<?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-5692438911153853144</id><updated>2011-09-28T07:21:10.339-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Plenty Better to Do</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>66</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-2976019594283537631</id><published>2011-09-27T18:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-28T07:21:10.352-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fledgling Bloggers</title><content type='html'>My students started blogging today, and this year they have to post every other week, on any topic that interests them. Observations in the computer lab as they set up their new blog sites:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little swimming fish (which look far too much like sperm for my liking) are a very popular gadget.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boys, surprisingly, are very concerned with color choices and sidebar images. One posted a picture of a cat dressed up as Darth Vader, and another a picture of a naked baby smoking a cigarette. The latter picture was vetoed by the blogger police (me).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One class got into a huge discussion of what words I would and wouldn't allow for class blogging. I OK'ed "ass"&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;but said no to "slutty," particularly when I learned that the topic was our rival school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw one student begin writing about the day of his birth, one about stage fright, several listing all their favorite things, and at least one up-and-coming sports commentator.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And finally - aside from the playing of video games - I've never seen students having so much fun in the computer lab! Of course, most of the fun was choosing font styles, but you have to start somewhere.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-2976019594283537631?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/2976019594283537631/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=2976019594283537631' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/2976019594283537631'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/2976019594283537631'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2011/09/fledgling-bloggers.html' title='Fledgling Bloggers'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-8382556465714972709</id><published>2011-05-06T07:42:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-06T07:46:52.686-07:00</updated><title type='text'>True story</title><content type='html'>I was sitting here at my deak preparing for class and happened to notice, more than the page it was resting on, my hand. It reminded me of an alligator purse. I seriously can't believe how scaly and old it looks. I never thought I'd look old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I noticed the page it was resting on. Seriously, it happened to be a poem about the challenges of faith. How we run to God only because he is our last resort for comfort, not because He is good or reliable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I decided to focus on my left hand, holding a glass of sweet iced tea. And my chair is comfortable, and the daylight is soft and abundant coming in the window. And Ben Folds, my fave, is singing on my Pandora station.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I reach in the drawer for some verbena lotion and apply it to my scaly hand. It doesn't look any better really, only slightly shinier. Oh well. I still like how it smells.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-8382556465714972709?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/8382556465714972709/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=8382556465714972709' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/8382556465714972709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/8382556465714972709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2011/05/true-story.html' title='True story'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-6193497791921458717</id><published>2011-05-03T08:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-03T08:25:46.058-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Two R's and TV</title><content type='html'>Not blogging much these days. Spent months... off and on... finishing second draft of novel, and it's done. Feeling like a writer with nothing to write. But it's worse than that. I went to Office Depot and printed a copy of the SECOND DRAFT. Had it bound up all fancy like with a black spiral. Handed it over to a reader friend. More than a week ago. The silence is killing me. Is my precious newborn a stinker? Is she too busy to read? Were my delusions of literary fame worse than delusions? Enough about that. It's depressing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I get home at night, I want to read, write, or watch TV. More problems there. We cut back on our DirecTV contract and along with fewer dollars comes fewer channels. Having a hard time finding things I want to watch. Only so many channels showing back to back "How I Met Your Mother"s. No more "Project Runway" either. Getting real sick of David Tutera too. His looks of consternation over the bride's horrendous color choices are getting old. And now Michael Scott is gone. Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reading... nothing suiting my fancy lately. Recently finished &lt;em&gt;True Grit&lt;/em&gt;, which was great, but not a page-turner fave like Harry Potter... which also comes to a screeching halt this summer with the last installment of the film version. It's been nice, all these years, knowing that more Potter was still to come. Wishing for something magical and compelling to come across my Kindle in the upcoming days. Nothing I like better than settling into the bed (or bathtub, truth be told) with a great book in one hand and a popsicle in the other (strange little spring/summer pleasure of mine).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, if I don't post again for another year after this, you might assume I've either found something great to read, a new TV fad, or I've gathered the courage to start in on another novel (or do REVISION THREE on the current one, if it's got enough potential). See ya.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-6193497791921458717?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/6193497791921458717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=6193497791921458717' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/6193497791921458717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/6193497791921458717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2011/05/not-blogging-much-these-days.html' title='Two R&apos;s and TV'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-5493617795358097261</id><published>2010-04-13T17:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-13T17:38:33.555-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Notes from the Nine-Year-Old</title><content type='html'>The other day while shopping:  "I really love getting stuff.  Granna and Papa are my secret weapon."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight while tucking into bed:  "I wonder if the demons are like the Stormtroopers.  Maybe they don't want to work for the devil, but he made them, like Darth Vader did."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On her floor for the past several days:  a couple of boxes draped with bathroom towels, and atop the towel-scape is an odd assortment if items including a blond wig on a styrofoam mannequin head, a basketball and baseball, a picture of Zac Efron, a CD, and her tap shoes.  Anyone want to guess what this display is?  I shall reveal the answer after a couple of decent guesses...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-5493617795358097261?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/5493617795358097261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=5493617795358097261' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/5493617795358097261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/5493617795358097261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2010/04/notes-from-nine-year-old.html' title='Notes from the Nine-Year-Old'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-3983259193996272317</id><published>2010-01-15T07:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-15T09:04:19.526-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Truth and Consequences</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;"Bapu Ghandi said, 'All religions are true.' I just want to love God," I blurted out, and looked down, red in the face.