<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048395310456003100</id><updated>2012-02-16T10:50:42.264-08:00</updated><category term='Meme'/><category term='Nora'/><category term='Youth'/><category term='Family'/><title type='text'>The James Gang</title><subtitle type='html'>Live from Varnell</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>The James Gang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01411624546084910806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>20</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048395310456003100.post-4193979706336093104</id><published>2010-11-11T21:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-11T22:11:27.197-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Giving Thanks</title><content type='html'>I've seen many people list an item a day for which they are thankful. I find I have a hard time listing just one at a time, so I thought I would compile them all here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am thankful for . . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;. . . my Saviour, Jesus Christ. Without Him, I would be nothing.&lt;br /&gt;. . . my Salvation provided by Him.&lt;br /&gt;. . . my freedom to worship Him.&lt;br /&gt;. . . a church in which to worship with others sharing the same beliefs.&lt;br /&gt;. . . my earthly and Heavenly homes God has blessed me with.&lt;br /&gt;. . . my husband.&lt;br /&gt;. . . my two beautiful, healthy daughters.&lt;br /&gt;. . . my family - biological, inherited, spritual.&lt;br /&gt;. . . the kids in our youth. They are all part of my family.&lt;br /&gt;. . . good health.&lt;br /&gt;. . . my friends.&lt;br /&gt;. . . my co-workers who I can also call friends.&lt;br /&gt;. . . my job.&lt;br /&gt;. . . our vehicles.&lt;br /&gt;. . . all things that give me life - air, food, water.&lt;br /&gt;. . . having my needs met and most of my wants, too.&lt;br /&gt;. . . heat to keep us warm and air to keep us cool.&lt;br /&gt;. . . getting up in the morning and having a warm shower waiting for me.&lt;br /&gt;. . . clothes.&lt;br /&gt;. . . shoes.&lt;br /&gt;. . . being able to provide for my family.&lt;br /&gt;. . . health insurance.&lt;br /&gt;. . . and so many other things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like 20 perfect toes . . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/TNzXECCb3xI/AAAAAAAAACc/J3nNxaMcmPE/s1600/100_2001.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: none; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538538106025402130" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/TNzXECCb3xI/AAAAAAAAACc/J3nNxaMcmPE/s320/100_2001.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;And sisterly love . . .&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/TNzXpQ-m1mI/AAAAAAAAACk/3zXqj6g6B5U/s1600/100_1997.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: none; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538538745691035234" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/TNzXpQ-m1mI/AAAAAAAAACk/3zXqj6g6B5U/s320/100_1997.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/TNzYELjqgSI/AAAAAAAAACs/YdlbERoSfdo/s1600/100_2073.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: none; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538539208092320034" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/TNzYELjqgSI/AAAAAAAAACs/YdlbERoSfdo/s320/100_2073.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;And love across the generations. . . &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/TNzY_ygnqwI/AAAAAAAAAC8/1TeNeohIqOQ/s1600/Ava%252C%2BNora%252C%2Band%2BPawPaw.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538540232160815874" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/TNzY_ygnqwI/AAAAAAAAAC8/1TeNeohIqOQ/s320/Ava%252C%2BNora%252C%2Band%2BPawPaw.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/TNzY_uvDiXI/AAAAAAAAAC0/uQuPmmnH0ZQ/s1600/100_1905.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538540231147620722" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/TNzY_uvDiXI/AAAAAAAAAC0/uQuPmmnH0ZQ/s320/100_1905.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's just so much to be thankful for. I am truly blessed. So, I wish you happiness&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/TNzZyVNzvmI/AAAAAAAAADE/hrjygX--lAA/s1600/Ava%2BGrace%2B100710.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538541100470615650" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/TNzZyVNzvmI/AAAAAAAAADE/hrjygX--lAA/s320/Ava%2BGrace%2B100710.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and peace&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/TNzZynaQcDI/AAAAAAAAADM/6sJBn-wIbeU/s1600/100_1908.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538541105354666034" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/TNzZynaQcDI/AAAAAAAAADM/6sJBn-wIbeU/s320/100_1908.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and most importantly, may God's love bountifully bless you this Thanksgiving season. May we always remember where our blessings come from.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1048395310456003100-4193979706336093104?l=thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/feeds/4193979706336093104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1048395310456003100&amp;postID=4193979706336093104' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/4193979706336093104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/4193979706336093104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/2010/11/giving-thanks.html' title='Giving Thanks'/><author><name>The James Gang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01411624546084910806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/TNzXECCb3xI/AAAAAAAAACc/J3nNxaMcmPE/s72-c/100_2001.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048395310456003100.post-1752012665648583966</id><published>2010-01-12T18:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-12T18:25:47.221-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Listen to your child's prayers . . .</title><content type='html'>So, I was alone that morning getting ready for a doctor's appointment. I knew my doctor would be adjusting the medication I took for the herniated disc I have and I decided I should take a pregnancy test just to be safe. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I sit there, waiting for the result and really not thinking it would be positive, I glance over and what do you know. It says 'Pregnant'. Wow. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I immediately throw the magazine I was looking at in the trash. Don't know why, just felt like the right thing to do at the time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keith was on a death call, so I didn't know when I would be able to talk to him. I called his cell and they were, we'll say, in an inopportune moment and he could not talk. I asked him to call me back as soon as he could.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A while later, he called and I asked if he was there alone. Fortunately, he was. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told him I had something to tell him, which, of course, makes him a wee bit nervous. Without knowing a better way to do it, I just blurted, "I'm pregnant." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Silence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, "No, you're not." Oh, yes I am. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say, it has been a whirlwind ever since. I am now almost 15 weeks and due July 10th. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and back to the title of this post. Nora had begun praying for a brother or sister just weeks prior to us finding out we were expecting. She proceeded to pray for twins, which I quickly put a stop to. Momma can only handle so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Below is a picture I took of her and Keith actually saying her prayers one night. At this point, she would only whisper her prayer, to keep it secret from me, but we already knew her prayer was answered. The image on the top right is from our second ultrasound.