<?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-1781026807930430892</id><updated>2011-07-07T18:23:35.284-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mom's Memoirs</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>The Cook's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16653767762054938346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yaBx-SKc314/Sr1v0DLnKKI/AAAAAAAAAPc/VSxpXodTaSw/S220/IMG_0013.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>21</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1781026807930430892.post-2592933517125276322</id><published>2009-11-02T06:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-02T06:00:11.735-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Winter, Winter, Why Are You Here?</title><content type='html'>Wintry days, wintry days where do you begin&lt;br /&gt;Right behind fall so severe and done in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We feel so lost, so lonely and cold&lt;br /&gt;Why do you come?  Is it to rob our soul? &lt;br /&gt;Even the Bible states so plain&lt;br /&gt;Not in the winter our flight to begin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Winter, Winter why are you here?&lt;br /&gt;We say for glad tidings and to bring good cheer&lt;br /&gt;But we often find doubt coupled with such fear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are so dark so cold and bleak&lt;br /&gt;Flowers can’t bloom and birds hardly tweet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Animals are cold in your wintry air, &lt;br /&gt;They huddle and scurry for shelter somewhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Winter, winter why are you’re here?&lt;br /&gt;It's God’s plan of that I am sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m sure you bring something nothing else can&lt;br /&gt;You have a purpose throughout the land.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, while I sit lonely in your cold grasp&lt;br /&gt;I await your departure, your departure at last.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Winter, Winter, why are you Here? &lt;br /&gt;Get out of my life…stay away from me&lt;br /&gt;Go back inside from wherever you be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bring me the spring in its beauty so gay&lt;br /&gt;Flowers all abloom and a bright shiny day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1781026807930430892-2592933517125276322?l=mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/feeds/2592933517125276322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/11/winter-winter-why-are-you-here.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/2592933517125276322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/2592933517125276322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/11/winter-winter-why-are-you-here.html' title='Winter, Winter, Why Are You Here?'/><author><name>The Cook's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16653767762054938346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yaBx-SKc314/Sr1v0DLnKKI/AAAAAAAAAPc/VSxpXodTaSw/S220/IMG_0013.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1781026807930430892.post-8702832734891937957</id><published>2009-11-01T06:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-01T06:00:04.350-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fall</title><content type='html'>Did you see it? Did you catch it?  Or, did it pass you by?&lt;br /&gt;Why, it was a gentle stir as a bird flitting in the sky.&lt;br /&gt;It was nature’s grand entry to a new day&lt;br /&gt;The coming of fall… in all it’s array&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It happens overnight or so it seems&lt;br /&gt;Sneaking in behind a full moon&lt;br /&gt;Maybe in a gentle breeze.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can see it in your travels &lt;br /&gt;It just suddenly appears&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps in the leaves or the goldenrod spears&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God seems to change the complexion of the land&lt;br /&gt;So carefully, so subtle with his gentle hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He brings the red grass and gentle yellow blooms&lt;br /&gt;To grace the countryside and lighten the gloom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Summer with it arid, dry devastation&lt;br /&gt;Seems to rob the beauty of his creation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, but alas, the fall, comes with freshness in its wings&lt;br /&gt;Lighting upon our lives, it’s such a beautiful thing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1781026807930430892-8702832734891937957?l=mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/feeds/8702832734891937957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/11/fall.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/8702832734891937957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/8702832734891937957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/11/fall.html' title='Fall'/><author><name>The Cook's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16653767762054938346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yaBx-SKc314/Sr1v0DLnKKI/AAAAAAAAAPc/VSxpXodTaSw/S220/IMG_0013.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1781026807930430892.post-7624722446763622771</id><published>2009-10-31T06:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-31T06:00:06.751-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Haunted House</title><content type='html'>My grandma wrote this... that makes it even more special!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Haunted House by Hazel Chilton&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friends and I entered an old haunted house.&lt;br /&gt;With a creaky door and a fast running mouse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the corner of this old room&lt;br /&gt;Stood a witches’ hat on an old straw broom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before we knew it, she ran for the broom&lt;br /&gt;And was off in a second straight for the moon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We stepped to the window and looked to the sky-&lt;br /&gt;All we could see was a silhouette sailing high.