tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124792572024-03-07T18:28:32.324-05:00Confessions of a ChocoholicTodays Confession: Lindt Creation Mousse 70%Myrna Hyneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997766480281616115noreply@blogger.comBlogger597125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12479257.post-68606204461683272722013-02-15T10:34:00.000-05:002013-02-15T10:35:06.588-05:00The View From HereIt's been a very snowy winter here in western NL. On Monday we saw the sun, honest to goodness, for the first time since Christmas Eve! It has snowed and snowed and snowed. On the 3 days since Christmas that it did not snow, it was cloudy. Oppressively cloudy. It was getting rather depressing.<br />
<br />
So I decided, "Well, self, can't sit around and be all depressed about something that cannot be helped." and I got myself up off my (increasingly round) rearend and started getting out snowshoeing. <br />
<br />
Now, I'm not a big fan of winter. I much prefer being warm. But I have always loved winter sports. And there is nothing like cold fresh air in your lungs and a splash of vitamin D in your face to perk you right up and get you out of the winter funk.<br />
<br />
And when you get to your destination - I really do live in the most beautiful and fabulous place in the world! - and it looks like this, you can't help but feel alive and happy and rejuvenated.<br />
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Hope you're getting out there skiing and snowmobiling and snowshoeing too! If you can't beat it, may as well throw snowballs at it :)<br />
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Myrna Hyneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997766480281616115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12479257.post-39812608464711102162013-02-11T09:36:00.000-05:002013-02-11T09:36:10.071-05:00The ReturnI've just returned from a trip to St. John's. For those of you unfamiliar with Newfoundland, St. John's is on the east side of the province and about an 8 hour drive away from me.<br />
<br />
8 hours on a good day. But we left home in a blinding snowstorm. Couldn't see a thing is some areas and the wind was blowing so hard, we burned about a gajillion dollars in gas to get there!<br />
<br />
And we had to go...HAD to! My mom, you see, had a recurrence of the skin cancer she had removed back in 2006. Unfortunately, the procedure did not remove the entire root of the cancer and it continued to grow. Basal cell carcinoma, luckily, is slow moving. But still, after 7 years, when she got out of the <a href="http://www.skincancer.org/skin-cancer-information/mohs-surgery">MOHs surgery</a>,...well, if you can imagine what a nose looks like with no skin and only cartilage...then that's how she looked and that's how much skin they had to remove to ensure (with 98% accuracy) that they had finally gotten it all.<br />
<br />
Not fun at all for her! I found it completely fascinating to see, however, because I'm rather morbid that way. She was not impressed and kept passing out when I changed her dressings! It's a good thing she wasn't the one looking at it.<br />
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The St. John's trip was for the plastic surgery required to reconstruct the nose. A skin graft was taken from the forehead, kept it tact only by the adjoining arteries, and then "tunnelled" under the skin at the bridge of her nose. Keeping the arteries in tact means the skin does not "die" and turn all nasty black like a burn. Despite the numerous stitches, it looks really good. I was quite impressed with Dr. Fitzpatrick. He did a fabulous job!<br />
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And Dr. Fitzpatrick, after years of mom complaining about that horrid bump on her nose, even chiselled away the offending bump, giving mom the added bonus of a rhinoplasty. She didn't expect or ask for that, but he said it was actually for the betterment of the skin placement from the forehead. <br />
<br />
Skin cancer = bad! Free partial (forehead) face lift + rhinoplasty = good! Always gotta look at the bright side.<br />
<br />
Now, I am back home on the west coast. (Also had to return in a blinding snowstorm!) My Dad has taken my place as the sitting-around-being-completely-bored bed-side companion. Mom will likely get her stitches out on Wednesday and get to come home too. Thank you all for following along with my FB statuses and keeping us in your thoughts and prayers. We so greatly appreciate it.<br />
<br />
And, for those of you who asked about pictures...I have been absolutely forbidden! FORBIDDEN in all caps...to share! :)<br />
<br />
Myrna<br />
<br />
P.S. Oh, and I had another root canal, just for kicks, while I was there too. In comparison to her ordeal, it was nothing. <br />
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Myrna Hyneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997766480281616115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12479257.post-82583035290662010942013-02-04T12:12:00.000-05:002013-02-04T12:12:06.678-05:00It has been nearly a year since I last blogged. A year has gone by so quickly. This morning, while reading <a href="http://www.christahann.com/">Christa's blog</a>, I thought to myself, "Self, you've been away for far too long!"<br />
<br />
As I've said before, I do write. I have a journal that sits on my bedside table. I write my thoughts, my joys, my grievances, my daily monotony, my struggles with parenting, my self analysis, my inner workings, if you will; I sketch pictures of cakes, I pen poems, I figure out my schedule, I doodle hearts; I send myself little cryptic messages on the side so, when I go back to re-read something I had written long ago, I can smile as I remember the interpretation.<br />
<br />
I stopped blogging. To be honest, most days, I could barely remember the keys to my car (still can't on many occasions!). Blogging became another chore. I didn't need more jobs to do. And it became a struggle to write something, to write anything. I didn't want my blog to just be a place where I elaborated on my facebook status, "Going snowshoeing today. Here are the pics". I wanted my blog to be about my experiences and how I relate to those experiences. I somehow lost the ability to get those thoughts out of my head and onto "paper" in any sort of way that made sense. <br />
<br />
After continuing to write in my journal, no matter how much sense it makes, my writing is coming back to me in little pieces. I get severe brain-freeze sometimes. So you'll have to excuse me. But I'm going to attempt to do this again. I'm not going to make promises. But I will seriously do my best to blog once a week. And yes, sometimes the entry may have about the same level of content as a box of rice krispies - dry and flavourless without anything further added - but I will try to bring it back. <br />