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm currently teaching the novel &lt;em&gt;Life of Pi&lt;/em&gt; to my Hammond freshmen - what a wonderful book! This line is from a rather humorous scene wherein the main character, Pi, explains why he wants to practice Hinduism, Christianity and Islam. Meanwhile, a pandit, priest and imam stand around him arguing over which one religion he ought to choose. It's been interesting to hear how a variety of students respond to this statement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The book itself offers beautiful descriptions of the three religions in question, and with the character Pi as a centerpoint, it is easy to see what the three worldviews have in common. Hindus, Christians and Muslims are all seeking the divine, they all pray, they all have beautiful and inspiring rituals, they all tell grand stories that help us understand our own stories, and they all uphold a set of lofty moral ideals. So what's the problem? Isn't each worldview true in its own way?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems to me that our culture has lost sight of a very important word: &lt;em&gt;truth&lt;/em&gt;. In an effort to be nice to each other, to understand one another's points of view without prejudice, we've watered down what &lt;em&gt;truth&lt;/em&gt; means. I was watching &lt;em&gt;Pushing Daisies&lt;/em&gt; on TV a couple of years back, and two investigators were knocking on the door of a suspect; one of them expressed some doubts and sympathies towards the woman they were about to interrogate. The character Emerson then says, "Truth ain't a bunch of puppies running around and you get to pick the one you want. There's only one truth and it has come a'knockin'." I think you get a much fairer picture of truth when you cross Pi with Agent Emerson.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's one example to ponder: Hinduism says that "God" is an essence, an energy, a universal soul of which we are a part. Christianity and Islam say that "God" is a Person who created non-divine objects and beings that are distinctly separate from himself. These two God-concepts are not equal and cannot be equally true. Do a Christian at church and a Hindu at temple look essentially the same? Yes. Are they praying to the same Entity? No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've heard the illustration of an elephant, surrounded by blind men. One touches his trunk and says it is a snake; one touches his foot and says it is a tree; one touches his tail and says it is a rope; one walks right under his belly and says nothing is there at all. Maybe we are all striving to understand the elephant, to love the elephant as Pi insists. OK, but the guy who says it's a rope is still wrong. Actually, they are all wrong, but maybe the first one is closer - at least he recognizes a living animal. What they all need to do is walk a bit further and feel a bit more. If they were to explore four or five parts of the creature's body, certainly they could come closer to figuring out it's an elephant. Blind seekers ought not to be lazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which brings me to one more line from Pi that I really like. He's talking about religious people and atheists when he says that "they go as far as the legs of reason will carry them - and then they leap." I wish more people would spend more time walking on the legs of reason. It is not reasonable to assume that contradictory ideas of God can all be true at the same time. We can all live together and be nice to each other, but somebody's going to turn up wrong at the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Note to students:  If by chance you have decided to blog about this same quote, and your opinion is contrary to mine, that is OK.  But back yourself up.  Don't just vent - explain and support your point of view.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-3983259193996272317?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/3983259193996272317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=3983259193996272317' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/3983259193996272317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/3983259193996272317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2010/01/truth-and-consequences.html' title='Truth and Consequences'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-1215311426008709565</id><published>2009-09-16T07:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-17T05:47:39.278-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kayak Shenanigans</title><content type='html'>I knew it was over before I even went under. The kayak had turned backwards, a rock leapt up behind me from beneath the white water, and I gave in. I think I heard the river gods laugh as I got a noseful of water. To tell you the truth, I was laughing too. What business did I have in a kayak anyway?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The scene was the Nantahala River in North Carolina. The cast of characters? About 70 ninth graders from Hammond School, where I teach 9th grade. I was roped into this unlikely adventure by a sense of professional duty. Actually, I have always liked chaperoning field trips - it's the "adventure" part that got me into trouble this time. I prefer paved cities, show tickets, fine restaurants, and other low impact activities that do not require me to strap myself into a narrow tube designed for speed, flips, and rock collisions. But I do like the water, and I figured a minor case of terror shouldn't prevent me from joining in on the "fun."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first day was spent on the lake learning how to hang upside-down in said kayak, how to exit said kayak for dear life, and how to regain one's breath in very very very cold cold water. Surrounded by 14-year-olds who were having no trouble conquering this task, I tried to act like an adult and follow instructions. I did it, and it was worth it. Plus, I figured that if I did not push through a little personal fear on the water, I'd have no right to ask my students to push through their fear of published writing, public speaking, or test taking. Life gives us all challenges, some of them requiring helmets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day was on the river, and my goal was clear: enjoy the scenery, enjoy the kids, and stay upright. Two out of three ain't bad, as they say. It really was inevitable. Friends and family are not shocked. By the time the kayak had hit 90 degrees, I'd pulled the loop and pushed my body into the river. Honestly, it wasn't that scary, and I'm a decent swimmer. The falling out was relatively fun; it was the shockingly cold water that gave me the trouble, constricting my lungs and making me gasp for breath and look altogether pathetic as I grabbed ahold of our guide's kayak and got escorted to the shore like the out-of-shape school marm I am. I decided to take it as a wet badge of courage, and good storytelling for my 8-year-old. I find that if you can tell a story just right, you can reel in a little bit of lost dignity with a cleverly wrought phrase or two. How did I do?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-1215311426008709565?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/1215311426008709565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=1215311426008709565' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/1215311426008709565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/1215311426008709565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-knew-it-was-over-before-i-even-went.html' title='Kayak Shenanigans'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-8443874418492755653</id><published>2009-09-10T18:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-17T06:20:22.656-07:00</updated><title type='text'>South Carolina on My Mind</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SqmoxzCDbOI/AAAAAAAAASM/GXS0agTgI7c/s1600-h/8TYOU9CA0O1GT8CA3N2UQ2CACI7WEICAYPI77KCA60RV41CARIGALICAAXPISJCAFCB115CANKSA7VCAKADLYWCA66LTYMCASS1UBOCA4E49UHCAVGFJM6CAIF65J8CA7T3O7TCA4KIJ0KCAGNJW8KCA6OYA0S.