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Happy Birthday to me:
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A fireman, a kitten, and margaritas.
I’d better go check on that fire that I set earlier smell in the back yard…..

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Happy Birthday to me:
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A fireman, a kitten, and margaritas.
I’d better go check on that fire that I set earlier smell in the back yard…..
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Whenever we go to visit Paul’s mom, we know that there is always going to be pie.
Mary has these wonderful old cookbooks filled with recipes from long ago – all of those little “church” and “small town” cookbooks fit into one of her kitchen drawers. All of the recipes that Paul and his siblings grew up on are in that little drawer, and now that all of them are grown, those recipes have been copied and taken to new homes.
While Paul is perfectly happy with just pouring a can of cherry pie filling into a crust and calling it a day, I fell in love with the buttermilk pie that Mary makes – it’s sweet and lemony and oh-so-good.
The lovely actress Teresa Wright
Growing up, I always wondered why my parents had named me “Teresa“. It isn’t a particularly common name (“Theresa” did make it to #65 in 1950); I lost track of the number of “Mary”s I grew up with, however!
The only other girl I knew in Elementary School who shared my name was a friend’s little sister – she was the 3rd or 4th daughter in a Catholic family, and I remember thinking that they must have run out of names by the time she came along (come to think of it, “Teresa” was her middle name; three guesses what her first name was….)
Don’t get me wrong – I like my name; it’s just that I never really had anything that I could point to as a kid and say, “Hey, look – there’s my name!” (that all changed in 1988, when Mattel introduced their “Teresa” Barbie, but by that time I was already a mom).
When we went on vacation, my sister (Beverly) and I would always look for something with our name on it – a cheap license plate, a mug, a thimble, a necklace, etc. Bev lucked out more often than I did. Most of the time there was a space – and sometimes even a product – for “Terry” (which, I’m told, was originally going to be my name, until I was born; Mom took one look at me and declared that I “didn’t look like a Terry”, so “Teresa” I became) or “Theresa”, but very rarely was there a spot for something with a “Teresa” on it.
And when there was, it was ALWAYS empty. Apparently all of the other “Teresa”s had gotten there before me….
My friend Bob passed these along a while back (go pee first….):
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Chick-Fil-A is closed on Sundays 😦 , so you’ll have to wait until tomorrow to get yourself some of that yummy goodness (it’s worth the wait…).
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One of the joys of having a child with Down syndrome is that they are constantly reminding you of the truly important things in life, simply by living a life full of joy and happiness. They live each day to the fullest, and they live each day full of love.
For Rebecca’s birthday a few years ago, we took her to see the new Pixar movie “Brave”. Rachel was in town on a business trip, so she met us at the theater. It was a real treat for Rebecca to have her big sister there – it meant an extra lap that she could sit in if things got too scary.
The movie was REALLY good – if you haven’t already seen it, I highly recommend it. I don’t want to spoil it for anyone who hasn’t seen it; suffice it to say that it is a wonderful movie about the bonds within a family and the power of love.
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Today is “Lola”‘s 8th birthday, so I thought I would re-run this post from 2012:
….and whatever Lola wants, Lola is gonna get.
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(October is Down Syndrome Awareness Month; this post – originally posted in 2011 – highlights just one more thing that many people don’t know about the DS population)
As many of you know, our youngest daughter, Rebecca, was born with Down syndrome. When we found out that we were (surprise!) expecting a fourth child, we made a conscious decision NOT to have certain prenatal tests done. I will freely admit that I am not nearly as noble as I would like to think that I am; I didn’t want to even entertain the idea of someone asking me if I wanted to make a “choice”.
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“Fall” in Texas doesn’t really start until mid-October most years. Today, we’ve got a blustery wind blowing in, and the leaves are starting to swirl around. The temperatures are getting nippy (for Texas), and the dogs want to be outside longer as the days get shorter.
I love this time of year. Apparently musicians both classical and contemporary do, too – here is the hauntingly beautiful “October“, composed by Eric Whitacre. Originally written for a wind orchestra, it translates beautifully to a string arrangement:
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“October” (wind orchestral arrangement) is only available in the MP3 format.
(Mr. Whitacre has an amazing body of work)
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I suppose every generation has its share of “Where were you when….?” moments – those “somethings” that happen that are so big, so life-altering, and which affect so many people that the vast majority of them have a memory etched into their mind of where they were when they heard the news, how they felt when they heard the news, and how it changed their life forever.
I can still remember that morning – it started off like any other morning. Rachel had gotten up early and was already dressed and on her way to high school with her friends, Michelle and Sarah were getting ready for school, and Paul was getting ready for work. I was resting in bed, waiting for Rebecca – who had turned 2 months old the day before – to wake up for her morning bottle.
Paul came into the bedroom and said he had just heard on the radio that a plane had hit the World Trade Center and it was on fire.