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder where she will go and what she will do&lt;br /&gt;You had better watch out&lt;br /&gt;She might scare you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1781026807930430892-7624722446763622771?l=mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/feeds/7624722446763622771/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/10/haunted-house.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/7624722446763622771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/7624722446763622771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/10/haunted-house.html' title='Haunted House'/><author><name>The Cook's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16653767762054938346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yaBx-SKc314/Sr1v0DLnKKI/AAAAAAAAAPc/VSxpXodTaSw/S220/IMG_0013.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1781026807930430892.post-6590154991223238134</id><published>2009-10-24T06:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-24T06:00:02.248-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Love Fall</title><content type='html'>I love Fall, so crisp and clean&lt;br /&gt;Such an aura of excitement it seems.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The trees all glistening in their new found dress&lt;br /&gt;Tending the squirrels in their cozy nests.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hurry, scurry, scamp and run&lt;br /&gt;It won’t be long till you’ll hear the gun..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hunters all clad in their season’s best&lt;br /&gt;Hearts all thumping  staying ahead of the rest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tis a season to be free…&lt;br /&gt;Fresh outdoors, a gentle breeze.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frying up bacon, fresh in a pan&lt;br /&gt;Eating sausages from a can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s part of the season, pumpkins and all&lt;br /&gt;Leaves all falling... fall... fall... fall...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Raking and burning, bundling up against the wind&lt;br /&gt;Time for family, loving and friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love the fall and all it brings, football, fairs, &lt;br /&gt;Parades and things…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All too soon, it comes to an end…&lt;br /&gt;then comes the winter&lt;br /&gt;And nature’s new spin…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, alas, I love you, Fall, &lt;br /&gt;Please come again soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ll wait with patience your beauty to consume.&lt;br /&gt;I will find you again&lt;br /&gt;Through the window of a hot, summery day…&lt;br /&gt;Ahh... Comes the fall&lt;br /&gt;In it’s new array…..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1781026807930430892-6590154991223238134?l=mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/feeds/6590154991223238134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-love-fall.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/6590154991223238134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/6590154991223238134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-love-fall.html' title='I Love Fall'/><author><name>The Cook's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16653767762054938346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yaBx-SKc314/Sr1v0DLnKKI/AAAAAAAAAPc/VSxpXodTaSw/S220/IMG_0013.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1781026807930430892.post-5158803702975131998</id><published>2009-10-23T06:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-23T06:00:04.317-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Silly</title><content type='html'>I love to be silly&lt;br /&gt;No matter what age I may be.&lt;br /&gt;Silly is so fun and&lt;br /&gt;Breaks barriers you see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Silly has no limits&lt;br /&gt;As it can go anywhere.&lt;br /&gt;It is so much fun to be silly&lt;br /&gt;So much happiness there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got a sad situation?&lt;br /&gt;And so much sorrow everywhere?&lt;br /&gt;Just let silly in&lt;br /&gt;Silly doesn’t care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A smile it can bring&lt;br /&gt;It knows no despair&lt;br /&gt;Silly can help anybody&lt;br /&gt;Turn any darkness into fair.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1781026807930430892-5158803702975131998?l=mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/feeds/5158803702975131998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/10/silly.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/5158803702975131998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/5158803702975131998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/10/silly.html' title='Silly'/><author><name>The Cook's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16653767762054938346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yaBx-SKc314/Sr1v0DLnKKI/AAAAAAAAAPc/VSxpXodTaSw/S220/IMG_0013.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1781026807930430892.post-8953247338188734867</id><published>2009-10-22T06:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-22T06:44:00.716-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Game</title><content type='html'>Ummm, the smell of worn leather as I pull out my mitt&lt;br /&gt;  I thought I would toss around the ball a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The overwhelming desire to score a run&lt;br /&gt;  To hear the coach say “well done.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The crack of the bat, dug-out chatter&lt;br /&gt;  These are things that really matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see, Spring’s in the air and my day has come&lt;br /&gt;  This is the year I’ll hit a home run.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nine years old and full of vim&lt;br /&gt;  Nothing can stop me, I won’t give in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To strike outs, double plays and trouble ahead&lt;br /&gt;  I’ll keep on going... that’s what I said!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love baseball and all that it is,&lt;br /&gt;  Cheering fans and teams of kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s here we learn the principles of life&lt;br /&gt;  Like teamwork, sharing and taking a strike.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks, Dad for taking me out to the field&lt;br /&gt;  For being there with me and teaching me skills.