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/S00uOOBTJuI/AAAAAAAAACE/eu64AxUhWnM/s1600-h/Nora%27s+Prayer+baby.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 242px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/S00uOOBTJuI/AAAAAAAAACE/eu64AxUhWnM/s320/Nora%27s+Prayer+baby.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426043947867907810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1048395310456003100-1752012665648583966?l=thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/feeds/1752012665648583966/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1048395310456003100&amp;postID=1752012665648583966' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/1752012665648583966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/1752012665648583966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/2010/01/listen-to-your-childs-prayers.html' title='Listen to your child&apos;s prayers . . .'/><author><name>The James Gang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01411624546084910806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/S00uOOBTJuI/AAAAAAAAACE/eu64AxUhWnM/s72-c/Nora%27s+Prayer+baby.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048395310456003100.post-6387550248999586147</id><published>2009-12-05T21:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-05T21:39:27.712-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Boy, was I surprised.</title><content type='html'>Let me begin by saying that most things in my life are predictable. I am not one for surprises because I feel out of control. I have to know what is going on so I can plan. plan. plan. So when I got home from work on Friday expecting an evening Christmas shopping with Keith and in turn had a partially packed suitcase waiting, I was in shock. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday, December 4th was the 15th anniversary of our first date. We spent our first date on the Southern Belle Riverboat celebrating Christmas with our Lowe's co-workers (we both worked there in the day). For our one year 'dating' anniversary, we revisted the Southern Belle and had a great time. Pretty much every year since then, Keith has sent me flowers or we have had a nice dinner in celebration. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year, however, there were no flowers, no mention of a nice dinner or of the anniversary at all for that matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For our 15th, when I arrived home, there was a note on our bedroom door telling me to pack lightly, wear something 'decent', and be prepared to leave promptly at 6:00 p.m.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My wonderful husband had booked the premuim Southern Belle 'Special Event' package (including dinner, sparkling grape juice, special glasses, and a free photo). In addition, the suitcase was for a night at the Choo Choo. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow. That took some planning. Unfortunately for him, I had come home feeling stressed about some work-related stuff so he didn't get my full "I can't believe you did all of this. I'm so excited." reaction. But I was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a good time on the Riverboat and met some very nice people from Huntsville celebrating their 19th wedding anniversary. The band was enjoyable, the food great and dear ol' Santa even joined the cruise for the last half. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our room was nice with a great view of the newly renovated pool area and we woke up to snow. We then spent the morning and early afternoon Christmas shopping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The whole thing was, by far, one of the nicest, most thoughful, loving things anyone has ever done for me. I have the best husband in the world who is my very best friend. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love him with all my heart and hope for many, many more 1st date anniversaries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only problem now is. . . how do I ever top that????&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1048395310456003100-6387550248999586147?l=thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/feeds/6387550248999586147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1048395310456003100&amp;postID=6387550248999586147' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/6387550248999586147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/6387550248999586147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/2009/12/boy-was-i-surprised.html' title='Boy, was I surprised.'/><author><name>The James Gang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01411624546084910806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048395310456003100.post-3676673734545003471</id><published>2009-10-08T19:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-08T19:53:02.327-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So true</title><content type='html'>Nora has been sick for about a week now. During that week, no one in our house has slept well at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning, Keith woke her up for school. I went in after a few minutes to talk to her and see how she was feeling. At that point, she looked out the window and saw the beginning of the sunrise. However, to her, it was still dark. She said, "Uh-oh, mom. Its about to get dark." I said, "No, actually the sun's coming up and it will be daylight." To which she responded, "Oh, I didn't sleep very long." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The more I think about her comment, the more I realize one thing. Time goes by too quickly, especially when you need that extra sleep, those few more moments with a loved one, that one more hug before you go to work, and one more 'I love you' when you can't say it anymore. Just wanting one more time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could say that I didn't live my life with any regrets, but even the best intentions can go unfulfilled. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to strive to live every moment as if it were the last and take advantage of every precious second that God gives me. He gives us so many opportunities to curl up in His love and blessings, but too often we miss the small things because or focus is on things out of our control.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So when I forget and need to slow down, I hope to always hear His message however it is delivered.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1048395310456003100-3676673734545003471?l=thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/feeds/3676673734545003471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1048395310456003100&amp;postID=3676673734545003471' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/3676673734545003471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/3676673734545003471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/2009/10/so-true.html' title='So true'/><author><name>The James Gang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01411624546084910806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048395310456003100.post-2346581841192404791</id><published>2009-06-01T19:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-01T19:28:49.723-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Special Day</title><content type='html'>I am almost out of time to get this posted.  Nothing like waiting until the last minute. . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is a very special day for me. Thirteen years ago, at approx. 2:00 p.m. at Rock Springs Baptist Church, I married the love of my life. Although many people who attended and even the most precious Pastor of my life have passed away, everyone present will always have a special place in my heart. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For that was the day I sealed my commitment to my best friend and my rock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keith jokingly says that we’ve been married 13 long and glorious years – some more long than glorious, but I wouldn’t trade a minute of those long years. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Through those times we have become stronger. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Through the sorrows and ‘discussions’,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Through the laughter and the sickness – &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have stuck together. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And our faith has strengthened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And God’s grace becomes even more evident.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And His peace and love surround us, every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I want to thank you, Keith, for standing with me in every challenge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For being my husband, a good father, and most of all, my best friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ll love you always, and through eternity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Anniversary.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1048395310456003100-2346581841192404791?l=thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/feeds/2346581841192404791/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1048395310456003100&amp;postID=2346581841192404791' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/2346581841192404791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/2346581841192404791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/2009/06/special-day.html' title='A Special Day'/><author><name>The James Gang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01411624546084910806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048395310456003100.post-6005481585907712741</id><published>2009-03-10T06:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-10T06:51:13.628-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nora'/><title type='text'>Nora-isms</title><content type='html'>Nora, like most toddlers has a plethora of bath toys.  We visit the land of Dora the Princess while traveling in our pirate ship or small tug boat, whatever the mood is.  Some nights, she puts on a show and requests our attendance.&lt;br /&gt;Nora:  “Dad, come watch!”&lt;br /&gt;Nora:  “Ladies and junglemen.”&lt;br /&gt;Keith:  “What?”&lt;br /&gt;Nora:  “Ladies and junglemen.”&lt;br /&gt;Me:     “Nora, its Ladies and Gentlemen.”&lt;br /&gt;Nora:  “Right, mom.  Ladies and junglemen.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there was last night when I was drying her hair.&lt;br /&gt;Me:  “Nora, please be still.”&lt;br /&gt;Nora: “Mom, get on the ball.  That means hurry up.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the mockingbird syndrome that lately cracks me up.  If you’re around our house for any amount of time, you’ll hear me call Nora missy.  As in, “Come on, missy.  Time to  clean up.”  Or “Alright, missy, don’t be mean”.  So guess what I was called approximately 15 times yesterday.  Yep. You got it, missy.  Although when Nora said it, it sounded more like messy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can’t post the Nora-isms without mentioning this sweet moment last night.  Nora had been dancing around saying, “Happy, Happy Day!”  She is usually obsessed with wishing everyone a Happy Birthday even when it isn’t anyone's birthday.  Anyway, last night she was eating and I heard her faintly whispering to herself.  I turned to look at her and saw that she was sitting with her eyes closed and her head bowed.  This is what I heard:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Thank you Jesus for Happy, Happy Day.  This is Nora Faith.  Amen.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From the mouths of babes. Truly it is a Happy, Happy Day that He has given us.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1048395310456003100-6005481585907712741?l=thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/feeds/6005481585907712741/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1048395310456003100&amp;postID=6005481585907712741' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/6005481585907712741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/6005481585907712741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/2009/03/nora-isms.html' title='Nora-isms'/><author><name>The James Gang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01411624546084910806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048395310456003100.post-3678752471601226480</id><published>2009-02-14T20:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-14T20:25:42.632-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Gotta love a child’s honesty.</title><content type='html'>Today, Keith, Nora, and I were having lunch at Wendy’s.  We were sitting there having a nice quiet lunch, when a middle-aged man came and sat within Nora’s line of sight. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t embarrass easily, but I also don’t encourage things being said to cause anyone else embarrassment.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, anyway, he sits down and Nora says as she points, “He’s a boy.  And look, he has hair like mine.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he did.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked up at about the same time he heard her comment.  So what did I do?  I simply said, “Yes, he does” and tried to distract her.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would have been fine, but Keith, who had his back to the guy, was laughing so hard he was shaking.  Granted, he wasn't laughing at the guy, just the situation. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the Nora-haired man left, I told Keith that we were definitely paying for our raising.  I, for too long, have been overly vocal and I guess Nora also has that gene.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FYI – After this incident, an older lady came in with bright orange-ish red hair.  And you know what?  I caught myself pointing it out to Keith.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Like mother like daughter.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1048395310456003100-3678752471601226480?l=thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/feeds/3678752471601226480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1048395310456003100&amp;postID=3678752471601226480' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/3678752471601226480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/3678752471601226480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/2009/02/gotta-love-childs-honesty.html' title='Gotta love a child’s honesty.'/><author><name>The James Gang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01411624546084910806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048395310456003100.post-8457135718742623231</id><published>2009-02-05T08:08:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T08:16:00.665-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nora'/><title type='text'>Snow in Varnell</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;So we didn’t exactly get the big snow I was hoping for, but we did have enough for Nora to try and catch some. She and Keith were outside as the snow came down. Nora loves it! She definitely takes after me in that respect. I would be ecstatic to get a few inches of the fluffy white stuff, but realize that will probably not happen any time soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here’s a picture of Nora trying to catch a snowflake on her tongue. She thinks it’s the greatest thing to do except for the wet stuff getting in her eyes. The last flurries we had, I told her to close her eyes when she was catching them, thus generating the below response.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/SYsPI2VlR0I/AAAAAAAAABk/9PyqjA0ftTg/s1600-h/0202091333a.