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 132px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 113px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380016803336645858" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SqmoxzCDbOI/AAAAAAAAASM/GXS0agTgI7c/s320/8TYOU9CA0O1GT8CA3N2UQ2CACI7WEICAYPI77KCA60RV41CARIGALICAAXPISJCAFCB115CANKSA7VCAKADLYWCA66LTYMCASS1UBOCA4E49UHCAVGFJM6CAIF65J8CA7T3O7TCA4KIJ0KCAGNJW8KCA6OYA0S.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We are South Carolinians again. An odd day to announce this, considering everyone is currently reluctant to admit any connection with the state that gave us Joe Wilson's rude Congressional outburst and that guy who apparently had sex with his horse. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So to break the bad spell, I offer a little ode to Carolina. I love it here. True, we produce teen beauty queens who can barely speak, but I don't blame the state. Not even the state schools. I could argue the point with fancy rhetoric, but I'm not in the mood. The human race is responsible for the Wilsons, the illiterates, the Sanfords, the perverts. We're all a mess.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But here, at home again in the South, I'm back in the midst of some beautiful things. I drink sweet tea everyday. The fish and the chicken are fried. Strangers and professionals greet me with a drawl and a joke. The in-laws are nearby, and they have a pool. The sun shines almost all the time. Temperatures have dropped to the high 70's, and sitting outside is a joy. Everywhere I go, there are green lawns, palmetto trees, and crepe myrtles that never lose their pink. Architecture is red brick, archways, white columns, and black wrought iron. I love archways and iron! Homes are more affordable here and, hence, we live in a lovely neighborhood with winding roads, lots of trees, and adorable houses. I teach at a private school in Columbia, where polite and neatly dressed teenagers say "yes ma'am." My two best friends in the world live five minutes away. Crickets chirp when the sun goes down. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm OK with sharing Carolina with a handful of famous idiots, so long as the beauty doesn't fade and the tea stays sweet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-8443874418492755653?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/8443874418492755653/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=8443874418492755653' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/8443874418492755653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/8443874418492755653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2009/09/south-carolina.html' title='South Carolina on My Mind'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SqmoxzCDbOI/AAAAAAAAASM/GXS0agTgI7c/s72-c/8TYOU9CA0O1GT8CA3N2UQ2CACI7WEICAYPI77KCA60RV41CARIGALICAAXPISJCAFCB115CANKSA7VCAKADLYWCA66LTYMCASS1UBOCA4E49UHCAVGFJM6CAIF65J8CA7T3O7TCA4KIJ0KCAGNJW8KCA6OYA0S.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-6944289476882892259</id><published>2009-07-02T19:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-02T20:11:31.440-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Boxes and Barbeque</title><content type='html'>Today begins my last week in Seattle. THERE ARE BOXES EVERYWHERE! I dream about bubble wrap and tape dispensers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We decided to take a little break from the packing and house-buying/selling chaos and have an early "Fake Fourth" with our traditional Independence Day fare: Jay's fantastically delicious BBQ ribs, corn on the cob, and cobbler with cherries from our backyard cherry tree. Delicious!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But why celebrate the Fourth on the Second? Because by Saturday, all our dishes, pots and pans will also be in BOXES. Surrounded in bubble wrap, sealed up with a tape dispenser.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So for anyone who wants the blow-by-blow update, here it is:&lt;br /&gt;*Sold our house, closed yesterday&lt;br /&gt;*Bought a house in Mallard Lakes in Lexington&lt;br /&gt;*Bought the wrong size dog crate... back to Craigslist again&lt;br /&gt;*Craigslisting the CR-V, too&lt;br /&gt;*Can't find a box tall enough to fit crutches or kiddie teepee in&lt;br /&gt;*Still in physical therapy for the achin' back&lt;br /&gt;*Had farewell dinner with SCS English department last night - sigh&lt;br /&gt;*Making more cherry cobbler for our farewell drop-in Sunday afternoon&lt;br /&gt;*We will leave our home buyers with no more cherries on the tree (fiendish laugh)&lt;br /&gt;* I am only one day behind on the to-do list! Not bad!&lt;br /&gt;* Harper looks forward to painting her new room a "bright-ish yellow-ish green"&lt;br /&gt;* We'll be living with the in-laws for several weeks before moving into our new home -- bet they can't wait to host the 90# labrador retriever!&lt;br /&gt;* We pack up the TV and stereo in a few days -- don't know how I'll cope with 5 days of silence&lt;br /&gt;*Wait... I'll just sing a lot! The fam is sure to love that remedy.&lt;br /&gt;*See everybody in SC real soon! Brew us up some sweet tea!&lt;br /&gt;*Bye bye Seattle. We'll try to take a little of you with us as we open up our coffee shop in Carolina! More news on that in the future!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-6944289476882892259?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/6944289476882892259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=6944289476882892259' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/6944289476882892259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/6944289476882892259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2009/07/boxes-and-barbeque.html' title='Boxes and Barbeque'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-5501374556942256759</id><published>2009-06-15T20:51:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-18T13:59:37.813-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Top Fives</title><content type='html'>Top Five Recent Events (in no particular order):&lt;br /&gt;5. Caryn accepts job at Hammond School in Columbia&lt;br /&gt;4. Jay secures pre-approval to buy house in SC&lt;br /&gt;3. Harper learns to do a cartwheel&lt;br /&gt;2. Caryn is able to stand erect after dose of Vicodin&lt;br /&gt;1. Polly sniffs out her new airline approved crate&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Top Five Prayers Needed for Upcoming Events:&lt;br /&gt;5. Polly's cross-country transport&lt;br /&gt;4. Need a large vehicle in SC -- lottery?!&lt;br /&gt;3. Harper's security in the move&lt;br /&gt;2. Coffee shop plans!&lt;br /&gt;1. House purchase!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-5501374556942256759?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/5501374556942256759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=5501374556942256759' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/5501374556942256759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/5501374556942256759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2009/06/top-fives.html' title='Top Fives'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-3449470363710305612</id><published>2009-06-13T00:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-13T00:18:47.963-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Freedom of Expression</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SjNSm6Et3RI/AAAAAAAAAQ8/fUDLGjYcpmk/s1600-h/for+sale.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 214px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346708010996456722" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SjNSm6Et3RI/AAAAAAAAAQ8/fUDLGjYcpmk/s320/for+sale.