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A parent myself I use them today.&lt;br /&gt;  I take my boys and show them the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things you taught me, too precious to name&lt;br /&gt;  I only hope I can help them throughout life’s game.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1781026807930430892-8953247338188734867?l=mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/feeds/8953247338188734867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/10/game.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/8953247338188734867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/8953247338188734867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/10/game.html' title='The Game'/><author><name>The Cook's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16653767762054938346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yaBx-SKc314/Sr1v0DLnKKI/AAAAAAAAAPc/VSxpXodTaSw/S220/IMG_0013.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1781026807930430892.post-426597819902112828</id><published>2009-10-21T15:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-21T15:44:34.998-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Girl and the Sea</title><content type='html'>High upon the hillside beside the seashore&lt;br /&gt;I loved to watch the ships as they passed below&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Carrying cargo to places unknown&lt;br /&gt;This was my world, my palace, my home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The whales were passing and spouting along&lt;br /&gt;Jumping like dolphins; having so much fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was here that I pondered what life would bring&lt;br /&gt;It was here that I dreamed of faraway things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life was so simple and peaceful to me; &lt;br /&gt;Just me and my animals high above the sea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hear the waves crashing and the sea lions roar&lt;br /&gt;The shore was my playground; I played upon its floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here I could be whoever I pleased.&lt;br /&gt;There’s no one to challenge or hinder me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rocks held such mystery that was mine alone to hold&lt;br /&gt;Its crevices filled with treasures of gold&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Such things as starfish, and sea anemones..&lt;br /&gt;Mine alone to touch, to savor, to feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soon the spell is broken as her voice I do hear&lt;br /&gt;It is mother calling… calling me from here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to reality….. to supper and bedtime.&lt;br /&gt;Once again I will rest and tomorrow will rise&lt;br /&gt;And run to the sea that is all mine!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1781026807930430892-426597819902112828?l=mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/feeds/426597819902112828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/10/girl-and-sea.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/426597819902112828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/426597819902112828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/10/girl-and-sea.html' title='The Girl and the Sea'/><author><name>The Cook's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16653767762054938346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yaBx-SKc314/Sr1v0DLnKKI/AAAAAAAAAPc/VSxpXodTaSw/S220/IMG_0013.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1781026807930430892.post-8615037729055665230</id><published>2009-09-24T07:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-24T07:13:00.993-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life Is A Challenge</title><content type='html'>Mom is not the only inspired writer in the family.  Dad composed and emailed this to us a while back... I love it because our parents words live on forever when we have them in written form.  I'm so thankful for godly parents!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Life is a challenge&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Childhood, teen survival, marriage, kids and times that are sometimes hard.&lt;br /&gt;You have to be strong,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It takes faith, courage, commitment and a great big wonderful Lord!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;God is our Refuge,&lt;br /&gt;From every trial big and small.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From misfortune, unfair circumstances, broken promises, things we don’t understand,&lt;br /&gt;He is always with us through it all.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I thank Him for my family,&lt;br /&gt;My spouse and all the wise Godly counsel I have heard,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For all the blessings God has sent my way&lt;br /&gt;But most of all for His Comforting and Powerful Word.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;It is a lamp unto my feet,&lt;br /&gt;A light to my path, it shows me the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It helps me to overcome,&lt;br /&gt;Every untrue and deceitful thing that people do and say.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;His Word is true,&lt;br /&gt;If two agree in prayer, truth and purpose of life;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It will come to pass,&lt;br /&gt;And for that I have the blessing of a wonderful agreeing and praying wife.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;We stand firm,&lt;br /&gt;Integrity, truth, faith, character, trust and love;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank God for providing me,&lt;br /&gt;With a wife Heaven Sent from above.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;From her own words…”Never give up,&lt;br /&gt;Never let your expectations take a dive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is always that chance,&lt;br /&gt;Good fortune or a miracle may arrive.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Time passes, changes take place,&lt;br /&gt;Surprises are never out of sight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A shocking and surprising miracle,&lt;br /&gt;May come to you as a thief in the night.”