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/SYsPI2VlR0I/AAAAAAAAABk/9PyqjA0ftTg/s1600-h/0202091333a.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/SYsPUue9xuI/AAAAAAAAABs/I2S6_H6Geio/s1600-h/0202091333a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299346235281229538" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/SYsPUue9xuI/AAAAAAAAABs/I2S6_H6Geio/s320/0202091333a.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The other picture is probably her reaction when she was unsuccessful. Even frustrated, she’s just too cute.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/SYsP9H06QII/AAAAAAAAAB8/sB2GFVCU2ZU/s1600-h/0202091333.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299346929278926978" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/SYsP9H06QII/AAAAAAAAAB8/sB2GFVCU2ZU/s320/0202091333.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1048395310456003100-8457135718742623231?l=thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/feeds/8457135718742623231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1048395310456003100&amp;postID=8457135718742623231' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/8457135718742623231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/8457135718742623231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/2009/02/snow-in-varnell.html' title='Snow in Varnell'/><author><name>The James Gang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01411624546084910806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/SYsPUue9xuI/AAAAAAAAABs/I2S6_H6Geio/s72-c/0202091333a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048395310456003100.post-1376571616274862994</id><published>2009-01-25T19:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-25T19:43:06.299-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nora'/><title type='text'>My Little Skating Lady</title><content type='html'>We took our youth group skating yesterday. Nora was so excited she barely slept Friday night. I think she finally went to sleep around 1:00 a.m., Saturday. Then, she woke up around 8:00 a.m. and told Keith it was time to go skating. Instead of her usual argument over what to wear, she was upset because we weren't ready to change her clothes. Here's a couple of pictures of her skating adventure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nora and Alissa:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/SX0uxF54H0I/AAAAAAAAABE/nJ1EayV7_oc/s1600-h/Web_NoraSkating1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295440157790969666" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/SX0uxF54H0I/AAAAAAAAABE/nJ1EayV7_oc/s320/Web_NoraSkating1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nora and Keith:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/SX0u9m_pDuI/AAAAAAAAABM/Km62bN3IGBw/s1600-h/Web_NoraSkating2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295440372831948514" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/SX0u9m_pDuI/AAAAAAAAABM/Km62bN3IGBw/s320/Web_NoraSkating2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/SX0vLuYcQ9I/AAAAAAAAABU/EvAwWN5IxzI/s1600-h/Web_NoraSkating3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295440615333184466" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/SX0vLuYcQ9I/AAAAAAAAABU/EvAwWN5IxzI/s320/Web_NoraSkating3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When she got tired of skating, she headed to the arcade games. Of course, she thinks she's bigger than she is and can play the big games. This was a truck driving game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/SX0vd-0x1fI/AAAAAAAAABc/zseTXWX6h-g/s1600-h/Web_NoraPlayingGames1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295440928984651250" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/SX0vd-0x1fI/AAAAAAAAABc/zseTXWX6h-g/s320/Web_NoraPlayingGames1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1048395310456003100-1376571616274862994?l=thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/feeds/1376571616274862994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1048395310456003100&amp;postID=1376571616274862994' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/1376571616274862994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/1376571616274862994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/2009/01/my-little-skating-lady.html' title='My Little Skating Lady'/><author><name>The James Gang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01411624546084910806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/SX0uxF54H0I/AAAAAAAAABE/nJ1EayV7_oc/s72-c/Web_NoraSkating1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048395310456003100.post-8076756372471632204</id><published>2008-12-24T13:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-24T13:47:31.577-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Christmas Wish</title><content type='html'>On this Christmas Eve, as Keith and I sit in our living room watching “A Flinstones Christmas Carol”, I’m thinking of all the things I have in my life to be thankful for.  Yes, I know, Thanksgiving was a month ago.  However, with all of the turmoil in our world these days, we should all be thankful for what we have, where we live, and who we have in our lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m thankful . . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for this quiet time in the warmth of my home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for my husband who is sitting next to me on furniture that is paid for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for my daughter who is sleeping peacefully in a bed, with a comfortable mattress and warm covers for her to snuggle in. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for the homes we’ll be visiting later this evening where family will be waiting to share in this joyous time of year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for my health and the health of my family and that we are at home instead of a hospital.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for my church family - for a pastor who is there for us whenever we need him, for a youth group who loves us and whom we love, and the freedom to worship with them in a church building that protects us from the elements.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for our jobs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for our vehicles and a dry garage to park them in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for my house and the family that makes it a home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But most importantly, I’m thankful for what this season represents.  The most precious gift we have ever been given; yet it is also the one gift so many people forget about, ignore, or reject.  He is my Saviour.  My Comforter.  My Friend.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, in this short post of mine, my Christmas Wish is this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For all my friends, family, co-workers, acquaintances, and all the people I encounter - I wish the Joy of Christ be real to you.  Most importantly, if you don’t know Him, I pray you will realize your need to have Him in your life and in your eternity.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He &lt;em&gt;is&lt;/em&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;THE&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; reason for the season and I am thankful that He came.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Merry Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1048395310456003100-8076756372471632204?l=thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/feeds/8076756372471632204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1048395310456003100&amp;postID=8076756372471632204' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/8076756372471632204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/8076756372471632204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/2008/12/my-christmas-wish.html' title='My Christmas Wish'/><author><name>The James Gang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01411624546084910806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048395310456003100.post-7144922371976535722</id><published>2008-12-16T20:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-16T20:38:55.091-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nora'/><title type='text'>The Joys of Toddlerdom</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/SUiBVBS1F-I/AAAAAAAAAA8/5Ixfb4TVeBM/s1600-h/CompressedNora.