time frame that kept changing. Pushed up, pushed back. Original date. New date. </span><span style="font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";">That’s the army way.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";">I feel like I’m doing pretty well considering. I can talk about it without having an emotional breakdown in public. And people keep asking me how I’m “dealing” and I find a quirky answer about being “army strong” and “soldiering on”… most days that’s fairly true. <br />
But others, not so much.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";">It’s a whole new ball game this time around. I’ve done the whole long-distance, where-in-the-world-is-Waldo , talk once a week for 5 minutes and 22 seconds bit… only last time was our first deployment and I was blissfully ignorant to the suck I was about to embrace. And I was living at home with my parents and my best friend was in the same shoes. </span><span style="font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";">And I was in school. And working full-time. And busy busy busy. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";">Round Two is a little more daunting it seems…. living alone in a brand new, big empty house with a puppy who gives kisses but can’t talk back…working from home most days and having lots of free time and long nights…my best friend clear across country(literally) and my oldest friend, though just reaching the end of her first deployment - she has a baby and is in a different phase of life right now...</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";">Everyone<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know that is facing deployment has a different perspective… they are not worried about whether their dog will ever eat again and how to stop the incessant whining at the door when he’s not home. And then there is the fact that I know exactly what is coming, and I don’t like what I see…<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";">So, here is my fair warning of the whining that’s sure to come. Don’t get me wrong, I am so very proud of my soldier and I am so blessed to have the life we do- military and all…But, I’m still dreading what’s just around the corner waiting for us. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";">For some reason, I have it in my head that this one is the worst. First time- ignorance can be bliss- third time seems like one would feel like you’ve conquered the challenge before and survived. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";"><br />
But right there in the middle…. That’s what has got me a little worried. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";">Are any of you up for your second deployment? What keeps you distracted and focused on enjoying the time at hand? <o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";">I’ve heard both sides: start new hobbies, join a club, volunteer for an organization…vs… this is not a time to add stress and take on the world, maintain your schedule, stay busy but don’t add to your plate just yet… What do you think? Any suggestions?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";">At the end of the day, I know that my Lord is in control.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He knows when My Soldier and I will be saying our “see you laters” and where he will be going and how long he’ll be away and whether we will get an R&R. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";">He knows all things and all things work together for the good to those who love Him.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";">So if I start to lose sight of that truth, will someone please remind me?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";">I’d like to try and pull this off with a little grace. Not a lot, but a little…<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<br />
<br />
<center><img src="http://j.imagehost.org/0967/signature.png" /></center>mrs.griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14247066173375178917noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4803270074275066128.post-30128996434211301522012-01-06T09:05:00.000-05:002012-01-06T09:05:59.879-05:00Hopeful<div style="text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My </span><a href="http://jakofhearts.wordpress.com/2012/01/04/one-word/"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">sister</span></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> recently posted about her </span><a href="http://oneword365.com/"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">word for 2012</span></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">…and it got me thinking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the past few months I have associated many words and descriptions for this year...</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Words like<em> Panic. Deployment. Fear. Dread. Countdown. Alone. </em></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These words have been trapped in my mind, tossed about and thrown into focus at any random moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They have kept me from resting in His presence and being joyful in the time that I have. But no more. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>New Year’s came and went, and I realized that I didn’t fall apart. That the earth didn’t shatter beneath my feet and the waves didn’t swallow me up. Neither did it change anything- those words are still there… but I’m still standing. And I’ve discovered a new word. An unexpected revelation for this year. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Hopeful. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Hopeful doesn’t mean no tears. It doesn’t mean my countdown reversed. It doesn’t mean that I am not fearful. And it doesn’t mean that I have a tingly excitement of something new.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, this is what it DOES mean:</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Hopeful means that <strong>Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow and 3 months from now, My Lord is the same.</strong> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 195.75pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Hopeful means new opportunities and advancement for the Kingdom.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 195.75pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Hopeful means that I am never truly alone. <strong>Because He knows where I am</strong>. In the day and </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 195.75pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>during the night.</em> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 195.75pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Hopeful is the promise of what is to come… the truth He has a prosperous and successful future for me. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 195.75pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Hopeful is knowing that “neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord”.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 195.75pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">HOPEFUL means that these other words can’t control me any longer. <em>Because you can’t hope in the Lord and be chained to the devil.</em> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 195.75pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Will you be hopeful with me?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 195.75pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> Whatever your situation is, whether you awake with dread each day or feel like you’re stuck in a pit of despair… or can’t see through the glass clearly and fear what lies ahead…</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 195.75pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Will you chose to be hopeful? </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 195.75pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And if you’re caught in a moment where you aren’t sure you have it in you, look UP.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s always hope when you look up…<o:p> </o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 195.75pt; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGVhRNIAfhM7wQvCNKyOAfxClghQg3UQGfPwY2P4tA7OvJInz-firncYTqwa0MKHMZ9JGDz-E1aCTe9V0UztSwy8TYQ01QaGaF6B_Wq7Vi3NAIcV_czXBhCMwDCZBwCB_0WUVTQJefz-WQ/s1600/balloons%252520and%252520sky.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGVhRNIAfhM7wQvCNKyOAfxClghQg3UQGfPwY2P4tA7OvJInz-firncYTqwa0MKHMZ9JGDz-E1aCTe9V0UztSwy8TYQ01QaGaF6B_Wq7Vi3NAIcV_czXBhCMwDCZBwCB_0WUVTQJefz-WQ/s320/balloons%252520and%252520sky.