&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;God is in control,&lt;br /&gt;We should never question Why or When?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We may not understand,&lt;br /&gt;But we know who wins in the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1781026807930430892-8615037729055665230?l=mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/feeds/8615037729055665230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/09/life-is-challenge.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/8615037729055665230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/8615037729055665230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/09/life-is-challenge.html' title='Life Is A Challenge'/><author><name>The Cook's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16653767762054938346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yaBx-SKc314/Sr1v0DLnKKI/AAAAAAAAAPc/VSxpXodTaSw/S220/IMG_0013.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1781026807930430892.post-1409963088313859100</id><published>2009-09-23T11:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T11:21:44.683-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Neglected Yellow Rose</title><content type='html'>High against the window sill&lt;br /&gt;Growing and thriving as if tended still&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time has come and gone&lt;br /&gt;And left the paint all cracked and dried&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The windows are all broken&lt;br /&gt;And the wind lows inside&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though unsightly and abused&lt;br /&gt;The outside seems to be&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The neglected yellow rose&lt;br /&gt;Still blooms beautifully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Old toys strewn about &lt;br /&gt;tell of childish encounters galore&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A place where once were fun times, &lt;br /&gt;adventures and more…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where did it all begin?&lt;br /&gt;The ending I do mean&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How did once a place so lively &lt;br /&gt;become so gaunt and so lean?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s a story so familiar &lt;br /&gt;as time races by&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Left empty and unattended, &lt;br /&gt;devastation takes a rise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps the yellow rose &lt;br /&gt;has a story it can tell&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of how it survived, &lt;br /&gt;though left abandoned, yet does so well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Drinking in the rain, &lt;br /&gt;and the sun as it does shine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Living out its life, &lt;br /&gt;one day at a time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1781026807930430892-1409963088313859100?l=mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/feeds/1409963088313859100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/09/neglected-yellow-rose.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/1409963088313859100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/1409963088313859100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/09/neglected-yellow-rose.html' title='The Neglected Yellow Rose'/><author><name>The Cook's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16653767762054938346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yaBx-SKc314/Sr1v0DLnKKI/AAAAAAAAAPc/VSxpXodTaSw/S220/IMG_0013.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1781026807930430892.post-825691445895127924</id><published>2009-05-19T08:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-19T08:33:36.015-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Through A Mother's Eyes</title><content type='html'>I saw you today in your manly attire&lt;br /&gt;And could not believe it&lt;br /&gt;How you’ve aspired&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To lofty heights and places unknown&lt;br /&gt;With wisdom and stature&lt;br /&gt;My little boy was gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where did you go in so short a time?&lt;br /&gt;Where’s my little boy with his nursery rhymes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who played at my feet with a twinkle in his eye?&lt;br /&gt;When cowboys and Indians were his favorite pastime?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now you’re a man and how you have grown!&lt;br /&gt;You’re busy I see with your own home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, you’ll always be just my little boy&lt;br /&gt;I’ll always see you as before&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That same little face and impish smile&lt;br /&gt;Those cute little hands…so cunning and sly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know you are in there&lt;br /&gt;You are the same to me&lt;br /&gt;I love you still as when you were three.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1781026807930430892-825691445895127924?l=mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/feeds/825691445895127924/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/05/through-mothers-eyes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/825691445895127924'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/825691445895127924'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/05/through-mothers-eyes.html' title='Through A Mother&apos;s Eyes'/><author><name>The Cook's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16653767762054938346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yaBx-SKc314/Sr1v0DLnKKI/AAAAAAAAAPc/VSxpXodTaSw/S220/IMG_0013.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1781026807930430892.post-5823645083947057540</id><published>2009-05-14T05:58:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-14T06:14:15.922-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mother's Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;To the most wonderful mother in the entire world! We love you, Mom!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Me, Mom, Damon &amp;amp; Darrin &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yaBx-SKc314/SgwW0b88fzI/AAAAAAAAAOk/BO4S27xzenk/s1600-h/IMG_1811.