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 308px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/SUiBVBS1F-I/AAAAAAAAAA8/5Ixfb4TVeBM/s320/CompressedNora.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280612761216554978" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking at such a sweet little face you could never imagine the phase of toddlerhood we’re going through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, yes. Nora has taken to screaming when she doesn’t get what she wants. And, for the first time, this past weekend she actually cried over not getting a toy she wanted. Actually, it was the first three times all in one weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have tried to explain to Nora that she can’t have everything she sees that she wants. Of course, we always get the dreaded, “Why??”. After repeating this same statement over and over and over and over this weekend, Nora finally said, “but Mom, I want EVERYTHING!” If you have forgotten, please see my &lt;a href="http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/2008/09/note-to-santa.html"&gt;Note to Santa&lt;/a&gt; post that will show this repeat of history.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a side note, Nora is about 90% potty trained. She only wears pull-ups at night and when we are going out for a long period of time. For those members of my family reading this, I believe she has a little spirit of Granny Dietz in her. She absolutely refuses to use any public restroom. Period. It has gone as far as us going into a bathroom, putting a pull-up on her, her doing her business and then putting her underwear back on. Tell me how messed up that is??? Like I said, a little spirit of Granny is in there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also this past weekend, we attended the birthday party of Titus, my best friend, Elizabeth’s, son. Titus turned the big 1. This was a great event because Nora and Avery, Titus’s older sister, are “best friends”. They had the cutest little conversation about poop while they were eating. It was soooo funny. We were sitting at a table with Matt’s dad (Titus’s Popsy) and Matt’s Granny (Titus’s Great-Granny). Keith and I found it all quite humorous and, of course, were encouraging their little chat. However, Avery and Nora were informed by Granny that potty talk was not appropriate at the dinner table. Too funny. After they ate, Nora and Avery were off. Those two ran so much that they were OUT-OF-BREATH. Can you imagine?? Two 3 year olds breathless. That’s how much they ran.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know there have been so many funny things that Nora has said lately, but I’m old and can’t remember them. I need to start posting as she says things to keep up with it all. Here is one such tale that I can remember:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, Nora pulled one of her I have-to-go-the-bathroom-instead-of-going-to-sleep routines. After she was through, Keith decided to go, too, since he was up. Anyway, from the bathroom he is telling Nora that she better be going to sleep when comes in the room, blah, blah, blah. So, I, being the sarcasm lover that I am, said, “Alright dad, but either pee or get off the pot.” Ha. Ha. And, Nora, being the mocking bird she is replied, “Yeah, dad. Either pee or get off the pot. That’s your options.” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where has she heard that before, you might ask. Oh, about 5 minutes before she went to the bathroom, I told her she needed to get on her pillow or get in her own bed. Those were her options.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1048395310456003100-7144922371976535722?l=thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/feeds/7144922371976535722/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1048395310456003100&amp;postID=7144922371976535722' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/7144922371976535722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/7144922371976535722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/2008/12/looking-at-such-sweet-little-face-you.html' title='The Joys of Toddlerdom'/><author><name>The James Gang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01411624546084910806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/SUiBVBS1F-I/AAAAAAAAAA8/5Ixfb4TVeBM/s72-c/CompressedNora.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048395310456003100.post-7200765582361544145</id><published>2008-12-03T20:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-03T20:32:09.635-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My New House Guest . . .</title><content type='html'>I’m not sure what the average age is for ‘meeting’ your imaginary friend, but in our house it is 3 ½.  Nora’s little friend is named Rosie.  As in Caillou’s little sister.   For those of you who have young ones, you know this family of Sproutland.  For those of you who don’t, you’re very lucky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was really quite funny the first night she started talking to her.  It was this past Monday night.  The part that creeped us out a bit was the fact that we were watching the TV show “The Ghost Whisperer” which I DVR.  (I’m a couple of weeks behind b/c I was depressed with the story line.  If you watch, you know what I’m talking about.)  Anyway, if you’ve never watched the show, Jennifer Love Hewitt plays a lady who ‘sees dead people’ and helps them ‘cross over’. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So tell me, if you’re watching such a show and out of nowhere your little one says, “Come on Rosie lets go in here.  Be careful and step over that” as she points to my laptop drop cord, how would you feel????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, if in addition to the show, your husband or significant other just so happens to be a Funeral Director/Embalmer, do you think that might add a new level of creepiness?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keith and I just looked at each other, slightly confused.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we asked her who Rosie was.  She said, “Caillou’s sister.”  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok.  Breathing can return to normal.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now when Nora takes a bath, Rosie takes a bath.  When we wash Nora’s hair, we wash Rosie’s hair.  When we dry Nora’s hair, we dry Rosie’s hair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Get the picture?  It is really quite cute.  Now, anyway.  She did ask me that same night where Rosie was.  I had to explain to her that she was the only one who could see her so she would have to keep up with her.  It did help when we were going to sleep and Nora wouldn’t settle down.  She asked again where Rosie was and I told her she was lying on the pillow beside her asleep so she needed to be quiet. LOL!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah.  I forgot to mention that right after the introduction of Rosie to Keith and me, he had to go out on a ‘pick-up’. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quite a night in the James house.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1048395310456003100-7200765582361544145?l=thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/feeds/7200765582361544145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1048395310456003100&amp;postID=7200765582361544145' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/7200765582361544145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/7200765582361544145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/2008/12/my-new-house-guest.html' title='My New House Guest . . .'