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 195.75pt; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgebuV_7Nh_iyfaY57xRHG9JleTMtnf70KNVUmaouLsfe5W1snTBqFgmRRlLYIiVSA7vl-rDJs-6-uYUI7246pWKJax0EedclWgCqhJ2QbEh0r2Vpw_otZ3xzBDpGOpsr0_CjDSUh5lkvP/s1600/hopeful.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><center><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img src="http://j.imagehost.org/0967/signature.png" /></span></center><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></div>mrs.griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14247066173375178917noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4803270074275066128.post-1569578123486893462011-12-10T15:32:00.000-05:002011-12-10T15:32:07.487-05:00The Perfect Tree<center>My husband constantly reminds me that things don't have to be "perfect".</center><center>And I constantly remind him- oh yes, actually they do.</center><center>God knew what he was doing when he created a laid back-go with the flow- it's all good-type of guy with let's make a plan to plan-make it perfect-must be precise-can't ignore the fudged details type of gal.</center><center>And its a good thing. Because me being married to me would be catastrophic. </center><center> </center><center>But I have the best intentions. Honest. I see something and want to do my very best. </center><center>Somewhere along the line, someone must have decided perfection was attainable, because I swear I kill myself every day trying to get there. No such luck as of yet. </center><center> </center><center>So now that you know the background to my little saga and I've set the stage...here's what happened.</center><center> </center><center><strong>Hallmark Version:</strong> My Soldier FINALLY has a day off when we can get a Christmas Tree.<br />
So, as a Christmas enthusiast, I decide to make a day of it. </center><center>We'll find a local tree farm and drive out. There will be rows and rows of beautiful trees to choose from like on the Hallmark Channel. The owners will have beautiful wreathes on display and homemade donuts and hot chocolate. If it snows, they even have a horse-drawn sleigh!! </center><center>It will be a day of memories to be made and maybe finally I can get my easy-going hubby to get excited for once! He doesn't get into Christmas, or birthdays. or any holiday really...</center><center> </center><center><strong>Real Life Version: </strong>We set out for the hour drive to the tree farm I found online. </center><center>Our GPS thought it would be fun to have us do a few extra loops and swoops, </center><center>you know- 30 extra minutes of bonding time in the truck. </center><center>We finally reach our destination and pull onto the dirt road, my anticipation a mile high for the sight just over the hill. Rows and rows and rows of trees! All skinny, scrawny and all of 3 feet tall. </center><center>Not entirely what I envisioned in my perfectly planned Christmas outing. </center><center>No worries, we'll find that one perfect 6 foot tree on the lot. If it takes all day.</center><center>We parked and walked into the little store filled with sweet smelling wreathes and pine cones. <br />
There were homemade donuts, before someone ate them all. And there were hot chocolate packs if the water was hot. But still, no worries, the shop was filled with adorable ornaments, </center><center>some homemade and others collected from various shops around the local towns.</center><center> It was a Christmas ornament museum, but that would have to wait.</center><center> </center><center>Hubby of course is on a mission. We came for a tree. Divide and Conquer. Then leave.</center><center>So we found an employee and asked how it worked. </center><center>"How what works? What do you want to know?"</center><center><em>"Finding a tree...can we just have at it and drive the lot? Do you have saws? How does this work?"</em></center><center>"Saws in the red shed. Pick whatever and bring it down. We'll tag it." (and walks away)</center><center>Ok then. Off to the red shed to find a saw! 20 minutes late after evaluating each and every row of trees, none even came close to catching my eye. Tiny and scrawny.</center><center>This Christmas HAS to have a perfect tree.</center><center>Next year I can have a 3 foot one....</center><center>So back to the store we go. We'll just pretend we cut it down. Pick one of the pre-cuts that are taller.</center><center>We picked a beauty. Tagged it, paid and asked if they had a baler to tie it. <br />
"Yap. Hold on."....... "You're good." (and walks away) </center><center><em>Fabulous </em>customer service. Thank you for the <em>treasured Christmas memories</em> made... </center><center> </center><center>Finally loaded in the truck, we begin the trek home (without the GPS' help)</center><center>And I, being a perfectionist and a whiner, start to complain about my dashed dreams.</center><center>And My Soldier, being a fixer and mood lightener, starts to make jokes about Christmas traditions.</center><center>Silly ornaments, stupid irritating lights that give seizures, sticky trees and inflated gift giving...</center><center>all to try and make my unattainable vision sound less dramatic and not a "big deal"...</center><center>My mission for Christmas excitement. fail.</center><center>So I sulk. And apologize that I dragged him half way across the state for a dumb tree that we could have picked at the end of our street where they set up shop for trees and wreathes to be sold.</center><center> </center><center>I decide to shake it off and delve into dreaming of what our tree will look like with our new decorations and sparkling white lights. At home we unload, bring the tree in and set it up in our brand new stand. </center><center>Our brand new stand which doesn't work because the base is wayyyyy too big.</center><center>And my amazing hubby runs to the basement to return with several small blocked pieces of wood.</center><center>He makes a shim to support the tree and accommodate for the abnormally wide base.</center><center>Its perfect!! Perfectly smelling, perfectly straight,perfectly 6 foot beautiful Christmas tree!</center><center> </center><center>We put on the lights, the garland and decide to wait until after dinner to finish with the ornaments.</center><center>It was then that I realized, a slight, um...tilt of the tree. </center><center>Gradually, little by little sliding towards the wall. No one would ever know unless you walked across the room to admire it from another angle. But its still crooked. A crooked Christmas tree.</center><center>So what do I do? Sulk. Its not perfect, its crooked. We need to fix it. So we tried, screw bolts in tighter, turn the tree to different angle. Add another support block of wood. Nada.</center><center> </center><center>I just wanted it to be a perfect tree, for a perfect Christmas while he was home. </center><center>I wanted to look back and remember this year and smile. </center><center>And you know what my sweet husband said?</center><center><em>It is baby. It is perfect because I am with you.</em></center><center><em>We have a beautiful tree. We made memories that we'll laugh about forever.</em></center><center><em>There is nothing missing. Its perfect.</em></center><center><em></em> </center><center>And you know what? He's right. We have a perfect, crooked Christmas tree. </center><center>One I will never forget the memory of decorating it with My Soldier.</center><center>And I love it.</center><center> </center><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTTm9PNCrPwAUlE7dav56g98s_RNtBuVP2-u4SwZbtCf8v0-rkHTqyi5orRHLn_66fmWvoaTOBMfT4UXtZbN6rRsDEhpli2UF-ppkm8STMmBA76Z2lKEBjFPC8Ut-8VtoMUMRkjA4rGXV1/s1600/DSCN6545.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTTm9PNCrPwAUlE7dav56g98s_RNtBuVP2-u4SwZbtCf8v0-rkHTqyi5orRHLn_66fmWvoaTOBMfT4UXtZbN6rRsDEhpli2UF-ppkm8STMmBA76Z2lKEBjFPC8Ut-8VtoMUMRkjA4rGXV1/s320/DSCN6545.JPG" width="217px" /></a></div><center> </center><center> </center><center> </center><center><img src="http://j.imagehost.org/0967/signature.png" /></center>mrs.griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14247066173375178917noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4803270074275066128.post-66473589871075108242011-10-31T15:09:00.000-04:002011-10-31T15:09:29.223-04:00If I'm asked ONE.MORE.TIME....<center><em><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don't often get intensely personal in my posts,</span></em></center><center><em><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">mostly because, its scary.