<br />
My apologies to those of you who did read. I hope you'll come back once in a while to check in.<br />
<br />
Myrna<br />
Myrna Hyneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997766480281616115noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12479257.post-77239075715330920802012-03-23T11:04:00.001-04:002012-03-23T11:06:19.299-04:00Too QuietYou know there is trouble a-brewin' when your children are suddenly being quiet.<br />
I was in the kitchen and realized Charlotte was being particularly quiet. Very very quiet.<br />
I thought the bathroom door was closed. It usually is. It prevents her from playing in the toilet water and flushing massive amounts of toilet paper.<br />
So I go check out the silent situation and this is what I find: Charlotte sitting on the potty (pants up), scrapbooking magazine in hand, toilet paper strewn about everywhere. haha! Now there's a good one for the scrapbook, for sure!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuItIkMU5Ixzd6jt9zW2ZBqD_A22UfsVAtxzYnz-pK8yg_FJ4z6CQ-kjhs6HL-CgDYZGOzV7h-8faTpPOwWO5MIRiL9KQLa4X4G6heJwqh5HZZpWTIOKgCEu3xVMlF4CiUCAmU/s1600/Charlotte+potty+mess+22March2012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuItIkMU5Ixzd6jt9zW2ZBqD_A22UfsVAtxzYnz-pK8yg_FJ4z6CQ-kjhs6HL-CgDYZGOzV7h-8faTpPOwWO5MIRiL9KQLa4X4G6heJwqh5HZZpWTIOKgCEu3xVMlF4CiUCAmU/s400/Charlotte+potty+mess+22March2012.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>Myrna Hyneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997766480281616115noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12479257.post-51016268991520556772012-03-09T11:59:00.000-05:002012-03-09T11:59:19.045-05:00Seeing the CousinsSarah has been asking for a while now to go see her cousins in Ontario. And when I would tell her, "But baby, that costs a lot of money." she would reply, "But Mommy, I have lots of money in my piggy bank!"<br />
<br />
So cute. So not enough money.<br />
<br />
So when Mom checked out her aeroplan points and saw there was enough to fly us there for Spring break to see my sister and the "cousins", we were all for it! Yay!<br />
<br />
Spring break, here we come!<br />
<br />
We'll be flying to Toronto tomorrow morning. I can't even use the expression "bright and early" because it's even too early for the sun to be up. 5:15am. What kind of a gross flight is that? Ungodly, I tell ya! Makes me nauseated just thinking about getting up at 3am to drive to the airport. But anyways...<br />
<br />
At 7am in Toronto we'll be picking up our rental car and heading to Niagara-on-the-lake to watch Miss Erykah play in a basketball tournament. We'll be spending Sunday visiting Niagara Falls - it'll be the first time for my girls and a while even for me. So I think that'll be nice.<br />
<br />
<em>That is, if the weather holds up. I've been expecting to go to "spring" weather, 15 degrees or so. But this morning it was snowing there! Ack! After all winter of no snow, Ontario decides to get snow NOW?! Like, come on!</em><br />
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Then it's off to my sisters home in Chatham for a week to spend some time with the girls on their week off. So looking forward to that! <br />
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Hopefully next weekend we'll also get to spend a bit of time in the Brampton area, visit some family, and I can take a quick trip up to <a href="http://www.christahannphotography.com/2012/03/it-makes-up-our-day/">Acton to visit my dear friends, the Hann family, and meet sweet baby Jenna.</a><br />
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Happy Spring break everyone! What are your plans?Myrna Hyneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997766480281616115noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12479257.post-76504932559119348332012-03-05T11:53:00.001-05:002012-03-05T11:56:23.345-05:00Sarah Turns Five<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW9t0hGNo3mDHVeVcgDgJP7eMR2w4OULcMq6wgQK1K2rp-Ba3QqppAh8zi2VPMVOACLMq2LVv0cOvkgC8CSwszDvyTnjoADoIOfzhblXdkGf4LevgvGvOg708I6YA24vvyZDx9/s1600/041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW9t0hGNo3mDHVeVcgDgJP7eMR2w4OULcMq6wgQK1K2rp-Ba3QqppAh8zi2VPMVOACLMq2LVv0cOvkgC8CSwszDvyTnjoADoIOfzhblXdkGf4LevgvGvOg708I6YA24vvyZDx9/s400/041.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Our dear sweet Sarah is 5 years old today. She is officially a "big kid", according to her, which means she is now finally old enough to go to school (in September). Since people have been asking her "How do you like school?" since she was 3 (about the age she was the height of a kindergartner), we figure it's about time.<br />
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For me "5" means she is finally old enough to stop taking that wretched sippy cup to bed with her every night. I can almost hear the collective gasp as you all read that. Yes, yes, I know. I'm a terrible mother for ever allowing her a sippy cup for this long. We all have our things we swore we'd never do. That's mine. Let's move on, shall we?<br />
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Sarah's birthday party was yesterday afternoon. It was a very exciting event indeed. Sarah was beyond thrilled about having friends come over to play and bring her presents. She received more Barbies than should be permitted in any one location, other than Walmart. It is the bane of my existence. Correction, Polly Pockets are the bane of my existence. At least Barbie is big enough to see.<br />
<br />
And while all the other 5 year old girl moms get to wait another 7 years for the super girly-girl stuff to kick in, my daughter was busy gushing to her friends about the cuteness of the Justin Bieber birthday decor adorning walls and doors and cake, and dragging her friends to her room to give them hair and makeup makeovers with headbands and nail polish and glittery lip gloss. Seriously? Aren't girls supposed to be like 12 and having sleepovers before they do this stuff? I think I am in for it!<br />
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But at the end of the day, after a busy time of playing and excitement, when all was dark and quiet, and I tucked my tired little "big" girl into her bed, she was still the same baby I held in my arms that first night, rocked back and forth, back and forth, and sang "Away in a Manger" for the first time. I still sing it to her every night, at her request, and she still closes her eyes at the very last line, "...and take us to heaven to live with thee there." as I whisper sweet dreams and pray to God that I will never live to see her birthdays come to an end.<br />
Happy Birthday my darling Sarah!<br />