/><author><name>The James Gang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01411624546084910806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048395310456003100.post-3927288724169135077</id><published>2008-11-20T18:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-20T18:53:41.260-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Couple of Nora Stories . . .</title><content type='html'>1.  How to know when Nora has spent the day alone with her dear old Dad:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lying in bed Wednesday night, I was tickling Nora and picking at her.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She, in a very serious voice said, “Mom, if you don’t stop, I’m going to fart at you.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok.  Maybe that’s not appropriate to report in blog land, but it is my life.  I should always question what Keith and Nora will be doing when he has a day off with her.  I need to make sure they are active in some way with little time to converse.  Maybe then she will stick to the innocence of ‘fluffing’ and not the harsher references my husband teaches her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  Where, oh, where has Grandpa’s hair gone??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight, we had some candles burning on the bar in the kitchen.  Nora climbed up in a barstool and leaned over them.  Here’s the ensuing conversation:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nora:  “Ooh, that’s fiery.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keith:  “Be careful and don’t get your hair near them.  It’ll burn it off and you’ll look like Paw.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nora:  “Dad is that what happened to Paw.  Did he get caught in a fire?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those of you who do not know my father-in-law, he has been mostly bald since his twenties.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I am lucky that the conversation ended in innocence.  I’m sure at some point in her life Nora will hear the story of Dad, his buddies, a lighter, let’s just say a little natural gas and a not so fun way to learn the pain fire can cause.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ll spare you all the details and pray my little girl avoids the lighter.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1048395310456003100-3927288724169135077?l=thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/feeds/3927288724169135077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1048395310456003100&amp;postID=3927288724169135077' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/3927288724169135077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/3927288724169135077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/2008/11/couple-of-nora-stories.html' title='A Couple of Nora Stories . . .'/><author><name>The James Gang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01411624546084910806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048395310456003100.post-4809774742976788064</id><published>2008-11-09T19:40:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-09T19:44:35.901-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It's a Jungle Out There - Or In Here . . .</title><content type='html'>Ok.  So I'm really behind on posting.  There's a couple of new ones now, so read on.  Anyway, my little angel decided to only wear her Halloween costume on the day we got it in the mail.  I think one of the girls from our youth group got her to put it on for about 2 minutes on Halloween night, but not for anyone else to see.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's our little giraffe.  The only costume that she insisted on since we began asking her what she wanted to be.  I have to say, it was absolutely, too cute.  But I am biased.  Too bad the rest of the world didn't get to see her Trick-or-Treat in it!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/SRetxbEPVkI/AAAAAAAAAA0/G210UPM7lmI/s1600-h/Nora_Giraffe.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/SRetxbEPVkI/AAAAAAAAAA0/G210UPM7lmI/s320/Nora_Giraffe.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266869353823819330" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1048395310456003100-4809774742976788064?l=thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/feeds/4809774742976788064/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1048395310456003100&amp;postID=4809774742976788064' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/4809774742976788064'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/4809774742976788064'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/2008/11/its-jungle-out-there-or-in-here.html' title='It&apos;s a Jungle Out There - Or In Here . . .'/><author><name>The James Gang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01411624546084910806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/SRetxbEPVkI/AAAAAAAAAA0/G210UPM7lmI/s72-c/Nora_Giraffe.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048395310456003100.post-2634842440239472161</id><published>2008-11-09T19:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-09T19:37:07.303-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It’s the Great Pumpkin, Nora Faith!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;As I look at this picture, I look to the future. I look to the day that my beautiful baby girl weds the man of her dreams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I then think of the reception with all the food, fellowship, and that sentimental video playing of pictures from her childhood. Ah, the tears of joy and sadness that will come as memory after memory is flashed on the big screen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then this picture will appear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the tears will become the result of the laughter surrounding this photograph as I retell the story of the day at Burt’s Pumpkin Farm in Dawsonville, Georgia. I’ll recall what a germophobe I was and how I made my sweet little girl wear a pull-up that day so she wouldn’t have to use a Port-a-Potty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And as we walked among the huge pumpkins and selected one of our own, I will tell how we noticed Nora was hiding among the biggest. I thought that it was a great photo-op. However, my little girl looked up at me as I snapped picture after picture and sweetly said, “Mom, why are you taking pictures of me pooping?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes. The Great Pumpkin Poopfest. What fond memories I will be able to share as Nora not-so-proudly listens on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/SResHTn_IEI/AAAAAAAAAAs/i5EaxLm1gOw/s1600-h/Nora_Pumpkin4.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266867530760134722" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/SResHTn_IEI/AAAAAAAAAAs/i5EaxLm1gOw/s320/Nora_Pumpkin4.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is so great to be a parent. He! He!! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1048395310456003100-2634842440239472161?l=thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/feeds/2634842440239472161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1048395310456003100&amp;postID=2634842440239472161' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/2634842440239472161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/2634842440239472161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/2008/11/its-great-pumpkin-nora-faith.html' title='It’s the Great Pumpkin, Nora Faith!'/><author><name>The James Gang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01411624546084910806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/SResHTn_IEI/AAAAAAAAAAs/i5EaxLm1gOw/s72-c/Nora_Pumpkin4.