</span></em></center><center><em><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In fact, I haven't since </span></em><a href="http://mrsgriffin0711.blogspot.com/2010/06/fear.html"><em><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">this</span></em></a><em><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> post</span></em></center><center><em><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></em> </center><center><em><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's nerve-wracking to air all your secrets on public clothes-line strung up across the world for everyone to see.</span></em></center><center><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span> </center><center><em><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But a dear friend once told me that if you can name your fears, well then they aren't so big anymore. so I'm going "to punch it square in the face" and maybe it will loosen its annoying grip.</span></em></center><center><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span> </center><center><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <em>No one, and I mean</em> <em><u>no one </u>knows this. except for my best friend. (but everyone knows that not telling secrets excludes your best friend unless specified right?)</em></span></center><center><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span> </center><center><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My Soldier and I have been married almost 3 years. </span></center><center><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We're mid twenties and have years ahead of us.</span></center><center><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span> </center><center><strong><em><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and yet its EVERYONE's favorite question.</span></em></strong></center><center><em><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></em> </center><center><em><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It doesn't matter if we are in the commissary talking to the cashier, at church chatting with friends, or bumping into old aquaintances while running errands. </span></em></center><center><em><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But my favorite is when its your family. or his. </span></em></center><center><em><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That ask every.single.time.you.see.them. </span></em></center><center><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span> </center><center><em><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And I calmly smile and pull out a diffusing answer. </span></em></center><center><em><strong><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">to get them to shut up.</span></strong></em></center><center><em><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">when I really just want to flip.my.top.</span></em></center><center><em><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">like a tea kettle that has sat on a hot stovetop for a few minutes, steaming and whistling and threatening to blow. </span></em></center><center><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span> </center><center><center><span style="color: #e06666;"><strong><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">It's gonna happen. If I'm asked.ONE.MORE.TIME</span>.</span></strong></span></center><center><span style="color: #e06666;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></span></span> </center><center><span style="color: #e06666;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>"So when are you two going to start having children?"</em></span></span></center><center><span style="color: #e06666;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Don't you want to hold a cuddly little baby and know you created them?"</span></span></center><center><span style="color: #e06666;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>"You don't have any children YET?"</em></span></span></center><center><span style="color: #e06666;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Oh- are you waiting for some reason?"</span></span></center><center><span style="color: #e06666;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>"You probably just want to keep your hubby to yourself right? Just don't wait too long!"</em></span></span></center><center><span style="color: #e06666;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">" I understand, you want to wait until he's sure to be home and not deployed right? Well, you know honey- there is never any assurance if he's in for the long haul."</span></span></center><center> </center><center><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em><strong>And my favorites after I've calmly pulled out some statement like,</strong></em></span></center><center><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em> "we've got our hands full with a puppy right now!" and "we've only been married for 3 years, and we're barely mid twenties. there's no rush!" or my fall back if nothing appeases them, "well, I'd like to wait until I'm sure I won't be single parenting for the first year of their life" :</em></span></center><center> </center><center><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Oh, well I guess it is the Lord's timing. Don't worry, you'll have plenty of time to have a baby"</span></center><center>"<span style="font-family: Arial;">Oh no! Don't wait, its so much easier to have someone else to care for through deployment. Then you won't be sitting around the house lonely and miserable"</span></center><center><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Well, if all else fails- there is always adoption and you are the perfect couple to love another child as your own!"</span></center><center> </center><center><strong><em><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So I bite my tongue and smack a fake smile on my face.</span></em></strong></center><center><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em><strong>When want I really want to do is scream at them and blurt the truth.</strong></em></span></center><center> </center><center>We have tried. and tried. and tried.</center><center>And its not happening. and they say nothing is wrong. </center><center>And He doesn't want to try any more right now. so seeing a doctor again is pointless.</center><center>And every single time you ask that question you are ripping my heart open and stabbing me in the gut.</center><center>And yes, I'm happy for all of my friends who got married <em>after </em>me that are happily starting a family, thanks for pointing that out by the way. </center><center>And can you please. just. stop. talking about it.</center><center>And of course I want to carry life and see my husband in our children. </center><center>Of course I think about getting older and him leaving me all alone when he deploys again.</center><center>And I'm very well aware that you want to be a gramma. Don't you think I want to be a mother?</center><center>Can't you see that I'm at the brink of tears or fuming every time you bring it up?</center><center>And why is it, that every single person wants to announce how many of their friends are having babies right now? or have just found out that they are pregnant.</center><center> </center><center><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>I am done. I can't take it any more. </em></span></center><center><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>I don't want to talk about it. I don't want everyone to know and talk about it themselves.</em></span></center><center><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>But the asking has got to stop.</em></span></center><center><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>The pressure has got to stop.</em></span></center><center><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>Because if I'm asked ONE. MORE. TIME.</em></span></center><center> </center><center><strong><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>I might just die.</em></span></strong></center><center> </center><center> </center><center>{so much for punching fear in the face huh?}</center><center>{maybe next time...}</center><center> </center><center><img src="http://j.imagehost.org/0967/signature.png" /></center></center>mrs.griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14247066173375178917noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4803270074275066128.post-62830121653054990292011-10-28T11:03:00.000-04:002011-10-28T11:03:20.811-04:00Excel Sheets in Real Life<center><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>I wish that every sequence of military life came with a warning label.