Love Mommy xoxMyrna Hyneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997766480281616115noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12479257.post-14004003544423928332012-02-15T13:48:00.000-05:002012-02-15T13:48:33.110-05:00My Valentines Surprise<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY9SY6g6Ks-vqDMuovAzcXUootS53vvz9fwxqdbYlLWJUbCbQsAguZhxIlj7YovMLqQFqZ8DhIQpADC8UnhPKoFtEVfyHVwHdgJeDkWrz3FC6hlw9XLVLVX_jV0BgR2nqkxRPX/s1600/DSC_0015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY9SY6g6Ks-vqDMuovAzcXUootS53vvz9fwxqdbYlLWJUbCbQsAguZhxIlj7YovMLqQFqZ8DhIQpADC8UnhPKoFtEVfyHVwHdgJeDkWrz3FC6hlw9XLVLVX_jV0BgR2nqkxRPX/s320/DSC_0015.JPG" width="214" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The beautiful orchid the hubster got me for Valentines Day.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I love getting flowers!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Thanks babe, so glad you took Sarah's advice, lol xox</div>Myrna Hyneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997766480281616115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12479257.post-4005036060984805472012-02-14T11:06:00.000-05:002012-02-14T11:06:03.855-05:00Happy Valentines Day!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3_kmCPfPgwiHpedn84__6CKeQ2-4ZvwsSxD0bwZFOzC3Ct07xCU2I3LVvRqB-TtY6gzUWhEQUmNEnz4Hz_XGoYGGMK1I_EhwQqtv40CZ0kjKh82nosyDUEIaf6fhbBMhDNNCv/s1600/valentine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3_kmCPfPgwiHpedn84__6CKeQ2-4ZvwsSxD0bwZFOzC3Ct07xCU2I3LVvRqB-TtY6gzUWhEQUmNEnz4Hz_XGoYGGMK1I_EhwQqtv40CZ0kjKh82nosyDUEIaf6fhbBMhDNNCv/s1600/valentine.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Valentines isn't a huge event for us. I don't buy gifts for the kids and we seldom get time to go out for dinner. <br />
<br />
As a kid, Valentines Day was all about filling out those little cards and giving them out to all your friends and crushes. Remember those?<br />
<br />
In our Town, we would go out on Valentines night, knock on a persons door, drop off a Valentine card as quickly as possible and run for the hills before the person could answer. Don't ask me why we did that, nobody here does that anymore, but it was great fun! It was super exciting to get a knock on your door and run out to find a special card from a secret admirer.<br />
<br />
Thanks to my cousin (Thanks Mel!) who took Sarah to her Valentines preschool party. She made the cutest little "Owl Always Love you" bag with lots of little cards from friends and heart-shaped treats inside. Last night I decorated the house with some homemade banners and hearts and baked a heart cake. Jamie said Sarah was very excited when she woke up this morning to see the decorations.<br />
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And that is when she reminded Daddy that he needed to do something for Mommy for Valentines Day too. This may not be a huge event but I do still love a cute sappy card and a box of yummy chocolates (<em>What better gift could there be</em>?)! Way to go, Sarah! Get Daddy's Valentine butt in gear!<br />
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How do you celebrate Valentines Day? Do you give/get gifts? Do you got out for a romantic dinner? Do you make special little treats with the kids? Or is it just another day?<br />
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Either way, hope you have a wonderful Valentines Day filled with lots of hugs and kisses!Myrna Hyneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997766480281616115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12479257.post-24052787060290100192012-02-12T18:43:00.000-05:002012-02-12T18:43:21.259-05:00BlindI may be a slacker with my blog sometimes. But I write. I write every day. I've talked about it before. When I first started my blog <em>way back</em> in 2005, I did a post <a href="http://myrnaweblog.blogspot.com/2005/04/virgin-blogger.html">HERE</a> talking about the journals I had at that particular time.<br />
Now I have the following:<br />
<br />
A "I want to write a novel one day" Journal: This is where I write thoughts about my future novel. I scribble down character profiles, possible conversations, the occasional rambling chapter, details on place and time and whatever else pops into my head.<br />
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My Daily Journal: I write details here about my day. General thing. The weather. Projects I'm working on. How things are at work/home. Achievements/Stories/Silly things about the girls.<br />
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My Poetry Journal: I constantly write poetry. It may be a verse or a line. It may be waking in the middle of the night to a complete poem in my head and I have to scribble it down in a hurry so I won't forget it. It's dark and nostalgic, mostly. It gets those thoughts out. Helps me to move past it.<br />
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Yesterday as I was going through some old scribbles I came across an entry entitled "Blind", a poem. I've decided to share because it was a good reminder for me. I reminisce so often. I think and rethink and overthink. I guess I've always done it.<br />
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The entry has no date and I have no memory of writing it, so I know it's not recent. But I decided it was a good one to share.<br />
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<u>Blind</u><br />
Did he love me then?<br />
Does he love me still?<br />
Across the sands of time<br />
And in between.<br />
On summers eve, <br />
so long ago?<br />
When sun upon my hair<br />
could make him smile,<br />
reflections in those eyes<br />
gold flecks on blue.<br />
And I so lost<br />
within the depths.<br />
Remember how that<br />
hand upon my face<br />
could melt the world,<br />
And soon forgot<br />
the tears I cried<br />
speaking his name.<br />
<br />
And then a note at the bottom of my little poem:<br />
"To anyone who'e ever got caught up in the fantasy world of "what if" because you had your blinders on and chose only to recall the good stuff instead of facing the harsh reality of true remembrance."<br />
<br />
This is for you...<br />
<br />
-MyrnaMyrna Hyneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997766480281616115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12479257.post-14865498159361799022012-02-07T11:10:00.000-05:002012-02-07T11:10:39.539-05:00Hired!The hubster is a fabulous cook, when he wants to be.<br />
He makes a wicked "Sunday Dinner" (In Newfoundland, that consists of a roast chicken, salt beef, potatoes, carrots, turnip, cabbage, bread pudding, stuffing, all smothered in yummy gravy! and maybe some beets and pickles on the side).<br />
<br />
Last Sunday he decided to change it up a bit and got a prime rib roast. Now, I'm not a huge fan of red meat but it was absolutely YUMMY! So moist and tender....and with all the fixin's...what a delicious dinner!<br />
<br />