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335664748639584050" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yaBx-SKc314/SgwW0b88fzI/AAAAAAAAAOk/BO4S27xzenk/s200/IMG_1811.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Dave&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yaBx-SKc314/SgwYa4AceBI/AAAAAAAAAO0/bfifDs-nR58/s1600-h/IMG_1798.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 150px; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335666508517111826" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yaBx-SKc314/SgwYa4AceBI/AAAAAAAAAO0/bfifDs-nR58/s200/IMG_1798.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Me &amp;amp; Mom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yaBx-SKc314/SgwVypdBcjI/AAAAAAAAAOc/B5XRLOgGoOk/s1600-h/IMG_1806.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 150px; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335663618392420914" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yaBx-SKc314/SgwVypdBcjI/AAAAAAAAAOc/B5XRLOgGoOk/s200/IMG_1806.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1781026807930430892-5823645083947057540?l=mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/feeds/5823645083947057540/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/05/mothers-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/5823645083947057540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/5823645083947057540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/05/mothers-day.html' title='Mother&apos;s Day'/><author><name>The Cook's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16653767762054938346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yaBx-SKc314/Sr1v0DLnKKI/AAAAAAAAAPc/VSxpXodTaSw/S220/IMG_0013.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yaBx-SKc314/SgwW0b88fzI/AAAAAAAAAOk/BO4S27xzenk/s72-c/IMG_1811.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1781026807930430892.post-8439813116765264272</id><published>2009-04-01T10:50:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T10:50:49.411-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Mirror</title><content type='html'>I looked today,  what did I see?&lt;br /&gt;Why I saw my Mom looking back at me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought she was forever gone&lt;br /&gt;Never to be seen&lt;br /&gt;But I was fooled, she lives today&lt;br /&gt;She is living through me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How did that happen?&lt;br /&gt;How can this be?&lt;br /&gt;I thought she was her and that&lt;br /&gt;I was me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, suddenly it happened,&lt;br /&gt;Overnight it seems&lt;br /&gt;The little girl in the mirror&lt;br /&gt;Is she not me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1781026807930430892-8439813116765264272?l=mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/feeds/8439813116765264272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/04/mirror.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/8439813116765264272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/8439813116765264272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/04/mirror.html' title='The Mirror'/><author><name>The Cook's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16653767762054938346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yaBx-SKc314/Sr1v0DLnKKI/AAAAAAAAAPc/VSxpXodTaSw/S220/IMG_0013.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1781026807930430892.post-4107357009491779984</id><published>2009-02-25T09:46:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-25T09:47:33.716-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Life</title><content type='html'>New and fresh, smells so sweet&lt;br /&gt;Soft and gentle, innocent it seems.&lt;br /&gt;Days of birth are happy times, times of giggles&lt;br /&gt;Laughter and nursery rhymes.&lt;br /&gt;           &lt;br /&gt;Than comes teens with difficulties galore&lt;br /&gt;Mom and dad screaming and slamming the door&lt;br /&gt;Misunderstandings and tears it brings&lt;br /&gt;Along with growing and learning things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally it comes though I thought it never would&lt;br /&gt;Confident and sure I’ve reached adulthood.&lt;br /&gt;I enjoy my new life with its wisdom and fun&lt;br /&gt;Only to learn it was short, it’s almost done!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just when I thought I knew it all&lt;br /&gt;Along comes old age and a great pitfall.&lt;br /&gt;I don’t see things like I used to see&lt;br /&gt;Where did life go?  How can this be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is short, but can be sweet&lt;br /&gt;Live every day with love and belief.&lt;br /&gt;Raise great kids and carry them through&lt;br /&gt;Before you know it, they’ll carry you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1781026807930430892-4107357009491779984?l=mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/feeds/4107357009491779984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/02/life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/4107357009491779984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/4107357009491779984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/02/life.html' title='Life'/><author><name>The Cook's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16653767762054938346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yaBx-SKc314/Sr1v0DLnKKI/AAAAAAAAAPc/VSxpXodTaSw/S220/IMG_0013.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1781026807930430892.post-7202555341846555850</id><published>2009-02-19T08:23:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T09:14:09.788-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Blind Date</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;This is the true story of my parent's first date. They are truly a match made in Heaven... a perfect balance. She wrote this today and I absolutely love it!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Blind Date...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, she told me he was great and used such adjectives to describe his talents that I thought, “Surely, if he is in his right mind, he would never ask me for a date!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is the problem? Can this be? Why would someone so handsome and debonair desire a date with me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw by his picture that he was someone to be desired, but did some other mysterious problem lie behind this elegant disguise?