</em></span></center><center><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">This way when you start your first Christmas shopping excursions, it won't smack you upside the head in the middle of the store that Christmas is only 9 weeks away.</span></em></center><center><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">... <em>and then "next" year isn't really that far anymore ...</em></span></center><center><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></em> </center><center><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Or when you're sitting in church for Wednesday night service you won't count the chapters of our Revelation study and realize you might have to mail the recordings for him to finish it too.</span></em></center><center> </center><center><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And wouldn't it be amazing to have a warning label that all things change no matter how "official" they may be. or wait- is it that or official word is "official"? we play that side too...</span></em></center><center> </center><center><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I don't quite know what to do with myself lately. Plan and make to-do lists or take it a day at a time and wait. Fast forward or pause. Because both work. and I hate that. </span></em></center><center><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I am your classic miss type A. I have a love affair with excel spreadsheets, checking the boxes (with a pink pen, of course), schedules and lists of requirements are my happy place and I am in my fluffy comfort-zone when I know exactly.what.to.do. </span></em></center><center><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></em> </center><center><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">WARNING LABEL! </span></em></center><center> </center><center><em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">So this is where I need some feedback from my dear military wives.</span></em></center><center><em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">What are your methods for dealing with the upcoming "unknowns"? </span></em><em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">I'm accustomed to the count downs, the monthly markers and the events to check off along the way. </span></em></center><center><em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">But what about the moments in between? </span></em></center><center><em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">When you only have a glimpse of what's around the corner and you aren't liking the view? </span></em></center><center><em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">How do you make the list of "last ..." and "before</span></em> ..."<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em> moments fun and enjoyable when its a constant ticker reminding you of what is to come?</em></span></center><center> </center><center><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I pretty much feel like I'm loosing my mind these days and keeping it "under wraps" and explaining my drama isn't so easy. (you know this- we all like to pretend we're Army Strong and won't crack unless its behind closed doors)</span></em></center><center> </center><center><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> I just need to know. A or B. East or West. One way or another. </span></em></center><center><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">...because I'm a type A and I need to type A!</span></em></center><center> </center><center> </center><center><img src="http://j.imagehost.org/0967/signature.png" /></center>mrs.griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14247066173375178917noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4803270074275066128.post-30068043012338143642011-09-15T13:37:00.000-04:002011-09-15T13:37:41.344-04:00Makin' Progress<center>I have been working on adding a business page and making some updates around here...</center><center> </center><center>It's coming slow but steady.</center><center> </center><center>Check out my new page <a href="http://mrsgriffin0711.blogspot.com/p/living-dream.html">here</a>.</center><center> </center><center>And yes- stay tuned for the rest of the changes.</center><center> </center><center>Come on, you didn't really think this was a legitimate post did you?</center><center> </center><center> </center><center><img src="http://j.imagehost.org/0967/signature.png" /></center><div align="center"></div>mrs.griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14247066173375178917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4803270074275066128.post-14297993825604090802011-09-10T09:32:00.000-04:002011-09-10T09:32:17.716-04:00Somewhere between shock, panic and ticked...<center><em>I didn't sleep much last night, so forgive the jumbled speak.<br />
<br />
We got some news yesterday, I knew it was coming. <br />
But I was braced for X information and instead I was blindsided by ABC details instead.<br />
<br />
There I was standing in the Christmas Tree Shoppe with my mama when I got the call from My Soldier. He had been in briefings all day...</em></center><em><center><br />
And then the roof collapsed on my head.</center><center><br />
<em>And I feel like someone punched me in the solarplexus somewhere around 2pm and I have yet to catch my breath. </em></center><center> </center><center><em>I'm just not ready to say goodbye again. I wasn't prepared for my turn so soon...</em></center><center><em>I can't share the details of course, OPSEC.</em></center><center><em></em> </center><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><em>Could I ask my blogging family for prayers? I need some today. </em></div><br />
<em> </em> <br />
<center> </center><center><span style="color: #ea9999; font-size: large;"><em> "When our hearts do not feel that God is still in control, we must consciously dwell on the truth of the Scriptures with our minds. Our thoughts can either drain our energy and cripple us, or be a source of strength when we meditate on God's Word."</em></span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
<em><span style="color: #ea9999;"></span></em></span><br />
</center><center> <img src="http://j.imagehost.org/0967/signature.png" /></center><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
<br />
</div></em>mrs.griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14247066173375178917noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4803270074275066128.post-11688921475619203502011-08-17T18:50:00.000-04:002011-08-17T18:50:34.829-04:00Wordless Wednesday<br />
<center> </center><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe3cFlVUs2yOGj2sK2xXivzQ9Nyb266sJmb87xKaCvd2bZI_0DqEqFOkVP_2DntrStSDmsZwS2Q3utTjCVrL_dKjRYPU1mozAaPNG8ugOfm8qO83yi2ofU9YJXfTa14moCEF3fZ8lzTzuO/s1600/DSC_0159-e+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe3cFlVUs2yOGj2sK2xXivzQ9Nyb266sJmb87xKaCvd2bZI_0DqEqFOkVP_2DntrStSDmsZwS2Q3utTjCVrL_dKjRYPU1mozAaPNG8ugOfm8qO83yi2ofU9YJXfTa14moCEF3fZ8lzTzuO/s320/DSC_0159-e+copy.jpg" width="227px" /></a></div><center> </center><center>Courtesy of the lovely Dana B.</center><center><a href="http://newlywedsdiaries.blogspot.com/">http://newlywedsdiaries.blogspot.com/</a> </center><center> </center><center> </center><center><img src="http://j.imagehost.org/0967/signature.png" /></center>mrs.griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14247066173375178917noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4803270074275066128.post-81791288358661502382011-08-14T10:07:00.000-04:002011-08-14T10:07:15.838-04:00That feeling when you sign your 30 page mortgage agreement...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Yesterday I officially joined the mid-20"s club.<br />
And of course, My Soldier was MIA.<br />
Drill weekends and TDY usually fall around holidays and birthdays.<br />
Of the 4 years we've been together, we've shared just 1 birthday celebration each.<br />
That's just how it works right?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I did get a present from the Army though. <br />
A text message from my hubby saying he has 1 day to decide to re-up.<br />
24 hours to plan the next __# years... </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">His service date is in June, so we thought we had several more months.<br />
On one hand, I can not imagine a life without the military.<br />
On the other... "normal" life, with a hubby at home. always. hmm....<br />
<br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But the gut-kicker was this: re-up and get a nice little bonus. <br />