Thanks hon, wish I could "hire" you to cook for us every day! ;)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5UdrjwgOwxMWR2vGRd8Fb7fjz24anl410Pohjjd4OH1u4YGYPE5Nyn8B2c5ThaqQs4AUjYyeco0WHtB2H0hjTEAykcgYECZ33uNvVxnd_bu-f-PKuruCsHsNJ26kv06NAD9od/s1600/Jamie+prime+rib+5Feb2012+(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5UdrjwgOwxMWR2vGRd8Fb7fjz24anl410Pohjjd4OH1u4YGYPE5Nyn8B2c5ThaqQs4AUjYyeco0WHtB2H0hjTEAykcgYECZ33uNvVxnd_bu-f-PKuruCsHsNJ26kv06NAD9od/s400/Jamie+prime+rib+5Feb2012+(2).JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just out of the oven - testing the temp</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWtO3J3Zki_Qp-fg1kQqmOG6xafRIIO-XRBzl4hmUAeeKYsWFopsXCcYDK57XBcK8nTqjyGh_o74659uyH5aCndLEXUqmQp-CSKI6jCaFN4KO6ALhdtBvD0FoyZiWDaAZBFMgy/s1600/Jamie+prime+rib+5Feb2012+(5).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWtO3J3Zki_Qp-fg1kQqmOG6xafRIIO-XRBzl4hmUAeeKYsWFopsXCcYDK57XBcK8nTqjyGh_o74659uyH5aCndLEXUqmQp-CSKI6jCaFN4KO6ALhdtBvD0FoyZiWDaAZBFMgy/s400/Jamie+prime+rib+5Feb2012+(5).JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Perfectly pink! mmm<br />
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</tbody></table>Myrna Hyneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997766480281616115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12479257.post-65039457649036628812012-01-28T14:50:00.000-05:002012-01-28T14:50:20.511-05:00Charlotte and the KittyCharlotte absolutely tortures our cat. She loves him, almost literally, to death. She hugs and squeezes him. She pokes his eyes and nose and ears. She pulls his tail. She pats him, and despite my efforts to show her how to be "gentle", she is quite enthusiastic and ends up hitting him instead.<br />
<br />
Kitty can pretty much hold his own. He is nearly 25 lbs afterall. He sits there and takes the beatings. Doesn't raise a paw, not a whimper, not a hiss. Eventually, however, he does get really annoyed and scurries off to the confines of the basement or hides under a cabinet.<br />
<br />
Honestly, I do try to keep Kitty away from Charlotte when I see her going really overboard. I don't want her to think she can get away with this behaviour all of the time. Most other kitty cats would have clawed her eyes out by now. <br />
<br />
This morning, Charlotte decided to be nice. Kitty was expecting at any moment to have his fur pulled, which explains the slight glare on his face. Poor wonderful kitty, so much patience with our baby girl...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbplk4UiKcOJWAPyUEr-QFfZBNX1WAZSjFUMlAt2eS4Z_YgTp5EHm4RBqBjwrUr8y8-r03sPC2p7GvkiFoMTVPzkXRnaUkSPklJ4asncXisuDxXWCp63uT29fVmikNOPrKmdUu/s1600/Kitty+Charlotte+27Jan2012+(15).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gda="true" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbplk4UiKcOJWAPyUEr-QFfZBNX1WAZSjFUMlAt2eS4Z_YgTp5EHm4RBqBjwrUr8y8-r03sPC2p7GvkiFoMTVPzkXRnaUkSPklJ4asncXisuDxXWCp63uT29fVmikNOPrKmdUu/s400/Kitty+Charlotte+27Jan2012+(15).JPG" width="400" /></a></div>Myrna Hyneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997766480281616115noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12479257.post-63833899687165493592012-01-21T21:45:00.000-05:002012-01-21T21:45:04.501-05:00Celebrating LifeToday we went out for dinner with my Dad for his 60th birthday.<br />
<br />
Today my Aunt lost her partner to a short battle with cancer. <br />
<br />
Both events prompt us to celebrate. A celebration of another life milestone reached. A cause to celebrate memories of a life lived and lost.<br />
<br />
As we sat eating dinner in the restaurant, there was a Mom and her two pre-teen children having dinner at the table next to us. All three were heads bowed: Mom texting on her i-phone, Son playing a game on a DS, Daughter surfing on an I-pad. They spoke barely a word to each other. They didn't even look at each other until they shared a dessert. Not engaged in each others lives at all. <br />
<br />
I thought maybe I was the only one who noticed until my Mom looked over at me and said, sarcastically, "Now there's some quality family time." <br />
<br />
And I'm guilty, very guilty, of spending too much time bent over my smartphone. Text. Surf. Email. Text. Surf. Email.<br />
<br />
<br />
But I just wanted that Mom to know that she needed to celebrate, just in case she didn't get another opportunity. I wanted those kids to know that their Mom was too important not to pay attention. And I personally needed the reminder that time is far too precious to waste, that we need to cherish every single day, every single moment. <br />
<br />
How have you spent your day? Have you zoned out, disengaged, over some meaningless electronic device? Or, have you celebrated love, laughter, family, and made memories to last a lifetime?Myrna Hyneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997766480281616115noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12479257.post-13132872570547653242012-01-16T08:49:00.000-05:002012-01-16T08:49:55.816-05:00Dieting and New ShoesI decided this past week to start dieting, AGAIN!<br />
<br />
Not because it's the New Year and I've made a resolution to do so - I never do resolutions of the New Year variety - but because I've gained 20 pounds since last February. <br />
<br />
Last February, after breastfeeding (which is, for me, the best way to lose pounds EV.ER!) I was down 18 pounds below my pre-pregnancy weight. That means I lost all 27 pounds of prego weight + another 18 for a grand total of 45 lbs in a little over 5 months.<br />
<br />
Makes me want to have another baby. Almost. Not quite.<br />
<br />
So, here goes the Weight Watchers points counting AGAIN. It works, I've done it before. It just takes some stick-to-it-tiveness. Which I may or may not have, depending on the day. I get bored with the monotony and have far too little will-power. Plus, the chocoholism doesn't help much. Just last night I was pounding back the Baileys filled chocolates. Baileys. And on a Sunday, after church, no less! Tsk tsk tsk. My chocoholism, clearly, has no limits! <br />
<br />
And because I can't hibernate all winter long, as much as I'd like to, I've decided I may as well try and get out to enjoy the snow. If you can't beat it, frolic in it. Snowshoe style. I have no idea about brand names or whatever at this point. I went to the store, saw some pretty black with red trim snowshoes, and bought them. The lady said something about really liking "her (insert brand name here)'s". They look kinda like this. Which I personally think are very cool compared to the huge clunky round ones I had as a kid.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQz1rYL7K3ytuMZFJEet_SUNRZjRbPPFVz6DRNUlCPQ16Hihtuj9A" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kba="true" src="http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQz1rYL7K3ytuMZFJEet_SUNRZjRbPPFVz6DRNUlCPQ16Hihtuj9A" /></a></div>Now, the nice thin lady at the Sports store also told me I don't need the poles. She doesn't use the poles. Finds them "cumbersome". I listened to her, nodded, "oh yeah, cumbersome. I can totally see that." like I have a clue. But, it has been a very long time since I've done any skiing or snowshoeing or any type of winter sport. I fully expect to end up face-first in a snowbank, unable to get up, cursing on my lack of poles.<br />