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I am now allowed to post about our dynamic and exciting current state of family affairs! For reasons I'm not allowed to mention, I had to remove my last post... some of you caught it fleetingly... the Kirk Secret Service requested that I put a zip on it until a few more details got wrapped up. Very dramatic, yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps you recall that the house was for sale -- the lovely house sign photo makes its reappearance to the left. I am proud to announce that it is now sold, but Coldwell Banker apparently does not put a "sold" banner out, at least not yet. Contract finalized today. We close in three weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As my husband mentioned on his blog, we now need to find a place to put our stuff. Preferrably, that will be within a half hour commute to the fine academic institution with which I will accept a job on Monday morning. Oh, the Kirk secrets never end, do they?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was my last day at my beloved Seattle Christian. Got an engraved Bible as a parting gift. I can't believe it's over. Very sad...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the new job will be AWESOME! More next week...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-3449470363710305612?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/3449470363710305612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=3449470363710305612' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/3449470363710305612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/3449470363710305612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2009/06/freedom-of-expression.html' title='Freedom of Expression'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SjNSm6Et3RI/AAAAAAAAAQ8/fUDLGjYcpmk/s72-c/for+sale.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-1567497449467608988</id><published>2009-03-28T20:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-28T20:42:48.785-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mission Accomplished</title><content type='html'>Today, I mailed in my National Board teaching cert application materials.  Been working on them for a year.  Due March 31st.  Whew...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can now return to normal life.  For my family, this means I might just clean the kitchen.  I may even get back to grading papers for my students.  I'll balance my checkbook and mail late payments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe even a blog post or two.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-1567497449467608988?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/1567497449467608988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=1567497449467608988' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/1567497449467608988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/1567497449467608988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2009/03/mission-accomplished.html' title='Mission Accomplished'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-4511984429099869951</id><published>2009-01-24T17:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-24T18:54:54.713-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Stress and Stuff</title><content type='html'>I've been too stressed out to write lately.  Every time I sit down and read some amusing bloggage and want to post some of my own, all I can think of is to-do lists and a general assortment of gripes.  I've decided I'm done with that.  What I need more of is random happy thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I gave an exam yesterday where instead of a discussion question I made my students pretend to be aliens and compile a list of "artifacts" from the lit they'd read over the semester (collected through a time machine).  They thought I was nuts.  When teenagers think you're nuts, you gotta be doin something right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. My mom and mom-in-law bought me a new outfit yesterday.  New outfits make you feel good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. I watched &lt;em&gt;Burn After Reading&lt;/em&gt; the other day on DVD. It's a tragicomedy. Not that great, but Brad Pitt was a scream.  "Was a scream" is such an 80's thing to say. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. &lt;em&gt;Twilight &lt;/em&gt;was a bunch of silly fluff with some ridiculous scenes, but I paid admission to see it twice.  Might go again when it hits the dollar theatres.  The "dollar" theatre now costs three dollars.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. I am one chapter shy of finishing my novel and have already let one friend read it.  It might be crap, but I did it (well, almost...)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-4511984429099869951?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/4511984429099869951/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=4511984429099869951' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/4511984429099869951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/4511984429099869951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2009/01/stress-and-stuff.html' title='Stress and Stuff'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-7357085349966586908</id><published>2009-01-18T12:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-18T16:24:29.829-08:00</updated><title type='text'>THE SLUMBER PARTY</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Five girls. Four birthday presents. Three movies. Two large pizzas. One bed-shaped cake. Zero sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seven trips to the bathroom to vomit. Harper got sick around breakfast time and sent the rest of the morning into a tailspin. The kids ran out of things to do before all the moms showed up, the hubby breezed downstairs and pushed a few of my worst buttons, and then one little girl pushed the rest of them. Meanwhile, more vomit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully the pictures will help revive memories of the good times, which seemed to fade soon after sunrise... it really was a cool party. While it was still dark.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292739131189883346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SXOWMpth8dI/AAAAAAAAAPA/HtrLzSlroX4/s320/SlumberParty08.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292794036060390466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 221px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SXPIIiSvhEI/AAAAAAAAAPg/hqu2X0S74f4/s320/SlumberParty06.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292739134205818258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SXOWM08ldZI/AAAAAAAAAPI/MbV1qLueZZo/s320/SlumberParty13.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292739150753044274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 224px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SXOWNylwFzI/AAAAAAAAAPY/BsA6fpJAfj0/s320/SlumberParty19.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-7357085349966586908?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/7357085349966586908/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=7357085349966586908' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/7357085349966586908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/7357085349966586908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2009/01/slumber-party.html' title='THE SLUMBER PARTY'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SXOWMpth8dI/AAAAAAAAAPA/HtrLzSlroX4/s72-c/SlumberParty08.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-9101415227762077547</id><published>2009-01-02T23:30:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-02T23:38:29.815-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Kindle</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SV8U_x3CyHI/AAAAAAAAAOI/4GORBH7CiqU/s1600-h/Kindle.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286967573504772210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SV8U_x3CyHI/AAAAAAAAAOI/4GORBH7CiqU/s320/Kindle.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I got a &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Kindle-Amazons-Wireless-Reading-Device/dp/B000FI73MA"&gt;Kindle&lt;/a&gt; for Christmas. It makes me very happy, even when I am not reading it - even when I am just looking at how cute and adorable and hyper-technically cool it is. The Kindle is one reason I don't have time to blog much anymore. The above photo features my Kindle propped up on my brown leather reading chair, by the fire, where I intend to spend as much of my upcoming days and nights as possible. I will put out the fire when winter is over and by summer will move my Kindle Station to the back porch. It transfers nicely to Starbucks as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Must go read now... &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;P.S. I still keep a paperback handy to take to the bathtub. I will not post a photo of that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-9101415227762077547?