OR get out next June and he won't go on the upcoming deployment...</span></em>I think the thought of getting out gave me the butterflies more than re-enlisting,<br />
but all I got from the conversation was:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><em><strong>He could stay home next year. </strong></em>We finally got to talk about it late last night and have decided to re-up.<br />
The Lord has yet to call us somewhere else. And we both have peace about the decision.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But you know <em>that feeling when you sign your 30 page mortgage agreement...</em>it still kinda feels like that. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Because no matter how you spin it- we signed over the next ___# years of our lives.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://j.imagehost.org/0967/signature.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://j.imagehost.org/0967/signature.png" /></a></div><center style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
<br />
</center><center style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"> </center><center> </center>mrs.griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14247066173375178917noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4803270074275066128.post-57400332125633744952011-08-06T11:53:00.000-04:002011-08-06T11:53:42.561-04:00The Truth.<center><em>I've been thinking about what to write for <strike>months</strike> weeks... </em></center><center><em>For one who is never at a loss for words- I was surprised at how difficult it was to find </em></center><center><em>the words to fill an empty page after being gone so long. <br />
<br />
It seems I go back and forth between raw, honest postings of the ups and downs in life and the run of the mill- this is what I've been up to nonsense. The latter is usually easier to share.<br />
<br />
But that is not what I am going to write today. <br />
I'll be honest. <br />
<br />
I think I've been avoiding you (the blogging world), because I don't want to be submersed in the reality that many of you are still enduring deployments, lonely nights, broken down cars, single parenting and the rest of our endless bulleted list when your soldier is away. </em></center><center><em>I've tried to stay clear of reading stories that make me tear up and cling <strike>with a death grip</strike> to my soldier who I'm so blessed to have sleep beside me every night.</em></center><center><em>Kinda pathetic and selfish huh? <br />
<br />
Something in me seemed to crack a few months back, when my best friend sent her beloved Marine off to war like the rest of us. It's her first deployment. <br />
Without making this sound like "it's all about me"... it has been like reliving my own. </em></center><center><em></em> </center><center><em>And that means I am constantly aware of the <strike>monsterous typhoon</strike> cloud looming overhead. <br />
Deployment #2 is closing in.</em></center><center><em></em> </center><center><em>I know this is life. This is my duty. I love being a soldier's wife. <br />
But is it really possible to live through it again? </em></center><center><em>I feel like I used to be the most independant person I knew. I hated every single moment of deployment. But I lived. I breathed. I even admit- I had some fun adventures! <br />
I look back and remember, and I realize that I was given grace to endure it. <br />
That I was never alone. </em></center><center><em></em> </center><center><em>But I don't feel like that person anymore. <br />
I don't feel strong and independant. or carefree or go with the flow.</em></center><center><em>I feel clingy and weak and co-dependant. And must have a plan D incase A,B and C don't pan out.</em></center><center><em>I feel smaller and a little less confidant that I can do it again.</em></center><center><em> </em><center><em>I don't feel like I am qualified to fill this role anymore. <br />
Somehow I am still reeling from the roller coaster ride 2 years ago.</em></center><center><em>2 years. and I still have the nightmares.<br />
Drill weekends still bring occasional tears. a drill WEEKEND. </em></center><center><em>Didn't I used to laugh at 3 months? Like it was a breeze to endure after 13?</em></center><center><em></em> </center><center><em>Where did she go?</em></center><center><em>The one held it together, smiled bravely and said everything was fine-</em></center><center><em>just so he'd make it through his day with ease?</em></center><center><em></em> </center><center><em>I think she's still in there somewhere... but how do I find her?</em><em></em><center> </center><center><img src="http://j.imagehost.org/0967/signature.png" /></center></center></center>mrs.griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14247066173375178917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4803270074275066128.post-70544736888824860422011-05-23T10:11:00.000-04:002011-05-23T10:11:45.956-04:00Hello, My name is Mrs.Griffin and I am a horribly inconsistant blogger.<center>I feel like its a bit redundant to once again <strike>for the bagillionth time</strike> announce</center><center>my return to the blogging world....</center><center>it seems I am making a trend of such titles.</center><center> </center><center>To catch you up in <em>super-duper </em>warp speeds:</center><center> </center><center>My puppy is "the exception" to every rule known to dog owners and I have had the little miss at the vets SEVEN times this month for everything from her spay surgery going horribly wrong, to a hot spot, to a sprained leg. Poor baby. So long budget . </center><center> </center><center>I quit my 50+ hour a week finance job and started my own business. YIKES! <br />
(If this was the only thing on my list- you'd know why I have been a stranger around here...)</center><center>I am loving the life of setting my own hours and being my own boss, but that comes with lengthy days getting it kickstarted and going strong.</center><center> </center><center>My <a href="http://jakofhearts.wordpress.com/">best friend</a> in CO is PCS-ing to another time-zone. <br />
<strike>No this doesn't really affect me</strike>...except yes it does because it takes two to pack a box and plan a move. even if I'm 22 states away.</center><center> </center><center>Last week my oldest friend in the world said goodbye to her Marine for 12 months.<br />
She is such a beautiful and strong wife and mother. I respect her so much.</center><center>It was much more difficult to walk with her through this journey than I expected.</center><center>I wasn't prepared for the thousand emotions that slammed into my chest as I pulled onto the base for his sendoff, they really are all the same...</center><center> </center><center>And wouldn't you know it, the month I am done work and starting the business at home, My Soldier has AT and is working all hours of the day and night. I haven't seen him in months it seems... </center><center> </center><center>But this is life right? Learning to balance the chaos and madness gracefully? </center><center>I <strike>won't </strike>promise to be around here more often, but I hope to say hello again soon. </center><center> </center><center> </center><center><img src="http://j.imagehost.org/0967/signature.png" /></center>mrs.griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14247066173375178917noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4803270074275066128.post-51498383413664923382011-03-06T14:43:00.000-05:002011-03-06T14:43:49.078-05:00My Next Adventure<div style="text-align: center;">I am so very excited to share with all of you what has been consuming my free time as of late....</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I am now an <em>official </em><span style="color: #e06666;"><a href="http://arbonne.com/company/opportunity/startnow.asp">Arbonne International Consultant! </a></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">Having just signed up last week, my kitchen at the present time looks like an Arbonne Christmas exploded! </div><div style="text-align: center;">I was<em> thrilled </em>to come home to 4 lovely boxes filled with Arbonne goodies for my starter kit.</div><div style="text-align: center;">The products are even packaged pretty!</div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;"> For those of you who aren't familiar with Arbonne, you seriously owe it to yourself to <a href="http://arbonne.com/products/"><span style="color: #e06666;">check it out!