<br />
This could be very interesting indeed. Wish me luck.Myrna Hyneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997766480281616115noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12479257.post-12431532402362109842012-01-08T17:12:00.000-05:002012-01-08T17:12:51.483-05:00Read. Pray. Remember.It's 2 years today since an old friend passed away. It's so hard to believe he's gone. The concept of him not existing somewhere in the world just doesn't feel right. <br />
<br />
There are nights when I wake and all I can see is his face. Still. And I wasn't even a part of his life in the last few years. Even so, I am happy to have been a part of his life at one time. And I miss him. <br />
<br />
I read the poem I wrote in <a href="http://myrnaweblog.blogspot.com/2010/01/sleep-therapy.html">THIS</a> post often. It helps me remember him the way I last saw him, the way he had his arms outstretched over his shaved head, fingers entwined in the wire fence, watching the boys play softball. I don't know why he wasn't playing that day. But he wasn't. And the kids would run up to him and he would lift them up. And he would tickle them and play with them. He was good like that. I really liked that about him.<br />
<br />
I still haven't gone to see his grave. I know I should. I need to. I will. In the meantime, I will read my poem and think of him fondly. I will pray for his dear family for their mourning is on a level beyond what I can, or ever hope to, understand. <br />
<br />
I will read. I will pray. I will remember. That's all I know how to do. R.I.P. Clayton.Myrna Hyneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997766480281616115noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12479257.post-26433228797157384232012-01-05T08:40:00.001-05:002012-01-05T18:11:20.329-05:00Another Sad Love SongI honestly don't even care about the Hugh Jackman part.<br />
<br />
It's the video this guy made for his wife's birthday that is so touching.<br />
<br />
First saw the couple on <a href="http://www.oprah.com/oprahshow/Oprah-in-Australia-Ultimate-Wildest-Dreams_1/12">Oprah here.</a><br />
<br />
And <a href="http://www.dramarama.ca/2012/01/hugh-pays-tribute-to-an-inspiration.html">here's the article</a> from MSN this morning. Sadly, Kristian lost his battle.<br />
<br />
Break out the kleenex. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/nfZMyHpmhJU?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>Myrna Hyneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997766480281616115noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12479257.post-47939162375794489202012-01-04T14:51:00.000-05:002012-01-04T14:51:28.779-05:00GratefulAfter Jamie's grandmother passed away on Boxing day, we were all, of course, very sad. Nothing can take away the sadness that is felt when a dear loved one parts from this life.<br />
<br />
The next day, Jamie called home to tell me about a horrific story out of Connecticut, that struck close to home, literally, as the grandmother invovled in this tragedy was originally from Newfoundland.<br />
<br />
You can read the story <a href="http://www.thewesternstar.com/News/Local/2011-12-29/article-2849952/Woman-killed-in-house-fire-born-in-Bay-of-Islands/1">here</a>.<br />
<br />
As I read the news article, I wept, and suddenly felt so extremely grateful over my sadness for Nan. I know that sounds silly. I don't want to take away from any sadness felt over Nan, because it is completely genuine. But it's the truth. I felt like it was the best death anyone could wish for. Nan was 86 years old. She had a good life, lived to a good age, and died surrounded by a loving family. Her death was, for lack of a better description, truly a good one. <br />
<br />
In stark constrast, this one woman, on Christmas morning, lost absolutely everything important in the world. She lost her parents and her children. Five members of her immediate family gone. Gone just like that. And I really cried. I don't know this family at all. But I cried with the reminder that life is so fragile. It is a gift not to be taken for granted. Whether old or young, when death comes, it is instant, and it changes those who are living forever.<br />
<br />
Mostly, I want it to be a lesson to cherish my family. If this house burns down, there is nothing inside that cannot be replaced. But my children. They are my life and my joy. And with that, I want to share them with you, in their Christmas finest.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGYBTc66FywY7OLa8yJMZoe-hRSPSHH4sSf_evdxhbKEkGaLAvCniueTM7CthFn10X5B6cHWLv0qZ4WcB7j-dNEt6MCdBXwtd10p52xyyguTuzN1bOczbe9yWu6veWma7bfORf/s1600/Christmas+Eve+church+2011+%25286%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGYBTc66FywY7OLa8yJMZoe-hRSPSHH4sSf_evdxhbKEkGaLAvCniueTM7CthFn10X5B6cHWLv0qZ4WcB7j-dNEt6MCdBXwtd10p52xyyguTuzN1bOczbe9yWu6veWma7bfORf/s400/Christmas+Eve+church+2011+%25286%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christmas Eve Church Service</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHdgWR8qjNvl0QaPcbW8SwGOnUO3F62PvZnklhhOHYr6bxolHr40J5xtFDb5nMX4h-JJZorISAGI3WIFVbMRCNTDZxV2GjiFIfmPYVGkeSGL1JfGAFp01IsRaJn5b0s70-P291/s1600/Christmas+Eve+PJs+2011+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHdgWR8qjNvl0QaPcbW8SwGOnUO3F62PvZnklhhOHYr6bxolHr40J5xtFDb5nMX4h-JJZorISAGI3WIFVbMRCNTDZxV2GjiFIfmPYVGkeSGL1JfGAFp01IsRaJn5b0s70-P291/s400/Christmas+Eve+PJs+2011+%25282%2529.JPG" width="267" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christmas Eve matching pj's</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Myrna Hyneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997766480281616115noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12479257.post-35099119271136699882012-01-02T10:00:00.002-05:002012-01-02T10:03:20.908-05:00RIP Our War BrideShe was a teenager, working as a waitress in her hometown in England, during the war. She, I imagine, was like most teenage girls during that time, trying to catch the eye of some handsome young man. She had a kind heart for them too, and knitted mittens for the boys in the troops from overseas.<br />
<br />
And she did catch an eye. And why would she not? With that pretty hair and such a beautiful smile. She was the perfect picture of a sweetheart - the kind Mr. tall-and-good-looking Joseph James Curling Laing, RAF, wanted.<br />
<br />