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/9101415227762077547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=9101415227762077547' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/9101415227762077547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/9101415227762077547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2009/01/kindle.html' title='Kindle'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SV8U_x3CyHI/AAAAAAAAAOI/4GORBH7CiqU/s72-c/Kindle.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-8271463540392776799</id><published>2008-12-10T00:30:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T00:31:40.427-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Am Now Officially in Love With Edward Cullen</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/ST9-VI3l3vI/AAAAAAAAANw/fUJ4eo9b6R0/s1600-h/edward.png"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278076189924515570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 226px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/ST9-VI3l3vI/AAAAAAAAANw/fUJ4eo9b6R0/s400/edward.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-8271463540392776799?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/8271463540392776799/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=8271463540392776799' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/8271463540392776799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/8271463540392776799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2008/12/am-now-officially-in-love-with-edward.html' title='Am Now Officially in Love With Edward Cullen'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/ST9-VI3l3vI/AAAAAAAAANw/fUJ4eo9b6R0/s72-c/edward.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-9027099075652504920</id><published>2008-12-08T20:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T21:40:18.446-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New York Recollections</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I still don't REALLY have time to post about my NY trip, but I'm doing it anyway. I feel I owe it to my fans (ha). It will be a clipped version. Not the usual poetic beauty and philosophizing.  Then again, once I start writing, I'm sure I'll bloviate for at least a half hour...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Left SC at 4 AM on the train to Pennylvania Station. Sort of the reverse of "Chatanooga Choo Choo." Our ham and eggs were not in Carolina but Virginia. We had a private sleeper room and it was wonderful... 16 hours of sleeping/lounging punctuated by trips to the dining car. At breakfast and lunch, we shared a table with Gunterkin and Conchita (or something like that - he was German and she Spanish). They were an elderly couple and delightful conversationalists. A nice time and reasonably good food was had by all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;PM in NYC - we have an incredibly delicious plate of hot antipasta at Carmine's and Jay begins imbibing gins and tonic. This goes on for a while. More good times had by all, but better food. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Wednesday - picked up half price tickets to a matinee, &lt;em&gt;The 39 Steps&lt;/em&gt;. Walked over to Rock Center and had lunch at the cafe, several feet away from the skating rink. Watched the Rock Center tree being erected. Had one of the most delicious salads ever. Later, saw &lt;em&gt;Mary Poppins&lt;/em&gt;. Loved it so much I had tears in my eyes. Mary Poppins is one of my heroes. Bought a Poppins umbrella, with a parrot for a handle. Can't wait for it to rain...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thanksgiving - Parade!! Not too cold, not too bad a view. Glad to have done it once. Wouldn't go again, though, unless I have tickets to sit at Herald Square. The downside to watching it live from Broadway is that you don't get to see any of the performances. I sort of missed watching it on TV in my pajamas. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We missed out on a traditional Thanksgiving dinner, despite having reservations at a pretty good restaurant. The hub and I couldn't seem to jive on the "when do we nap?" and "when do we eat?" aspects of the day. Ended up at Alfredo's, which was not a bad accident. The original Alfredo recipe. Very different from what I expected. Tasty. Then on to &lt;em&gt;Radio City Music Hall's Christmas Spectacular&lt;/em&gt;. They don't call that thing Spectacular for nothin! It's incredible!  A hundred dancing Santas!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Friday - to the &lt;em&gt;Today Show&lt;/em&gt; to see Barry Manilow perform 80's covers. However, I'm too short to see anything but the overhead lights, so I go to the second floor of the nearby Nintendo store to watch. There, I can see Barry's head at about the size of a quarter, but can't hear too well. Eventually the manager at Nintendo kicks me and the other Barry fans out. I therefore refuse to buy a Pokemon t-shirt, which I wouldn't have bought anyway, but I liked having a comeback.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Before leaving town, we have several hours to spend on 5th Avenue - and it's Black Friday! Shopping Mecca! Let me tell you, Black Friday at NYC Macy's is like swimming upstream against a school of bargain crazed fish. Almost as spectacular as Radio City Music Hall, but in an entirely different way. Fun, actually. Later that night, we fly first class back to SC. More fun, and "free" coctails.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Happy 10th Anniversary to us! Viva New York!  Here's my beloved in a few memorable spots...&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277659529208053746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/ST4DYSvmv_I/AAAAAAAAANQ/RUqscYxzeqQ/s320/Thanks+NY+08.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277659533282654370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/ST4DYh7EOKI/AAAAAAAAANY/ursZ98OaWRU/s320/Thanks+NY+28.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277659544738696066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/ST4DZMmZi4I/AAAAAAAAANg/yat_saTkvwg/s320/Thanks+NY+103.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-9027099075652504920?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/9027099075652504920/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=9027099075652504920' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/9027099075652504920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/9027099075652504920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2008/12/new-york-recollections.html' title='New York Recollections'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/ST4DYSvmv_I/AAAAAAAAANQ/RUqscYxzeqQ/s72-c/Thanks+NY+08.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-1893478484306576709</id><published>2008-12-04T18:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-04T18:53:03.131-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Holidays in a Nutshell</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/STiXEvXe_DI/AAAAAAAAANI/iT4MyTRIcO8/s1600-h/Thanks+NY+046.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276133071154773042" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 205px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 284px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/STiXEvXe_DI/AAAAAAAAANI/iT4MyTRIcO8/s320/Thanks+NY+046.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Whew.... just got back from a huge trip east. A few days in South Carolina, hooked up with the fam and best pal Anne Marie. Then an anniversary jaunt to NYC. Took the train up, stayed on Times Square, saw THE PARADE, caught some shows, shopped Black Friday on 5th Avenue, flew first class back to SC. Celebrated an early Christmas there. Martinis and a movie with A.M. -- didn't see Lorri, but she'll be in Seattle this weekend.  I can't believe we're already into December! More details on the trip another night...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-1893478484306576709?