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His eyes were to “die for” and that handsome little smile I am sure he was his mother’s favorite… and the envy of all the other guys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is he short? Does he studder? Does he have no teeth? Surely something is amiss if he has asked you a date for him to seek.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will take a chance. I am sure I will not like him. Why, with all his boastful talents his ego seems pretty frightful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seven o’clock came and I waited patiently, pondering if I was smart to agree to such a thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When there he appeared at the door just as we had planned, but something special caught my eye and I must admit it was truly grand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In place of a grand entry, he stumbled instead… trying to maintain his composure, his face a crimson red!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahhh… I said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why, this is no egotistical snob as I supposed he would be, he is just a real person… just the one for me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw in that very moment, a destiny it seems. This is the one I want… perhaps for all eternity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cannot explain it… it is silly it seems. But in a fleeting moment I had to grasp what was meant to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I was young and I know we had only just met.&lt;br /&gt;But this would be one of the moments that I would never regret.&lt;br /&gt;What I saw that night is hard to describe, but this beautiful person was truly hiding in disguise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beneath that façade lay a heart of gold… one who loved little children and had respect for those that were old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He cared about the poor and could mingle with the rich… he truly has a talent; no I would call it a gift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It proved to be true and it’s been 42 years you see, since my Prince Charming stumbled into my heart..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stumbling time was over&lt;br /&gt;and we moved on to greater parts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There came four children and a menagerie of pets&lt;br /&gt;Lots of fun with heartaches, but never any regrets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some things in life just happen, but you must be willing to take a risk&lt;br /&gt;Even when you can’t figure out every little bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have to go with the moment and don’t let it pass you by.&lt;br /&gt;You’ll never know what you miss, if you don’t give it a try.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1781026807930430892-7202555341846555850?l=mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/feeds/7202555341846555850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/02/blind-date.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/7202555341846555850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/7202555341846555850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/02/blind-date.html' title='The Blind Date'/><author><name>The Cook's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16653767762054938346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yaBx-SKc314/Sr1v0DLnKKI/AAAAAAAAAPc/VSxpXodTaSw/S220/IMG_0013.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1781026807930430892.post-5936536874510514425</id><published>2009-02-13T09:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-13T09:53:48.990-08:00</updated><title type='text'>As Far As I Can See</title><content type='html'>Just imagine if you will&lt;br /&gt;What life would be like&lt;br /&gt;If we could be still&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just who we imagined that we could be&lt;br /&gt;Instead of turning out like you see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, a princess is what I would choose&lt;br /&gt;With royal robes and servants to boot!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why the palace so regal with windows so high&lt;br /&gt;I would have to hire someone who could fly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To clean every crevice and entryway hall&lt;br /&gt;Oh it would be grand, I’d have a ball!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would eat caviar and drink wine to excess&lt;br /&gt;And would never do a dish and would make such a mess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There would be someone to bathe me and fix up my hair&lt;br /&gt;I would be so giddy and wouldn’t have a care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dreams would never end and happy ever after I’d be&lt;br /&gt;Because my imagination can take me as far as I can see.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1781026807930430892-5936536874510514425?l=mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/feeds/5936536874510514425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/02/as-far-as-i-can-see.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/5936536874510514425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/5936536874510514425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/02/as-far-as-i-can-see.html' title='As Far As I Can See'/><author><name>The Cook's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16653767762054938346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yaBx-SKc314/Sr1v0DLnKKI/AAAAAAAAAPc/VSxpXodTaSw/S220/IMG_0013.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1781026807930430892.post-3703628861596377937</id><published>2009-02-11T11:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T11:09:02.439-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Past Scents</title><content type='html'>Today I caught a whiff of somewhere long ago&lt;br /&gt;A familiar scent of some place I use to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It brought a warm feeling&lt;br /&gt;That flowed over me&lt;br /&gt;I could see myself somewhere else&lt;br /&gt;I could sense a place I use to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe the seashore on a warm balmy day&lt;br /&gt;High above the cliffs where I use to play.