</span></a><span style="color: #e06666;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"> For years I have been an avid supporter of their products and their promise to deliver pure, safe and beneficial products that uphold their botanical tradition. </div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">It wasn't until just recently a family member (an area manager for Arbonne) asked me to take a closer look at the business side of Arbonne. My first thought was that I wouldn't be any good at it, or that I wouldn't have the time to start it up while working a 45+ hours a week job...but the more I looked into this incredible opportunity, the more I realized it was a tangible reality for me. She gave me <a href="http://arbonne.com/opportunity.asp">this video</a> and it really made me think... why not? Why isn't that lifestyle and opportunity as available to me as it is to them?</div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">Then I made My Soldier watch it. And read the pamphlets. And listen to the informational call. </div><div style="text-align: center;">His approval sealed the deal. So here I am!</div><div style="text-align: center;">Kickstarting a new home business, with a crazy work week that requires an hour drive both ways, a puppy who is in desperate need of training and excerise,and these insane migraines that have plagued me for the last 6 months. </div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>And I'm <span style="color: #e06666;">loving</span> it.</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;"> I am busting my hiney to get my calendar filled with party dates and new clients to order products.</div><div style="text-align: center;">This isn't a get rich quick scheme by any means, but it is a lifestyle worth the work.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Freedom of time, being my own boss, and being part of an organization that strives to bring beauty to the world inside and out. Not to mention their products are amazing quality.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">I have the best intentions to spend a little more time around here...</div><div style="text-align: center;">Look for my new Arbonne page..it's in the making!</div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://arbonne.com/">Arbonne.com</a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><center> </center><center><img src="http://j.imagehost.org/0967/signature.png" /></center>mrs.griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14247066173375178917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4803270074275066128.post-89460829424835300022011-03-04T19:57:00.001-05:002011-03-04T20:06:09.334-05:00AND THE WINNER IS....<center><em><span style="font-size: large;">Finally...</span></em></center><center><em><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">for my <strike>end of the month</strike> beginning of the month give-away.... </span></em></center><center><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span> </center><center><em><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The lucky winner is....</span></em></center><center> </center><center><span style="color: #e06666; font-size: x-large;">#3 Kelly Lynn from </span><a href="http://youplusmeequalswii.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: #e06666; font-size: x-large;">You + Me = Wii</span></a><span style="color: #e06666; font-size: x-large;"> !!!!</span></center><center><span style="font-size: large;"></span> </center><center>Your fabulous prize???</center><center> </center><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3ZAk-rDaU8Pt9iLM26JPK0T55Q12Y7Vr0g3aQfBU1EWaXWLjP_r-j9J80dGnFrdPTxomMpK7spUOlkjZJZtg1_FaTewKWF6n-UMTT3hL23qFficUrSMa4mScLqzu-gIf9jIFBomMwjxu7/s1600/4f5128f50bf5d87.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="177" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3ZAk-rDaU8Pt9iLM26JPK0T55Q12Y7Vr0g3aQfBU1EWaXWLjP_r-j9J80dGnFrdPTxomMpK7spUOlkjZJZtg1_FaTewKWF6n-UMTT3hL23qFficUrSMa4mScLqzu-gIf9jIFBomMwjxu7/s320/4f5128f50bf5d87.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<center> </center><center><span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large;"><em>You are eligible for a $20.00 off coupon on any Arbonne purchase!!! AND a free surprise product when you order!</em></span></center><center><span style="color: #e06666;">Don't wait-<a href="https://arbonne.com/shop_online/shopOnline.asp"> hop on over</a> and make your wish list! </span></center><center> </center><center>*****</center><center> </center><center><span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large;">Never heard of Arbonne? Click <a href="http://arbonne.com/products/">here</a> and discover how this amazing line of health and wellness products can change your life. </span></center><center> </center><center><em><span style="font-size: large;">Come back tomorrow to find out how Arbonne changed MY life and why this giveaway is the start for my next adventure as an Army Wife!</span></em></center><center> </center><center> ****</center><center> </center><center>To all those who introduced themselves- it was so nice to meet you!</center><center> Come back soon for another giveaway in the making!!</center><center> </center><center><img src="http://j.imagehost.org/0967/signature.png" /></center>mrs.griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14247066173375178917noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4803270074275066128.post-25772571095885875782011-02-27T12:46:00.000-05:002011-02-27T12:46:22.616-05:00LAST CHANCE!!!<center> </center><center><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em>Today is the last day to enter my giveaway!</em></span></center><center> </center><center><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><em>Have you entered yet?</em></span></center><center><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </center><center><em><span style="font-size: large;">Theres been a lot of you who stopped by...but only a few left comments... (better chances for those who did to win!)</span></em></center><center> </center><center><em><span style="font-size: large;">Come on! Introduce yourself- win a fabulous giveaway!!</span></em></center><center> </center><center><em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I'd really like to meet you!</span></em></center><center> </center><center> </center><center><img src="http://j.imagehost.org/0967/signature.png" /></center>mrs.griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14247066173375178917noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4803270074275066128.post-34902892446780234372011-02-09T20:11:00.001-05:002011-02-09T20:25:11.149-05:00Nice to Meet You<center> </center><center>I came to the realization today that I don't know many of my readers.</center><center> </center><center><br>I have yet to have the priviledge of meeting YOU!</center><center> </center><center><br>I don't know how you found my blog,</center><center> </center><center><br>Who you are and what you blog about.</center><center> </center><center><br>(In fact, I haven't had the opportunity to follow many of you-</center><center>tell me where you call bloggie-home!)</center><center> </center><center><br>Are you a milspouse too?</center><center> </center><center><br>What part of the world are you reading from?</center><center> </center><center><br>Maybe we have a lot in common....maybe we live close to each other...</center><center> </center><center><br>you never know!</center><center> </center><center> </center><center><br>SO </center><center> </center><center><br>the next time you stop by to say hello, won't you introduce yourself?</center><center> </center><center><br>I'd really like to say "nice to meet you"</center><center> </center><center><br>******</center><center> </center><center><br>P.S- those of you who are proactive followers and leave a comment introducing yourself will be entered for a fun <em>surprise giveaway</em> at the end of the month!!!</center><center> </center><center>Want <em>two </em>entries? Blog about this post and leave the link in an additional comment!</center><center> </center><center><br>******</center><center> </center><center> </center><center> </center><center><img src="http://j.imagehost.org/0967/signature.png" /></center>mrs.griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14247066173375178917noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4803270074275066128.post-72639297502999400252011-01-29T19:55:00.003-05:002011-01-29T20:39:23.640-05:00The "D" Word.<div align="center">My head has been spinning lately. </div><div align="center">I keep catching myself playing the "what if" and "when" game... </div><div align="center">deployment is slapping me in the face from every angle. </div><div align="center"><em><br />and my soldier isn't even deploying.