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048395310456003100.post-7045443550290904740</id><published>2008-10-02T20:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-02T20:40:39.217-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Meme'/><title type='text'>Now I'm It</title><content type='html'>My good ol' buddy Shana tagged me for a meme.  Being new to the world de blog, I cannot meet all of the question requirements.  I will do my best to make her proud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rules:  Each player answers the questions themselves.  At the end of the post, the player then tags 5 people and posts their names, goes to their blogs to inform them they have been tagged by leaving a comment to read the tagger's blog, and letting those bloggers answer the questions themselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are the questions:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10 Years ago I:&lt;br /&gt;1.  had been married for 2 years.&lt;br /&gt;2.  was considered getting a dog (didn't happen for another year).&lt;br /&gt;3.  was working at Shaw as a Credit Secretary.&lt;br /&gt;4.  drove a green Ford Thunderbird.&lt;br /&gt;5.  stayed up and watched a tv show that I wanted to see instead of the latest Dora.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 things on today's "to do" list:&lt;br /&gt;1.  Put in a good day's work.&lt;br /&gt;2.  Pick up prescription from the doctor's office.&lt;br /&gt;3.  Go to Walmart to buy supplies for Nora and also for Keith's Sunday School class.&lt;br /&gt;4.  Pick up Nora.&lt;br /&gt;5.  Cook dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 snacks I enjoy:&lt;br /&gt;1.  Chips, salsa, and sour cream&lt;br /&gt;2.  Popcorn&lt;br /&gt;3.  Grapes&lt;br /&gt;4.  Hot Fries&lt;br /&gt;5.  Munchos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 places I have lived: &lt;br /&gt;1.   Split level on 41 Hwy.&lt;br /&gt;2.  First brick house on 41 Hwy.&lt;br /&gt;3.  Mom and Dad's current house, also on 41.&lt;br /&gt;4.  (Finally broke away from 41) Mobile home on Cleveland Hwy.&lt;br /&gt;5.  Current house in front of mobile home location on Cleveland Hwy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 jobs I have had:&lt;br /&gt;1.  Shop Rite cashier&lt;br /&gt;2.  Cashier at Lowes for 1 night.&lt;br /&gt;3.  Cash office clerk at Lowes after 1st night.&lt;br /&gt;4.  Credit Secretary at Shaw.&lt;br /&gt;5.  System Engineer at Shaw.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 people I tag:  (I only have 3 blogger buddies that Shana didn't already tag):&lt;br /&gt;1.  Carrie&lt;br /&gt;2.  Stacia&lt;br /&gt;3.  Cyndi&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1048395310456003100-7045443550290904740?l=thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/feeds/7045443550290904740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1048395310456003100&amp;postID=7045443550290904740' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/7045443550290904740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/7045443550290904740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/2008/10/now-im-it.html' title='Now I&apos;m It'/><author><name>The James Gang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01411624546084910806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048395310456003100.post-2764963992723380494</id><published>2008-09-30T19:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-30T19:16:36.036-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><title type='text'>My Thoughtful Baby Girl</title><content type='html'>So, today, Keith comes home from work exhausted. He is recovering from a migraine that he had yesterday. After talking with us for a few minutes, he sat down in the recliner and went to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nora and I were going to Hobby Lobby and to get groceries after he woke up. For quite awhile, she kept telling me to be quiet and not wake Daddy up. On a side note, she was definitely ON ONE today. She was cracking me up all evening. Anyway, I digress. Keith had been asleep for around 20 minutes or so when Nora decided he looked lonely. So she added her Tigger to his lap and told me that he would help daddy sleep. She quickly realized that was not enough and added 3 more stuffed toys to the mix. Hence, the below picture that I could not resist taking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/SOLb_JQqnEI/AAAAAAAAAAk/tvNoEi3LObY/s1600-h/Web+Dad+sleeping.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252001993331481666" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/SOLb_JQqnEI/AAAAAAAAAAk/tvNoEi3LObY/s320/Web+Dad+sleeping.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Granted, Keith is not 100% thrilled that I took the picture and even less thrilled that I am posting it for the blogging world to see, but how could I not let the world know how thoughtful my little girl is???&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1048395310456003100-2764963992723380494?l=thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/feeds/2764963992723380494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1048395310456003100&amp;postID=2764963992723380494' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/2764963992723380494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/2764963992723380494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/2008/09/my-thoughtful-baby-girl.html' title='My Thoughtful Baby Girl'/><author><name>The James Gang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01411624546084910806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/SOLb_JQqnEI/AAAAAAAAAAk/tvNoEi3LObY/s72-c/Web+Dad+sleeping.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048395310456003100.post-8181847002144472424</id><published>2008-09-29T13:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-29T14:15:09.858-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nora'/><title type='text'>A Note to Santa</title><content type='html'>Oh, yes. It is that time of year again. We have been asking Nora what she would like for Santa to bring her. Last year it was a bike, a bike hat (aka helmet), and drums. Of course, these items were all aglow on Christmas morning for her as she ran away crying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, this year we are hoping for a little more happiness on Christmas. When asked this year what she wants, Nora continuously says, "I still want a dolly house." Its the only thing she has consistently asked for, until this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She had a little accident last night that kept us up all night and so I stayed home with her today. As we sat on the couch watching volcano Dora for the third time, she pulled out the Fisher Price catalog that came in the mail and asked me to read it to her. I had her pick out what pages she wanted me to read. And I read. And read. And read. I sounded like an advertisement for them as I read all the little ads for the products they were selling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After quite a while of reading, she took the catalog from my hand and closed it. She then proceeded to give it back to me and said, "Tell Santa, I want everything."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enough said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, but I guess there is one more thing. Santa, if you're reading this, Nora wants everything in the Fisher-Price Fall 2008 Shop-at-Home Catalog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, she still wants that dolly house.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1048395310456003100-8181847002144472424?l=thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/feeds/8181847002144472424/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1048395310456003100&amp;postID=8181847002144472424' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/8181847002144472424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/8181847002144472424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/2008/09/note-to-santa.html' title='A Note to Santa'/><author><name>The James Gang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01411624546084910806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048395310456003100.post-8195273966819899007</id><published>2008-09-22T06:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-22T06:46:06.508-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Youth'/><title type='text'>I survived!