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/1893478484306576709/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=1893478484306576709' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/1893478484306576709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/1893478484306576709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2008/12/holidays-in-nutshell.html' title='Holidays in a Nutshell'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/STiXEvXe_DI/AAAAAAAAANI/iT4MyTRIcO8/s72-c/Thanks+NY+046.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-1268664643451491769</id><published>2008-10-31T21:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-01T12:43:21.372-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Halloween, Matey!</title><content type='html'>The annual costume frivolities come to an end, once again. Harper was a pirate this year. Let's see if I can recall her brief costuming history: last year Eloise and previously a veterinarian, her own white teddy bear named Tess, a mermaid, Sleeping Beauty, and a 2-year-old beauty queen. I offer for your viewing pleasure a drawing Harper made in September of her costume plans, juxtaposed with the real thing, a photo taken earlier this evening before she tossed the belt, dropped the scarf, and broke the earring:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263539410218499874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 138px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SQvZNMdXvyI/AAAAAAAAAMg/BBt-vDDIne8/s320/Pirate+2.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263539378260240434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SQvZLVZ7aDI/AAAAAAAAAMY/bZZLkFC7g7c/s320/Halloween+6.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And one more shot, in which I'm not sure if she is a 7-year-old pirate or a 17-year-old fashion model... &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263540697162278274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SQvaYGsrZYI/AAAAAAAAAMw/YgoEn-fyTAk/s320/Halloween+5.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pirate and I headed on over to her friend Anthony's house for tricks and treats.  Anthony's grandpa and dad took the kids out while the moms and grandmother enjoyed hot cider.  It was so refreshing to hear kids exclaim "Cool"  when presented with a tray of raisins and small toys instead of candy, which is the tradition with Anthony's folks. Harper, on the other hand, is a candy maven.  You should see the obscene pile of it currently on our living room floor.  Her dad offered her $10 for half of it, but no go.  MUST HAVE CANDY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All this sends me on a walk down memory lane, when Harper and I first began our tradition of trick-or-treating with friends in other neighborhoods, leaving Jay behind to man the candy stand. It was 2004, and he had just started blogging. &lt;a href="http://pacificgrits.blogspot.com/"&gt;Pop on over to his site&lt;/a&gt;, click on the 2004 entries, and scroll down a bit to the three Halloween posts - which appear in chronological reverse, so be sure to start at the "Halloween - 6:06 PM" entry and then read up through "Halloween Concluded." It's good for a chuckle.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-1268664643451491769?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/1268664643451491769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=1268664643451491769' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/1268664643451491769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/1268664643451491769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2008/10/annual-costume-frivolities-come-to-end.html' title='It&apos;s Halloween, Matey!'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SQvZNMdXvyI/AAAAAAAAAMg/BBt-vDDIne8/s72-c/Pirate+2.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-5967395924386186679</id><published>2008-10-25T10:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-25T10:36:12.910-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Slopping Up the Bathroom</title><content type='html'>I refer you, simply, to &lt;a href="http://pacificgrits.blogspot.com/2008/10/slopping-up-bathroom.html"&gt;my husband's post &lt;/a&gt;of 5 minutes ago.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-5967395924386186679?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/5967395924386186679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=5967395924386186679' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/5967395924386186679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/5967395924386186679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2008/10/slopping-up-bathroom.html' title='Slopping Up the Bathroom'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-8641227696330603331</id><published>2008-10-22T18:42:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-22T18:48:30.396-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Heaven and Hell</title><content type='html'>So Jay comes downstairs last night to report his conversation with Harper about heaven and the devil.  She wants to know if there will be eating in heaven.  Jay explains that the Bible talks about feasts and he supposes that in heaven we will get the best food ever.  She says she figures her Grampa Bill is probably up there right now eating "ice cream combos."  I don't know what that is, but Dad, hope you're enjoying them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she asks Jay what the devil looks like.  Jay says it's not like the Halloween costumes.  He explains how Satan was a beautiful angel who decided to abandon God, and he tricks us into thinking he's ugly.  Harper's response?  She's apparently had this theory going for some time... that the devil actually looks like Mr. Noodle.  Yup.  Elmo's pantomiming pal, Mr. Noodle.  Go figure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-8641227696330603331?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/8641227696330603331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=8641227696330603331' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/8641227696330603331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/8641227696330603331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2008/10/heaven-and-hell.html' title='Heaven and Hell'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-5807481724702648726</id><published>2008-10-20T20:49:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-22T17:47:13.915-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nothin' to Write About...?</title><content type='html'>I'm feeling jealous that so many of my blogging pals seem to have so much more than me to blog about. Charlotte always makes me laugh, and Rick gets me all political, and Todd's life musings are gold. So I guess I'll just react and ramble for a bit tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No cooking blogs for now. I'm into quick and easy these days. Particularly frozen food from Trader Joe's. No one can provide a defrostable feast like Joe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Politics... My husband and mother sure hate Barack Obama. So once a week I reconsider my vote but always end up back in his court. I don't think he's condescending (like Mom says). I think he's articulate and concerned and sincerely Christian. Maybe I'm getting duped - wouldn't be the first time. I also think his strategy of running "against Bush" was wise and totally fair play (that's Jay's gripe). We're in a 2-party system, much to my chagrin by the way, and the Democrat is trying to counter the last 8 years of Republican imperfections. Even so, I thought McCain's retort on that point (in the debate last week) was fair and funny. I like McCain, but I think his famous maverick-osity plays better as a senator. I see Obama as a hopeful, presidential figure. 