</em><br />not for another year. </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br />but my best friend's are facing it in their near future. they are making plans and adjustments. preparing themselves for single mommy-hood. steeling themselves for the rough journey. </div><div align="center"><em><strong><br />and everything is flooding back.</strong></em></div><div align="center"><br />the long nights filled with insomnia. the lonely days waiting for that blessed 5 minutes phone call.</div><div align="center"><em>I can't decide whats better, the blissful ignorance of first deployment or the painful truth of knowing what lies ahead.</em> I've tried to be still and listen to what I know the Father must be trying to reveal through this.I know it isn't my burden to carry.</div><div align="center">I believe and have faith that He gives grace sufficiently.</div><div align="center">I KNOW He gives strength for each day.</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br />And I still find myself trying to stand beneath the weight.</div><div align="center"><em>I want to spare them from the pain.</em></div><div align="center"><em>the fear. the constant worry. the loneliness.</em></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br />I know how to be a hooah buddy and walk through the "tour of duty" when<em> I'm going through the same thing</em>. I've been there through the tears and long awaited letters, the 3 am phone calls because you can't sleep. planning skype dates and sending flat rates.</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br />I understood because I was <em>living in the same shoes.</em></div><p align="center"><em><strong>But what will I say when I have my soldier in my arms?</strong></em></p><p align="center">How do I comfort in the middle of the night when my bed isn't lonely and cold,<br />when ACU's still line my closet and dirty PT's fill my hamper?</p><p align="center"><em>I'm scared my "hooah hooah hooah" won't be the same.</em></p><p align="center"><strong>That kills me. </strong></p><p align="center">As thankful as I am that My Soldier won't be leaving anytime soon, I think I almost feel guilty for it. Like somehow I should walk through the same journey while they do. If only they would all deploy at the same time. later, not sooner. </p><p align="center">If only Soldiers could arrive at home at 5 o'clock for dinner everynight<br />and tuck their daughters into bed for a goodnight kiss.<br />and no birthdays, holidays and anniversaries were missed.<br />and puppies were family pets and not guard dogs when you're scared to live alone.</p><p align="center"><br />If only the "sandbox" was a place where sand castles were built and seashells were lined in rows.<br />If only life were... <em>simple? easy? fair? </em></p><p align="center"><em><strong>Deployment. I just don't know what to do with you...</strong></em></p><p align="center"><em>How do you face deployment fears?<br />Have you ever felt the weight of someone else's trial?<br /></em></p><div align="center"></div><center></center><center></center><center></center><center><img src="http://j.imagehost.org/0967/signature.png" /></center>mrs.griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14247066173375178917noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4803270074275066128.post-34440152364395986142011-01-20T20:29:00.005-05:002011-01-20T21:21:45.720-05:00Techinically a post. Not so much.<center></center><center></center><center>I’ve forgotten what it’s like to have writer’s block. </center><center></center><center>That is, I haven’t had the opportunity to remember. </center><center>Somewhere between the 45 minute drive one way to work, 8 hours later repeating the same endless road, the arriving home 2 hours after my soldier, scarfing down dinner (that my amazing husband makes every single night now…) playing with my puppy and kissing my soldier goodnight, I fall into bed with not one ounce of energy left…. And not one thought to share with you even if I had a spare moment… </center><center><br />I miss having writers block. I miss writing and rewriting, or staring at the page until I finally think of something that might be of interest to any of you who might still check in now and again to see if I’ve actually returned to the blogging world. </center><center><br />I miss reading and following all of you! <em>Please!!</em>, will someone tell me how to balance this complicated thing called life? How do you fit it all in? When do you find the time for hobbies or even exercise (don’t even get me started on how long its been since I’ve said hello to my elliptical…or hit play to do my cardio videos...yikes!) when you are only home long enough to sleep and restart the day yet again?<br /></center><center><br />Even as I am sitting here, I'm madly typing as if I have a time clock... grrr! </center><center>My Soldier is MIA tonight. He's working a FTP with NVG's.<br />So I have the house to myself.And the puppy...errr...growing monster. Everytime I turn around she's grown an inch, has new teeth and ways 4 more pounds.</center><center>(She's helping me type by the way- making this muchhhh less complicated than normal...)<br /><br /></center><center></center><center>*****</center><center></center><center><br />I did actually do something fun this past weekend. I had an Arbonne Makeup Party! If you haven't heard of Arbonne before... it is all-natural, organic, botanically-based, ph correct and has absolutely no chemicals. </center><center></center><center>Why is it different than other products? Other products contain things like mineral oil (refined crude oil), petrolatum, petroleum, artificial dyes and colors, and artificial fragrances. (All of these things which have been proven to cause cancer, toxicity, reproductive problems, skin and eye irritants etc...</center><center></center><center><br />If you have never heard about chemicals and animal byproducts in personal care products and cosmetics, <a href="http://smarttools.soundconcepts.com/p/GB306">check this out</a> (click on the look inside tab). You NEED to know this info! Theres tons of info out there, most people just never knew to research it. I never did!</center><center></center><center>Arbonne has beautiful cosmetics, amazing skin care products, dietary supplements and baby products... you can find their website <a href="http://www.arbonne.com/index.asp?lang=eng">here</a>. And if you are interested, email me! I would love to share my favorite things about this great company or place an order for you to try it!</center><center> </center><center>I wish my post were more interesting, eloquent, or even EXISTANT...but this is all I've got for now...puppy is turning into a demanding monster with daddy gone for the night. She's now not only helping me type but in my lap trying to take over all together!</center><center> </center><center> </center><center></center><center></center><center></center><center><img src="http://j.imagehost.org/0967/signature.png" /></center>mrs.griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14247066173375178917noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4803270074275066128.post-51436051349126348502011-01-10T20:17:00.010-05:002011-01-10T20:38:03.535-05:00My Baby<div align="center"> My baby isn't a baby any more! She is getting SO big. (no really...it scares me a little to think of how big she will be full grown. ahh!) Three weeks ago she weighed 15 lbs. at three months. I swear she has gained 15+ since then. </div><br /><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center">I'm beginning to worry when every person who sees her exclaims "look at those paws! how old? really. wow. that puppy is going to be upwards of 115 lbs." Yikes!! Its a darn good thing she is so smart and is learning quickly. She'd better be all trained by the time "daddy" goes back to the desert or this mama is going to be the one who's being taken for a walk!</div><div align="center"><br />This was Delta the day we brought her home. On November 12.</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560735305710663330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU_1jvyge0YQComLC0O3zQGr9PkaQiTsi3ALrbvJViUVEtivkf7buM2-atItBqwWYsQ20GYe4-Pv4s8BeoROsiPc9iolVh6LLhJPHi7WtD5bFIc2c9uKB8Di2yu4feTRPa365NyQUKQTnU/s320/DSCN3661.JPG" border="0" /><br />This is Delta last week. Thats only two months people!!!