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;I’ll tell you about Keith’s trip in a different post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn’t tell you how many pats on the back, hugs, and sympathetic comments I received at church yesterday. My pastor even congratulated my survival. We only had a few incidents that hindered our good times: &lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;One busted lip (my toddler)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;One head butt on the wall (also my toddler)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;One golf cart through my dog lot (more on that later)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;One teenager falling through the window of Jeep&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;One adult chaperone falling up the stairs (not me)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;One forgotten meal at lunch&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Two pre-teens mad at each other (one crying – then both over it in like 5 minutes)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other than that, we had a great time. We went to Rock City’s Enchanted Corn Maze. We had lunch and went back to my house to do a little hair dyeing. One of our girls had put some nice fire engine red highlights in her blond hair. So, I went and bought her a more natural, suitable color. That led to three others also wanting to enter the James Hair Salon. They ended up doing each others’ and I was able to avoid any blame if it had not turned out ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, I was upstairs minding my own business, when one of the younger girls came in and said, “They hit your dog gate with the golf cart.” In my mind, I envisioned the bottom of the gate pushed slightly inward or a little scratch. Oh, but no. It was not quite so simple. Granted, our dog lot leaves a lot to be desired, but given Smokie’s Senior Citizen status, there has not been much point in building a new one. Anyway, see the below picture:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/SNefn0VqF_I/AAAAAAAAAAU/Kk0Z2VuoYhg/s1600-h/DogLot.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248839397136799730" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/SNefn0VqF_I/AAAAAAAAAAU/Kk0Z2VuoYhg/s320/DogLot.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I can say is, Thank God for my father-in-law. One of the girls and I were able to hammer the top back together (that’s right, me with a hammer – they took a picture of that, too.). However, I still had no gate to keep Smokie contained. Gene came to my rescue with a large pallet, a metal stob, and a wire clothes hanger. Just call him MacGyver. So far, it has held up, not so easy on the eyes, but sufficient nonetheless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, we were late for church. Even though everyone had taken a shower Saturday night, they still needed a little coaxing to get out the door. Then we had to sit in line at McDonald’s for quite a while. You didn’t think I would actually get up and cook, did you??? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Here's one picture of some of the girls on the hayride. I don't have one on my camera of everyone together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/SNegY9h3soI/AAAAAAAAAAc/Avj1vA5_Yk0/s1600-h/Hayride.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248840241417532034" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/SNegY9h3soI/AAAAAAAAAAc/Avj1vA5_Yk0/s320/Hayride.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over all, roughing it in Varnell wasn’t so bad!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1048395310456003100-8195273966819899007?l=thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/feeds/8195273966819899007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1048395310456003100&amp;postID=8195273966819899007' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/8195273966819899007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/8195273966819899007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/2008/09/i-survived-ill-tell-you-about-keiths.html' title='I survived!'/><author><name>The James Gang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01411624546084910806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pmWwDT0tZhk/SNefn0VqF_I/AAAAAAAAAAU/Kk0Z2VuoYhg/s72-c/DogLot.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048395310456003100.post-1804046230136900579</id><published>2008-09-19T14:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-19T14:59:25.645-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><title type='text'>Roughing it in Varnell</title><content type='html'>Hi, all!  After much prodding and “encouragement” from my friends, I have finally started this blog.  I hope through this blog, I can keep our families and friends up-to-date on all of the important events in our lives (we’re such exciting people you know). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;What we’re up to this weekend:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Tonight we are taking Mom out to dinner for her birthday (it is the 23rd).  It will be Mom, Dad, Kimberly, Chris, Keith, Nora and me.  Ought to be fun times!!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Tomorrow morning we are meeting at church for the monthly Men’s Prayer Breakfast.  The men at our church graciously invited the ladies to join this time.  We will have breakfast (prepared by the men) and a guest speaker.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;After the Prayer Breakfast, Keith is taking the guys from our youth group camping in Dahlonega, GA.  Our Pastor’s son-in-law set up the arrangements.  The guys will be staying at a site where they can do all of that outdoorsy stuff that I so try to avoid.  Sunday morning, Keith will conduct a Worship Service at the campground.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;While Keith and the boys are roughing it, all the girls and I will be sitting nice and cool with no bugs, noises, or smells, in the comfort of our house (well I can at least hope for the no bugs thing – noises and smells may not be easily prevented).   The exciting part of our weekend will be seeing how 10-11 girls get ready for church all at the same time sharing 2 ½ bathrooms!!  I may be roughing it after all!!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ll let ya’ll know how it went and hopefully have some pictures from both camps. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FYI – I told the girls that I considered ‘roughing it’ having to sleep in a full-size bed in a hotel instead of a queen or king.  However, I offered to go if they really, really wanted to.  I had very few willing to do without their hair dryers and curling irons.  I’m so heartbroken!! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1048395310456003100-1804046230136900579?l=thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/feeds/1804046230136900579/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1048395310456003100&amp;postID=1804046230136900579' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/1804046230136900579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1048395310456003100/posts/default/1804046230136900579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thevarnelljamesgang.blogspot.com/2008/09/roughing-it-in-varnell.html' title='Roughing it in Varnell'/><author><name>The James Gang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01411624546084910806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