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It flooded me with memories of days and happy times&lt;br /&gt;With me and my family all out in the sunshine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom and dad were fishing while we all played along&lt;br /&gt;Tossing rocks and skipping, so carefree and strong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scents are wonderful things to take us to the past&lt;br /&gt;Where we can relive moments that we wish could ever last.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1781026807930430892-3703628861596377937?l=mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/feeds/3703628861596377937/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/02/past-scents.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/3703628861596377937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/3703628861596377937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/02/past-scents.html' title='Past Scents'/><author><name>The Cook's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16653767762054938346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yaBx-SKc314/Sr1v0DLnKKI/AAAAAAAAAPc/VSxpXodTaSw/S220/IMG_0013.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1781026807930430892.post-6945921731781764177</id><published>2009-02-09T06:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-09T07:01:52.975-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tribute to Hazel Chilton</title><content type='html'>Today is actually my birthday so I feel really sentimental... I wanted to share this tribute to my grandmother that Mom wrote last year.  We miss her terribly.  She was so funny and so full of life!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I THOUGHT OF YOU TODAY&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I thought of you today, mom&lt;br /&gt;When I saw the flowers blooming so&lt;br /&gt;It made me think of you from days not so long ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remembered how you loved them and tended them with care&lt;br /&gt;It makes me sad in a way&lt;br /&gt;How I wish you were here!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I see your smile and patient way that only you could give&lt;br /&gt;Those are things money cannot buy&lt;br /&gt;You showed us how to live&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your life was one of simplicity that loved the little things&lt;br /&gt;You were thankful in so many ways for all&lt;br /&gt;That life could bring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Complaining was not your plight&lt;br /&gt;Though circumstances could demand&lt;br /&gt;You chose rather praise and good deeds were in your hand!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You always brought us laughter, fun times and&lt;br /&gt;Goodies to eat.&lt;br /&gt;It was in your little house we’d gather….such a royal retreat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though your face I cannot see today your memory runs clear&lt;br /&gt;Someone I shall never forget someone who is so dear!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            Tribute to Hazel C. Chilton – Born 1-07-22&lt;br /&gt;            Lived a rich, full, wonderful life until 5-12-07&lt;br /&gt;            Leaves a legacy of love to, Michael, Delaine and Suzanne, her grandchildren, great grand children and one little great, great grand child.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1781026807930430892-6945921731781764177?l=mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/feeds/6945921731781764177/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/02/tribute-to-hazel-chilton.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/6945921731781764177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/6945921731781764177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/02/tribute-to-hazel-chilton.html' title='Tribute to Hazel Chilton'/><author><name>The Cook's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16653767762054938346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yaBx-SKc314/Sr1v0DLnKKI/AAAAAAAAAPc/VSxpXodTaSw/S220/IMG_0013.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1781026807930430892.post-1058742846528095627</id><published>2009-02-07T09:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-07T09:38:38.548-08:00</updated><title type='text'>To Go Free</title><content type='html'>How did I get here?  When did it start?&lt;br /&gt;Time is fleeting, like a dart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was alone and then it appeared&lt;br /&gt;Just as a sunrise so predictable and clear&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It came as a wind so quiet and still&lt;br /&gt;I hardly noticed…&lt;br /&gt;How do I get out of here?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s like a web, spun so fine&lt;br /&gt;I can’t find the beginning nor the line.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How did it start, what did I say?&lt;br /&gt;I didn’t mean it… that was yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought I was safe, I thought no one knew&lt;br /&gt;But then there it was in plain view.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just like the headlines, blaring at me&lt;br /&gt;On the front page for everyone to see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s the deceiver who deceived&lt;br /&gt;He made me do it and now it’s conceived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, it wasn’t.  I must admit.&lt;br /&gt;It’s my own ambition that gave me the slip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought big thoughts only for me…not thinking of others&lt;br /&gt;Or what things should be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Father, forgive me….take it away..it is my sin…I must pay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, He says, give it to me..&lt;br /&gt;I’ll make nothing of it for you see…&lt;br /&gt;I gave my best so you could be&lt;br /&gt;The one who does wrong ...but gets to go free.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1781026807930430892-1058742846528095627?l=mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/feeds/1058742846528095627/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/02/to-go-free.