'Nuff said about that. I could argue all my reasons, but we'd be bored to tears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My students are awesome. They are learning. My sophomores are low level readers and terrible testers, and I'm trying to teach them some basic skills this year. They are actually appreciating it. We're speaking honestly about study habits, Bloom's Taxonomy, learning styles, etc, and laughing a lot along the way. I love my job. And they're blogging! Fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Harper has decided officially that she's an early riser. She got up at 5:30 this morning. Got dressed and put Scooby Doo in the DVD. Then she set out my breakfast: a bowl with a spoon in it, box of Cap'n Crunch beside the bowl, milk sitting out of the fridge for 2 hours waiting for me to pour it, and a piece of burnt-black toast with a scoop of cream cheese on top. Sweetest thing I've ever seen. She informed me that she ate a bag of cookies for breakfast. Our new rule, however, is that she cannot get up before at least one parent is awake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I'm reading: Book 3 in the Twilight series. I've gotta tell you that Edward gets on my nerves. An overprotective tease. But I was in the bookstore the other day and saw some of the new paperbacks with movie images on the cover, and that movie-version Edward is one hot little number. I might have to change my mind about him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-5807481724702648726?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/5807481724702648726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=5807481724702648726' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/5807481724702648726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/5807481724702648726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2008/10/feeling-jealous.html' title='Nothin&apos; to Write About...?'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-4243846550106722399</id><published>2008-10-08T20:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-21T19:16:15.269-07:00</updated><title type='text'>6 Quirky Things</title><content type='html'>Tagged by Rick... 6 Quirky things about me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) I like to run the bathwater extra slow - barely a trickle sometimes - so I can sit in my robe and read while the tub fills. I love the sound of running water. then I transfer to inside the tub and read some more, but there's always the pesky side effect of a moistened book. Outside the tub works better.&lt;br /&gt;2) I started using ear plugs when I got married (you know, snoring... the #1 downside of sharing a bed). Now, I'm so addicted to the universe of soundlessness that I prefer earplugs even when I'm alone.&lt;br /&gt;3) It occurs to me at this moment that I might have a bizarre sound/anti-sound fetish.&lt;br /&gt;4) I sometimes fix apostrophe errors on public signage. "Sticklers unite!" (Quotation is from &lt;em&gt;Eats, Shoots and Leaves&lt;/em&gt;, a hilarious must-read for apostrophe sticklers.)&lt;br /&gt;5) I absolutely love to get up, eat breakfast, and then go back to bed. It feels so decadent. Tummy full, bladder empty, teeth brushed, and the sheets have had just enough time to get cool again. Aaahhhh....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And, finally... (after Rick noted that I had originally posted only 5 quirks... trying to get away with being relatively normal perhaps)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) I am anal about arranging things in my living room.  When I was single, I had 6 matching coasters which for some reason I preferred to align parallel to the edge of the coffee table.  Not stacked up like normal people, but right in a line, like abstract art.  Every time Jay would come over, he'd nudge one out of place.  If I noticed the aberration, I was compelled to fix it.  Of course, I didn't even know this was ocurring until after we were married and he revealed his little ploy.  Freud would have a heydey.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-4243846550106722399?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/4243846550106722399/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=4243846550106722399' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/4243846550106722399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/4243846550106722399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2008/10/6-quirky-things.html' title='6 Quirky Things'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-5290422275294213679</id><published>2008-10-08T16:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-08T18:29:24.177-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Quotes</title><content type='html'>Harper announced her support for Senator McCain today.  I asked her for her reasons, and boy she had 'em:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;1) I sort of want to be different from you&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;2) McCain has been in the army, and that gives him experience.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;3) His wife's name is Cindy, and I like the sound of that name.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I passed a church marquis yesterday which read:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The best vitamin for a Christian is to B1.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(That was almost too painful to type.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-5290422275294213679?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/5290422275294213679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=5290422275294213679' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/5290422275294213679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/5290422275294213679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2008/10/quotes.html' title='Quotes'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-4234383680811534327</id><published>2008-09-19T21:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-19T21:59:21.900-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Plenty Better to Do Indeed, II</title><content type='html'>I'm making good on my blog title tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What I need to do:&lt;/strong&gt; iron clothes (biannual), mend clothes (annual), vacuum (weekly, so I'm not too far behind on that one), trim roses (ought to be more than biannual, but oh well), trade out for autumn clothes (huge bins of seasonal storage totally blocking the upstairs hall - Jay to be quite annoyed when he gets home...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What I am doing / have done:&lt;/strong&gt; blogging (self-evident), "What Not to Wear," Wendy's drive-through, cleaned kitchen (hurrah!!! give me some points!), dragged out the ironing board and arranged clothes to-be-ironed on nearby chair, found a clear corner in the bedroom to stack all autumn clothes and summer clothes and recently laundered clothes so that I can get into the bed tonight and put off the real work till tomorrow. I believe I'll turn in now, with earplugs, so I can't hear my husband groan when he gets home: I don't even want to count the various stacks of clothes "neatly" distributed across my house.&lt;br /&gt;Oh, confession is good for the soul.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-4234383680811534327?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/4234383680811534327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=4234383680811534327' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/4234383680811534327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/4234383680811534327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2008/09/plenty-better-to-do-indeed-ii.html' title='Plenty Better to Do Indeed, II'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-3316104415195289997</id><published>2008-09-09T20:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-09T21:02:31.296-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Calling for Hero Blogs, Year Two</title><content type='html'>OK, blog pals, here goes again for '08:  If you'd care to write something about &lt;strong&gt;heroes or heroism&lt;/strong&gt; over the next few days, I'd appreciate it.  I assigned my sophomores their first paper today, a personal essay with the same guidelines.  They have freedom to interpret the topic in any direction and with any tone they choose.  Some of them are stumped (as expected).  This year, I established a class website and I want to link some examples for them to read.  Care to mentor today's youth via an insightful or humorous response to my prompt?!  Leave me a comment so I'll know to check out your post.  THANKS!!!  Come on, you know you want to jump back into high school for a few minutes!  