He was going to leave and send for her. But she was a feisty one and said, "Oh no way mister, you're not getting out of here without me. You're going to marry me before you leave!" And so they were married in a stunning brick church built in 600 A.D. in The Lizard, Cornwall, in 1943.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH3aTcBoWoharvQwrbOWXsyU704UqAHFS_n5yDBg3qnT-XuRwjZH94qEzilDULNzv4HCbTxVJfi6DIqntex6GphwBeIVt_TKzAaVP36SiYN3sSKMoThudBZkhgyd0_7kIoBTXl/s1600/st_wynwallow_gate_mid.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH3aTcBoWoharvQwrbOWXsyU704UqAHFS_n5yDBg3qnT-XuRwjZH94qEzilDULNzv4HCbTxVJfi6DIqntex6GphwBeIVt_TKzAaVP36SiYN3sSKMoThudBZkhgyd0_7kIoBTXl/s320/st_wynwallow_gate_mid.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"Pearl" had heard stories of Newfoundland from her husband. It was a rugged land. There was no electricity, no paved roads, no indoor plumbing. It was very different from the amenities she was accustomed to. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But she followed him anyways. She was 20 years old when she boarded the ship on January 26th, 1943, and alone, except for her 2 year old daughter and a baby in her belly. She was in for a rough winter voyage that took her across the Atlantic. Her journey carried her to a stay in Lomond, while waiting for the ice to come in. And on February 27th, 1943, she finally made her way on horse and sleigh to her new home in Norris Point.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And when she arrived she must have been thinking, "Oh my! What have I gotten myself into!". The description from her husband could not have prepared her for how truly primitive this Newfoundland would be. But she was greeted immediately by "Aunt Nellie" who, unbeknownst to her at the time, would become one of her very best friends. Even though her new way of life was much different than the one she had known such a short time ago and miles away, it was this warm friendly welcome that helped her settle right in.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It wasn't long, just a couple of months, before Curling and Pearl welcomed a brand new baby boy. Eventually they would raise 8 children: 5 daughters and 3 sons. This would grow over the years to a current tally of 17 grandchildren and 20 great-grandchildren.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As Jamie and I sat there, in her little white house, on boxing day, surrounded by so many of those children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren, Jamie said, "You know, it's all because of her that we're here." </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It's amazing when you really think about it. One brave young lady was brave enough to follow her heart across thousands of miles of ocean, and managed to fill a home to overflowing, not just with people, but with abounding love as well.</div><br />
And her name carries on, in our hearts, and with our daughter, Sarah Lillian, who I hope we can teach to be as kind and lovely and courageous as her Great-Nanny Laing.<br />
<br />
R.I.P. Lillian Pearl (Nicholls) Laing: November 22, 1925 to December 26, 2011<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9R00AC_mK6ZfHo8UttmYLZ4BDUR3mQ-bDQi8_Hova-f-TSqCVO0kLeB8U__OhER2Db2NhUtCy-z-g-DgLb6RX_pHwjkEmVNxQ29iepfNtcz9vPpdGdjFocV5t-n8TPFdYr3lg/s1600/nan+laing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9R00AC_mK6ZfHo8UttmYLZ4BDUR3mQ-bDQi8_Hova-f-TSqCVO0kLeB8U__OhER2Db2NhUtCy-z-g-DgLb6RX_pHwjkEmVNxQ29iepfNtcz9vPpdGdjFocV5t-n8TPFdYr3lg/s1600/nan+laing.jpg" /></a></div>Myrna Hyneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997766480281616115noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12479257.post-83830746478922739762011-12-30T23:04:00.001-05:002011-12-31T09:44:07.735-05:00These are a Few of My Favourite (Christmas) ThingsI was spoiled again this Christmas. I admit, this is not unusual.<br />
<br />
First off, at the top of my list, I received a plane ticket to Houston to spend a few days sharing some good times with 2 of my best girlfriends from highschool. I would holler out a huge "Woohoo!" right now but the girls are in bed so I'll have to settle for a very exaggerated "Woohoo" whisper, right fist pumping the air as quietly as possible. You catch my drift.<br />
<br />
And then, the following:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH_USW9K6b5zzAYjCM8uVsf_ZkZ6qJGYEmxB-auicUjETm-fZ5xuUmNN9U9C0JJBVkXtcTjpZMd5BJwtCLjLdllXplB77h1r-qd7YZsbuAC5R9eqcivnoFDSnmBB7laxsSMkNF/s1600/Christmas+2011+%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH_USW9K6b5zzAYjCM8uVsf_ZkZ6qJGYEmxB-auicUjETm-fZ5xuUmNN9U9C0JJBVkXtcTjpZMd5BJwtCLjLdllXplB77h1r-qd7YZsbuAC5R9eqcivnoFDSnmBB7laxsSMkNF/s320/Christmas+2011+%25281%2529.JPG" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love chunky jewelry - this "Bittersweet" bracelet is a great addition to my collection...Thanks Vic!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB0k4TId6BjtY515V5YhWZRGFZLb4ex_-0xreTAorix1cBjLlzfXxuoLlGY2ipJHKwmRrbHTcl2NbVlPxZ269aXXJkVcsSq2rQROOLLxLoIyddOJJxmwno7yi3JY2433Yi8xrO/s1600/Christmas+2011+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB0k4TId6BjtY515V5YhWZRGFZLb4ex_-0xreTAorix1cBjLlzfXxuoLlGY2ipJHKwmRrbHTcl2NbVlPxZ269aXXJkVcsSq2rQROOLLxLoIyddOJJxmwno7yi3JY2433Yi8xrO/s320/Christmas+2011+%25282%2529.JPG" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mama thought these boots from Le Chateau did the job of proving that a curvy girl can pull off skinny jeans!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinYgcwC6X0WtCRx5zyIcLa1n9DzSyIhrBLtBr_b2dn_OiKDDCaV2aTZAFXdw_NiOmY9ENAZxBS_low4eV4QFpds8C0PsrhRbA0f-4GSM0R9igrZJeAQ9Zgh47v7j8J8rc0y_Kr/s1600/Christmas+2011+%25286%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinYgcwC6X0WtCRx5zyIcLa1n9DzSyIhrBLtBr_b2dn_OiKDDCaV2aTZAFXdw_NiOmY9ENAZxBS_low4eV4QFpds8C0PsrhRbA0f-4GSM0R9igrZJeAQ9Zgh47v7j8J8rc0y_Kr/s320/Christmas+2011+%25286%2529.JPG" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I have had an angel tree for years but now I'm branching out (get it....ha! sorry...) and adding all winged things. Love my new owl :)</td></tr>