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/1058742846528095627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/1058742846528095627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/02/to-go-free.html' title='To Go Free'/><author><name>The Cook's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16653767762054938346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yaBx-SKc314/Sr1v0DLnKKI/AAAAAAAAAPc/VSxpXodTaSw/S220/IMG_0013.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1781026807930430892.post-3547039990484560768</id><published>2009-02-06T07:30:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-06T07:31:27.733-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fool's Lament</title><content type='html'>In the shadows of a lonely night&lt;br /&gt;I clung to my pillow&lt;br /&gt;And fled the light.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pain was too deep my sorrow to sore&lt;br /&gt;No one could help me open the door&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leave me alone, let me be&lt;br /&gt;I want my pity, just pity me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am alone and no other can share&lt;br /&gt;For no one knows the pain I bear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By intruders I am captured, my soul is enslaved&lt;br /&gt;I am a prisoner of my own doing&lt;br /&gt;I have dug my own grave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here I will lie till destiny calls&lt;br /&gt;To a deep dark crevice&lt;br /&gt;Of hell’s great walls&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To live out eternity forever to die&lt;br /&gt;Among those who were as foolish as I.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Author: Suzanne M.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1781026807930430892-3547039990484560768?l=mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/feeds/3547039990484560768/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/02/fools-lament.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/3547039990484560768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/3547039990484560768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/02/fools-lament.html' title='Fool&apos;s Lament'/><author><name>The Cook's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16653767762054938346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yaBx-SKc314/Sr1v0DLnKKI/AAAAAAAAAPc/VSxpXodTaSw/S220/IMG_0013.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1781026807930430892.post-2084964868204994080</id><published>2009-02-05T06:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T06:55:20.006-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Place I Can Go</title><content type='html'>There is a place that I can go&lt;br /&gt;A place that no one else knows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A place for me, it is all mine&lt;br /&gt;Things done there no one will find.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can travel far or just stay near&lt;br /&gt;It is all silent, no one can hear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where is this place, a haven you see?&lt;br /&gt;It is in my mind, it is the real me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is here that I soar&lt;br /&gt;And climb mountain tops high.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fight my own battles&lt;br /&gt;It is here that I cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not ashamed for no one else knows&lt;br /&gt;Who I really am or where I really go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who are we really or do we know&lt;br /&gt;They say it is when you are alone that your real self shows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Author:  Suzanne M.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1781026807930430892-2084964868204994080?l=mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/feeds/2084964868204994080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/02/place-i-can-go.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/2084964868204994080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/2084964868204994080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/02/place-i-can-go.html' title='A Place I Can Go'/><author><name>The Cook's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16653767762054938346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yaBx-SKc314/Sr1v0DLnKKI/AAAAAAAAAPc/VSxpXodTaSw/S220/IMG_0013.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1781026807930430892.post-3577539602360711715</id><published>2009-02-04T05:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T05:31:57.417-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Father Time</title><content type='html'>Emerging from the shadows a stately form appears&lt;br /&gt;From out of the darkness into the hemisphere.&lt;br /&gt;With a long flowing robe and a great staff he stands&lt;br /&gt;We cannot cease his coming though sometimes we do command.&lt;br /&gt;His presence is always with us and carries on through the years&lt;br /&gt;He marks our days and watches&lt;br /&gt;Marching on to eternity.&lt;br /&gt;Keeping tabs of every moment&lt;br /&gt;Trying to catch us in our tracks.&lt;br /&gt;He is Father Time and we must keep moving and not fall into his grasp.&lt;br /&gt;He came in days of youth when we were young and knew no cares&lt;br /&gt;And stayed throughout the ages till old age did appear.&lt;br /&gt;It is he who will one day catch us and send us from here&lt;br /&gt;Ever, ever marching, marching forward in despair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Author: Suzanne M.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1781026807930430892-3577539602360711715?l=mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/feeds/3577539602360711715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/02/father-time.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/3577539602360711715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781026807930430892/posts/default/3577539602360711715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/02/father-time.html' title='Father Time'/><author><name>The Cook's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16653767762054938346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yaBx-SKc314/Sr1v0DLnKKI/AAAAAAAAAPc/VSxpXodTaSw/S220/IMG_0013.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