</div><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560732104045035762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNpuTLwTVrK1POig-nkf2hewZzAmoxW56fDORPsWS4hUhkPWIrCXPP7cWI_ah53-gxUT0r0fPRzUkd8Jfpfdxy6R_aEiQ3GQ9BBSO6XUkmf2qiz3XF8hCW0Cc1waFh2cgRyeR0xjc3G8eg/s320/DSCN4441.JPG" border="0" /></p><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGTS_JCDsjvYtiMeBpikmH3BVk4AWCW3G3KNlfR1O6dXQ8h3KIKjufSVY736KoWhzoD1YjAsdhNR28inpXz4BgmfjUM2lVpXnLIHJcwG9ehRR-FraqHSkxTvOCfkhtjvO2UlTI0-PuKkx0/s1600/DSCN4217.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560732403893615202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGTS_JCDsjvYtiMeBpikmH3BVk4AWCW3G3KNlfR1O6dXQ8h3KIKjufSVY736KoWhzoD1YjAsdhNR28inpXz4BgmfjUM2lVpXnLIHJcwG9ehRR-FraqHSkxTvOCfkhtjvO2UlTI0-PuKkx0/s320/DSCN4217.JPG" border="0" /></a> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560731925238441714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGRpBwWJMZRvEgVVOUl-UNwRDV8ZIdJuqv_2LKkEsQ6SEJnwwyoS-vjmOJ_1DW-_hJi4CgRFIlQ5d3n1GioKWiWg80EgANXEW54czxcGsTbaLXitNu8x8lMTj71Pf57SQf9Ou-x97D-5ac/s320/DSCN4148.JPG" border="0" /> <center></center><center></center><center></center><br /><br /><center><img src="http://j.imagehost.org/0967/signature.png" /></center></div>mrs.griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14247066173375178917noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4803270074275066128.post-46366137435137835102010-12-31T23:32:00.002-05:002010-12-31T23:42:18.876-05:00Shutterfly Holiday Cards<p align="center">Remember <a href="http://mrsgriffin0711.blogspot.com/2010/11/christmas-present-from-shutterfly.html">this blog post </a>(I know... way back when I actually blogged...)<br />well anyways... I finally got around to actually using my freebie promo and designed our very first holiday cards! </p><p align="center">I had wanted to send out Christmas cards, but about the time I was still shopping for gifts for people two days before Christmas, I decided it was a little unrealistic.</p><p align="center"><br />So, I am making a last ditch effort to send out New Years cards...</p><p align="center"><br />And yes, those will be late as well (considering its new years eve and all).</p><p align="center"><br />But I had 5o FREE CARDS! I HAD to use them for something!</p><p align="center"><br />Without further ado.... Happy New Years from The Griffins!!</p><p align="center"> </p><div class="sflyProductPreviewWidget" style="WIDTH: 425px; HEIGHT: 494px"><div class="sflyProductPreviewWidgetTop" style="BACKGROUND-IMAGE: url(http://cdn.staticsfly.com/img_/share/preview/msc/widget/top.gif); HEIGHT: 6px"><p align="center"> </p></div><div class="sflyProductPreviewWidgetCenter" style="PADDING-RIGHT: 6px; PADDING-LEFT: 6px; BACKGROUND-IMAGE: url(http://cdn.staticsfly.com/img_/share/preview/msc/widget/bg.gif); PADDING-BOTTOM: 0px; PADDING-TOP: 0px; BACKGROUND-REPEAT: repeat-y; HEIGHT: 482px"><div class="sflyProductPreviewLogo" style="PADDING-RIGHT: 0px; PADDING-LEFT: 14px; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0px; WIDTH: 105px; PADDING-TOP: 14px; HEIGHT: 34px"><img src="http://cdn.staticsfly.com/img_/share/preview/msc/widget/logo.gif" /></div><div class="sflyProductPreviewContainer" style="PADDING-RIGHT: 0px; PADDING-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0px; PADDING-TOP: 0px; HEIGHT: 350px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="http://www.shutterfly.com/cards-stationery"><img src="http://images-community.shutterfly.com/prs/v1/1RaNXLNyy8/1RaNXLNyy9xY/p/67b0de21b3127d902548/JPEG/1293853360000/0/" /></a></div><div class="sflyProductPreviewMessageContainer" style="PADDING-RIGHT: 0px; PADDING-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-BOTTOM: 15px; LINE-HEIGHT: 19px; PADDING-TOP: 15px; HEIGHT: 55px; BACKGROUND-COLOR: #f4f4e9; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><div class="sflyProductPreviewTitle" style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; FONT-SIZE: 15px; COLOR: #333333; FONT-FAMILY: arial, sans-seris"><span style="font-size:+0;">Elegant Snowflake Holiday Card</span></div><div class="sflyProductPreviewSEOText" style="FONT-SIZE: 13px; COLOR: #333333; FONT-FAMILY: arial, sans-seris"><span style="font-size:+0;">Create photo <a style="COLOR: #6666cc" href="http://www.shutterfly.com/cards-stationery/new-years-cards">new year's cards</a> with Shutterfly.</span></div><div class="sflyProductPreviewViewCollection" style="FONT-SIZE: 13px; COLOR: #333333; FONT-FAMILY: arial, sans-seris"><span style="font-size:+0;">View the entire <a style="COLOR: #6666cc" href="http://www.shutterfly.com/cards-stationery">collection</a> of cards.</span></div><img height="1" src="https://os.shutterfly.com/b/ss/sflyshareprod/1/H.15/111?pageName=sharekey&c1=msc&c2=blogger" width="1" border="0" /></div></div><div class="sflyProductPreviewWidgetBottom" style="BACKGROUND-IMAGE: url(http://cdn.staticsfly.com/img_/share/preview/msc/widget/bottom.gif); HEIGHT: 6px"></div></div>mrs.griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14247066173375178917noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4803270074275066128.post-54485535329836522832010-12-28T15:24:00.018-05:002010-12-28T16:55:30.530-05:00Christmas With the Griffins<div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555834477562094514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggpdmmZTEoBpEOoOTsJjRot3wqgONhbAeXRRyRVs7aK7T1Wl1E5UQMFj2WW9cVOnNcLTFIsF8pxXlfKlzyowjBA4E5QTaJvedGdbjmkAe8RcA0BfUVm_vZx22RcvaqZt9oX1K_iuWbf9gB/s320/DSCN4506.JPG" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555842853698581538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 207px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrvwKCLPhyWNi_wt7Zt_KwPO9lKuWgKiTvoijvqVutGwoawAKISyDLpfwfqD8R_W_zj4Q1rq_tsqNno4OBqP-yjWhmXjAefhvGVF9lai3gfTvBIDgXKsnE8DH7hOGSrti0cbZmNPgYUPcx/s320/DSC_0153-e+copy.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz8dBRcBDqBUOakOt2_N1Rag_oznrswbu6lmX8D4X0f-hGHnGYfWn6mVNjtjnTbmcd7UgifGdglG_rIPiNVLpa367Q_qedYtj9TLGdX4HdVTojCQQpyin-ULgunBq8TnaUpYY7FblfCBoJ/s1600/DSCN4364.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555841297703991186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz8dBRcBDqBUOakOt2_N1Rag_oznrswbu6lmX8D4X0f-hGHnGYfWn6mVNjtjnTbmcd7UgifGdglG_rIPiNVLpa367Q_qedYtj9TLGdX4HdVTojCQQpyin-ULgunBq8TnaUpYY7FblfCBoJ/s320/DSCN4364.JPG" border="0" /></a> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555835016188199026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEw5bRMbaPHNoapBifLOq9S_kMZnj_yN8c0IaPn_o9qSVxI6_6m1-HR-AMLZ8IS5JAl3AoDcLD0RqUr40l1snGxd2bCGyxBtMBjCOWYaxE7fhNPzVfvsksZ4sFJl4mj5-DvlzZGWw7YB60/s320/DSCN4293.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555840917546158242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVd3xQsgy90uIu4FPqLp89wypuNUPhAlckOvyGBjo41_maxG5eMDennX4dBrzdGtuEoyt3J4kq0c_TQxoqoxYB_f_hx0xJuR7Nv8kXoDIzVYta4Apducc5SrV22sa0V4Hl3Si0UZqPdo6g/s320/DSCN4406.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555840801400067394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCtfyUwNhYXS7cYSwvanDcVB0tzB5FjNig3HeJ5rr8-9pWtwkMlJC0gK2gYmLjK402U4XaBHKp2TVzSrxz9Go8yq_YyHwxrA_9FjBs4R1T1hxMummsf4-qRYcpz7y_Mhfvix3P8sn29xVn/s320/DSCN4455.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555841408723034786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAEBckyLPINjlDlIKi3Owhc5yjEQAEIestsJmeOaPiKAogKtQBZHagxGsdM8erY96ND79LKTzfFHkkPbL49MuD52znC4urlH6zkPYiTlJtVTKz5d7AdHpuJ1DSRbtXU7r5-uELSBh-rVqz/s320/DSCN4463.JPG" border="0" /> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555854999944361186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVif3i8xOcnG_S-WKW2vSsqS3DeVt-FetOXn-IYG5Go5-rDOHr6h7ymnA_zp-oCzR7T5ZVDUDe5T8h7IrL6A3kPTAACzmcpWY9PMfH4vKPj4_RLyJGbQqyxScYS5BTI6DnRyAFvrcorJyD/s320/DSCN4469.JPG" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555834021757397810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJkqHZAo_fI2tZV-NxXWcWpBptIUb2XcJz6P1aFuJerOG-zqPfpkpd6UAJbtaHALvoMfq7LVx0PBpCVGlYog76wjjmzuXEErm-tvGZQevsWKHW1-iRG6TVEa6XMV_fI84vAoEfstq3E8xu/s320/DSCN4283.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555833345955546914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVjREnKbNQ37OVGbQjzDD_fI1qNyUoeRgZy_MH4MXt27-RCqwQ5sZNkZEXyjeIBsYJreoYxCWHjay2ChCT66IRDQYLUjspgnlgmk3BzRU5zjiiLNK_UCzU1xgx_VKz2AyUTATrdLDGbHpf/s320/DSCN4192.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555832663497334898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC2FspsiMMoOqA6yWl3ZhRfQ7Cqdwf4kiL4cTUWEdL7FY_nWI94zQY4Ro2G_YrHmxGf5QTEneDbcaVTAu540MDqOyiVq5Bnx_1q-ez1a-OhO5mjkNXHDhBN8R7sAu-M1xge-WsHkY53cPl/s320/DSCN4216.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><img src="http://j.imagehost.org/0967/signature.png" /></center></div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>mrs.griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14247066173375178917noreply@blogger.com1