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<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt1vnx7QrLjPTyzyQznkw1dkQt9R8p58i7a8cPT_K-TCpKdHezH_fCZby2k7cXD3e1iyxbdRhLYoccA6nFL1nvEczefswilM8FBdDH8yNE6XSU3NL8mZXHRmhIrz7y1JBXRtBT/s1600/Christmas+2011+%25287%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt1vnx7QrLjPTyzyQznkw1dkQt9R8p58i7a8cPT_K-TCpKdHezH_fCZby2k7cXD3e1iyxbdRhLYoccA6nFL1nvEczefswilM8FBdDH8yNE6XSU3NL8mZXHRmhIrz7y1JBXRtBT/s320/Christmas+2011+%25287%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My first David's Tea - a gift from the hubby - including (in the middle) "Super Chocolate" mmmm!</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAtKghrk6Pgp4s-zKC12lePN0XlwT_TlmUuhstnLVVhpIDKX35v8XnTHJAD6enImAdGidWBZR6C5UjZTxTYvH0bJyJEIWmeB49ZZbJ1sk_tcVH73GhBFMvBEH_1Dlz_cCEIKVU/s1600/Christmas+2011+%25288%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAtKghrk6Pgp4s-zKC12lePN0XlwT_TlmUuhstnLVVhpIDKX35v8XnTHJAD6enImAdGidWBZR6C5UjZTxTYvH0bJyJEIWmeB49ZZbJ1sk_tcVH73GhBFMvBEH_1Dlz_cCEIKVU/s320/Christmas+2011+%25288%2529.JPG" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The hubster said there was "no way" I was getting yet another purse. But he is powerless to stop the forces at work here. I don't know why he even bothers. Bwahahahahaha!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-rLkVRGu58A1_gDdgY_z51pN5sEgoC-54me3VA3EfBGy5fSr090j80xX_kDOnVz6xcNzV1xwBDvOeKCe_KFCvNuExK2DwGpT_jNskRJp22y6uYdTqx94e3aWwVAZrqTr7iaMb/s1600/Christmas+2011+%25289%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-rLkVRGu58A1_gDdgY_z51pN5sEgoC-54me3VA3EfBGy5fSr090j80xX_kDOnVz6xcNzV1xwBDvOeKCe_KFCvNuExK2DwGpT_jNskRJp22y6uYdTqx94e3aWwVAZrqTr7iaMb/s320/Christmas+2011+%25289%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And what's Christmas without getting the stuff to scrapbook what happens all year-round?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>What was your favourite gift this year?Myrna Hyneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997766480281616115noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12479257.post-16377575296537715522011-12-25T00:03:00.000-05:002011-12-24T22:34:39.127-05:00<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><strong>Merry Christmas!!</strong></span>Myrna Hyneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997766480281616115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12479257.post-20579383229182140532011-12-23T23:07:00.000-05:002011-12-23T23:07:43.153-05:00Wishing You JoyThe hubster and I were talking about how much we love Christmas. How it's exciting to see Sarah finally at an age where she's anticipating, counting down, losing sleep from the thrill of "Santa" arriving.<br />
<br />
We talked about what Christmas meant to us, as children. For me, there was a lot of hussle and bussle. But it was good hussle and bussle. <br />
<br />
There was hunting down a real Christmas tree, cutting it down, and dragging it through the snow to your basement, where it had to be left for a day or so to dry off. But it wasn't a nice tree, it always had a crook in the trunk, a few bare spots, or was tilted so far to one side that it had to be tied to the wall.<br />
<br />
There was the school program, the "Old Fashioned Christmas Tree" at the recreation hall, and carols sung loudly at church and by carolers outside in the snow. There was the Town parade where we waited - often in the bitter cold - at the side of the road just to get a goodie bag with a package of potato chips, a can of pop, and a candy cane. It was the best gift a kid could ever get.<br />
<br />
There were presents hidden in closets and under staircases, found, sometimes unwrapped and quietly wrapped up again. Very. Carefully. And then you showed your younger siblings and friends how to do it successfully.<br />
<br />
There were visits from family, from neighbours, and from people you saw at your house only once a year. Visitors didn't call. They just showed up. And if they were dressed as <a href="http://bojanfurst.com/?m=200912">mummers</a>, they didn't take off their snowy boots. And they felt welcome to do so.<br />
<br />
There were family dinners - with turkey and all the trimmings - in Nan's house, which was far too tiny to possibly hold everyone. <br />
<br />
There were chocolates and candies you'd never see at other times of the year. <br />
<br />
There were lights and tinsel and garlands hung from one corner of the ceiling to the other. <br />
<br />
To me, it was magical. It was pure joy.<br />
<br />
But something has happened. We have fake trees and fake money buying way too many gifts, and are far too busy for our family or anyone else. (and yes, I'm guilty of all that!) Now, we can't help but hear it over and over again.<br />
<br />
"I hate Christmas!"<br />
"Nothin' but a grab for money."<br />
"Too crazy..."<br />
<br />
I wonder if the people who say these things have happy memories of Christmas? Do they know what Christmas really means? Do they know that Christmas is about giving, whether it's a hot meal, a warm hug, or a gift wrapped in a bow? Do they know about the baby Jesus, Mary & Joseph, the shining star, the angels, and the shepherds? <br />
<br />
They must not know. Otherwise, they would know the joy that is Christmas. Wouldn't they?<br />
<br />
And so to you, my dear blog readers, I wish you Christmas joy. I wish you the joy the season can bring. I wish you the joy you once knew but have now lost. I wish you joy found for the first time.<br />
<br />
Most of all, I wish you joy that lasts the whole year round. Merry Christmas!Myrna Hyneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997766480281616115noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12479257.post-11684244768032635062011-12-19T21:44:00.000-05:002011-12-19T21:44:36.439-05:00Sarah + JustinRemember earlier this year when Sarah discovered <a href="http://myrnaweblog.blogspot.com/2011/03/she-cant-say-his-name-but-she-knows-who.html">HIM</a>.<br />
<br />
The imaginary relationship continued throughout the year although she still has moments when she cannot pronounce his name. She even made him a cake on his birthday. I have no idea when his actual birthday is.<br />
<br />
Imagine my surprise, after such a short "courtship", to learn that an elopement was in the works.<br />
<br />
She was in the bakery mixing up a cake, from scratch. She's got that all figured out. She mixed and poured it into a pan and baked it. She went in search of a cake topper and found an old school heart-shape with a bride and groom standing inside. She then proceeded to tell me that I was enlisted to decorate hers and Justin's wedding cake, complete with Christmas-coloured sprinkles, and Justin's name written in pink icing.<br />
<br />
When Mom asked Sarah why she was marrying Justin, the response was, "he's so cute!" Oh my! <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvF5TvTCY8L_s6WGQ5KC9tY1QYYr2ksuT6Gv1Zy-WFVp8GMUeubOXKNcotEv17uEWv5fGRwvjXb6SC4D5vKhjE9ewwFp9A4pEjDsZ1I9Pwi9sHbrvqK8cQ3RNGBCNXROIwPXVY/s1600/Justin+bieber+wedding+cake+17Dec2011+%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvF5TvTCY8L_s6WGQ5KC9tY1QYYr2ksuT6Gv1Zy-WFVp8GMUeubOXKNcotEv17uEWv5fGRwvjXb6SC4D5vKhjE9ewwFp9A4pEjDsZ1I9Pwi9sHbrvqK8cQ3RNGBCNXROIwPXVY/s400/Justin+bieber+wedding+cake+17Dec2011+%25281%2529.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sarah's creation for Justin</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Perhaps I'll tweet the pics to the real Justin. I think he may get a good chuckle out of his little 4-year old fan.Myrna Hyneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997766480281616115noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12479257.post-90844200129702139902011-12-15T08:41:00.000-05:002011-12-15T08:41:46.071-05:00Array the Corridors = ?I'm in love with word games, puzzles, cryptograms that make my brain scream, "Ouch!"<br />
<br />
Last night we had the church ladies (and their husbands) in for their annual Christmas supper at the <a href="http://www.chocolatemoosebakerycafe.blogspot.com/">Chocolate Moose</a>. The Pastor's wife had some fun games to play, and although I was supposed to be behind the scenes in the kitchen, cleaning up after supper, I couldn't help but ask if I could join (and try to win, of course!) this game.<br />
<br />
"Can you Name the Christmas Song?"<br />
<br />
Example: Array the Corridors = "Deck the Halls"<br />
<br />
Awesome, right?<br />
<br />
Okay, here goes...<br />
<br />
1. The lad is a diminutive percussionist<br />
2. Nocturnal Noiselessness<br />
3. A B C D E F G H I J K M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z<br />
4. Arrive time 2400 hours - weather cloudless<br />
5. Delight of the planet<br />
6. Do you perceive the same longitudinal pressure which stimulates my auditory sense organs?<br />
7. Far off in a feeder<br />
8. Leave and broadcast from a pinnacle<br />
9. The dozen festive 24 hour intervals<br />
10. Behold! I envisioned a trio of nautical vessels<br />
11. Listen, the winged heavenly messengers are proclaiming tunefully<br />
12. As the guardians of the little wooly animals protected their charges in the shadows of the earth.<br />
13. Frozen precipitation commence<br />
14. Monarchial triad<br />
15. Righteous darkness<br />
16. Oh small Israel urban center<br />
17. Our fervent hope is that you thoroughly enjoy your holiday season<br />
18. May the deity bestow an absence of fatigue to happy male humans<br />
19. Loyal followers advance<br />
20. Query regarding identity of descendant<br />
<br />
Soooo....how many did you get? Be honest! In the time limit we had, about 10 minutes, I got 15 out of 20. Not bad, not bad.<br />
<br />
#3 Totally stumped me. I'm impressed if you get it, although you'll kick yourself afterwards when you realize how simple it is.<br />
<br />
Have fun!<br />
<br />
(<em>Answers in comments....no cheating!)</em>Myrna Hyneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997766480281616115noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12479257.post-13563765272130990022011-12-14T08:50:00.000-05:002011-12-14T08:50:26.666-05:00Sad but TrueCame across <a href="http://www.buzzfeed.com/melismashable/the-most-awkward-family-holiday-photos">THIS</a> webpage.<br />
<br />
And then came across this...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilKSOQY0DrwxqziyGNxicx_7q6r7nYnQ_nuUcSnytRLxrH7l1J4WIdnkeYPLXvrw7F84rH_S5nl17dU0Ag_8LCOGylsbb_MO4YsQZKTe2BPdpGrkb76mKs4Xoclw_iVxqffJT1/s1600/funny+xmas+card.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilKSOQY0DrwxqziyGNxicx_7q6r7nYnQ_nuUcSnytRLxrH7l1J4WIdnkeYPLXvrw7F84rH_S5nl17dU0Ag_8LCOGylsbb_MO4YsQZKTe2BPdpGrkb76mKs4Xoclw_iVxqffJT1/s400/funny+xmas+card.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
I particularly like how the dad's got the "hold on a sec, I'm checking my email" finger up.<br />
<br />
Funniest, most relevant, Christmas card, like, EV-ER!Myrna Hyneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997766480281616115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12479257.post-25919566826342155232011-12-08T13:10:00.002-05:002011-12-11T14:06:24.943-05:00Ch-Ch-Ch-ChiaI have a lot of hair. Like, <em>a lot</em>!! It's long and thick and curly. Often, it is big and bushy and fuzzy and out of control.<br />
<br />
When I do finally go to the salon to get it cut, it takes about 2 hours. The stylist always comments on how heavy, how an extra sink is needed to wash it, how cutting covers her entire salon floor with blondish clippings and takes 20 minutes to sweep up. Blah blah blah.<br />
<br />
What can I say, I can't help genetics. I have terrible skin, not so great teeth, and I've gained 50 lbs since highschool. So, I embrace the hair as awesome! I fear, like Absalom, that my vanity over my locks may be the death of me one day.<br />
<br />
Or perhaps the death of the hubster....<br />
<br />
We were sitting on the couch, snuggled up, watching tv, as is our evening custom when the kidlets are in bed and we have a few precious moments to ourselves.<br />
<br />
I was in my comfy pj's. My hair was twirled up into an unsightly bun/twist thingy.<br />
<br />
I have to rewind a smidge. After Charlotte was born, I started to lose my hair. A lot of hair. Did I mention <em>a lot</em>?! It was coming out in clumps, bunches of hair clogging the drain, and making our vacuum cleaner get all tangled (honest to goodness!). After a few months it started to grow back with a vengeance of curly baby hair sticking out all around the perimeter of my face, like my very own mini white girl 'fro.<br />
<br />
So, there we were. Couch. Chillin'. The hubster and I, and my hair.<br />
<br />
He says, pointing, "Why is your hair doing that? Why doesn't it lay flat?" (attempting to pat it down) "You look like a chia pet!"<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnHYfsFV1ocs7HCkIPchiEEbjLTz-enh9mvVxAHTt2dDQT0pu0JJFNdBORhAwg3SX87Or8lkVjKh4Q7WVOalMuvoDsXAeebuMmnwtp1WtReKFJaXxZ4JJPfSbpwT8pssdM7sXF/s1600/chia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnHYfsFV1ocs7HCkIPchiEEbjLTz-enh9mvVxAHTt2dDQT0pu0JJFNdBORhAwg3SX87Or8lkVjKh4Q7WVOalMuvoDsXAeebuMmnwtp1WtReKFJaXxZ4JJPfSbpwT8pssdM7sXF/s1600/chia.jpg" /></a></div><br />
I whip my head around and give him the evil glare, brows pulled down, "I can't help it!"<br />
<br />
Apparantly my big fuzzy head was getting in the way of the hubster's optimal television viewing. <em>Well, don't I just feel terrible about that!</em><br />
<br />
Cruel, I tell ya, totally cruel!<br />
<br />
But it was honestly so funny that he called me a chia pet, all I could do was get up and go post his comment as my facebook status and give everyone a good chuckle.<br />
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"Ch-Ch-Ch-Chia"...it's been stuck in my head for 2 days now. It's time to pass it on.Myrna Hyneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997766480281616115noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12479257.post-2237931845239334132011-12-06T21:02:00.000-05:002011-12-06T21:02:38.689-05:00Happy GirlsI went to St. John's last week. <br />
I went <a href="http://leboudoirlingerie.ca/about-us">here</a>.<br />
I got properly fitted (<em>which I highly recommend</em>).<br />
I purchased a $167 bra.<br />
I almost killed the hubster. (<em>he quickly approved when he saw said bra</em>)<br />
The girls are very happy.<br />
<br />
The end.<br />
<br />
Feel free to comment on how crazy I am to spend $167 on a bra (<em>I failed to mention the $42 on the matching undies</em>).Myrna Hyneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997766480281616115noreply@blogger.com2