This time, you don't get a grade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, here's the class site, if you're interested:  &lt;a href="http://kirkclass.blogspot.com/"&gt;http:\\kirkclass.blogspot.com&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-3316104415195289997?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/3316104415195289997/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=3316104415195289997' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/3316104415195289997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/3316104415195289997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2008/09/calling-for-hero-blogs-year-two.html' title='Calling for Hero Blogs, Year Two'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-8797992380684037345</id><published>2008-09-03T20:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-03T20:35:19.211-07:00</updated><title type='text'>First Day of School</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SL9XVa6i1yI/AAAAAAAAAIs/5BXunVx0qc4/s1600-h/school+day+2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242004516796290850" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SL9XVa6i1yI/AAAAAAAAAIs/5BXunVx0qc4/s320/school+day+2.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Harper apparently woke up at 5:45 this morning. Of course, I was unconscious at the time. She dressed herself in her new Gymboree outfit, made her own lunch, and put &lt;em&gt;Andy Griffith&lt;/em&gt; in the DVD player. She'd been watching TV for 2 hours by the time I was aware of anything this side of REM sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She and her dad set out at 9:00 for their annual Father-Daughter First-Day-of-School trek. Since her school is being demolished and rebuilt this year, the students are being housed in a building right around the corner from our house (as opposed to the 12 minute drive of last year). In the picture, she sports her new duds, backpack, and lunch box.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Her first homework assignment was to write down three things she wants to learn this year. They are: 1) penmanship, 2) division, 3) how to burp the "Star Spangled Banner." Good stuff. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242002377918221682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SL9VY6-RjXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/Ai-StjSpUoM/s320/school+day+3.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-8797992380684037345?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/8797992380684037345/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=8797992380684037345' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/8797992380684037345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/8797992380684037345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2008/09/first-day-of-school.html' title='First Day of School'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SL9XVa6i1yI/AAAAAAAAAIs/5BXunVx0qc4/s72-c/school+day+2.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-8680046209005809303</id><published>2008-08-28T19:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-28T19:11:14.933-07:00</updated><title type='text'>from Obama's speech...</title><content type='html'>"We may not agree on abortion, but surely we can agree on reducing the number of unwanted pregnancies in this country. The reality of gun ownership may be different for hunters in rural Ohio than for those plagued by gang-violence in Cleveland, but don’t tell me we can’t uphold the Second Amendment while keeping AK-47s out of the hands of criminals. I know there are differences on same-sex marriage, but surely we can agree that our gay and lesbian brothers and sisters deserve to visit the person they love in the hospital and to live lives free of discrimination. Passions fly on immigration, but I don’t know anyone who benefits when a mother is separated from her infant child or an employer undercuts American wages by hiring illegal workers. This too is part of America’s promise - the promise of a democracy where we can find the strength and grace to bridge divides and unite in common effort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know there are those who dismiss such beliefs as happy talk. They claim that our insistence on something larger, something firmer and more honest in our public life is just a Trojan Horse for higher taxes and the abandonment of traditional values. "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...But it doesn't have to be.  I still really like the way this guy talks.  And a classical allusion to boot!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-8680046209005809303?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/8680046209005809303/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=8680046209005809303' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/8680046209005809303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/8680046209005809303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2008/08/from-obamas-speech.html' title='from Obama&apos;s speech...'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-4201741976733730692</id><published>2008-08-26T22:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-26T23:06:16.348-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Confessions</title><content type='html'>I don't usually go too personal in my blogs, but I'm stepping out today.  I really feel like God has been waving some flags around me the past six months or so, waiting for me to take notice.  Some flags have been tiny and recent.  But they're adding up to SOMETHING...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Around the vicinity of the big 4-0 I realized I wanted to be more authentic and bold in my life, more compassionate, impulsive, loving, expressive.  Stop editing myself when I truly suspect the Spirit is moving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) In my teaching, I've felt a need to get away from my compulsion to map everything out just-so.  The word coming to mind often is "organic."  I've also felt a need to bring missions into the spotlight in my world lit class.  These two themes, with roots in the 07-08 school year, have been compounding even in the last 24 hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) I really feel a desperate need to see God's hand more clearly and concretely.  I've been in several situations lately where I've heard people speak with great faith about God "moving" - and the thing is, deep in my heart I totally believe them, but my brain nags at me - Are we just putting God's name on top of good fortune, coincidence, wishful thinking?  I really want to SEE.  Even in the last 24 hours, I've encountered two stories of miraculous revelations and confirmations of God's will in the mission field.  Why don't I see those &lt;em&gt;from my house?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) I get suspicious when people say that God spoke to them.  But back in December, I remember very clearly a moment when I thought God said, "I've been girding you up for this."  Now, I don't really want to tell that whole story, but I do keep wondering...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, is there a theme going on here or what?  Comments and prayers welcome.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-4201741976733730692?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/4201741976733730692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=4201741976733730692' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/4201741976733730692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/4201741976733730692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2008/08/confessions.html' title='Confessions'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-1409153256064536627</id><published>2008-08-24T12:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-24T12:33:26.859-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Prayer for the Day</title><content type='html'>Today Harper's Sunday School lesson was about prayer.  She came home with a little prayer-hands paper on which she had written her prayer requests.  Here they are, in the order she wrote them:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom&lt;br /&gt;Me&lt;br /&gt;Dad&lt;br /&gt;Peace and goodwill&lt;br /&gt;Fashion&lt;br /&gt;Cancer&lt;br /&gt;Papa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK,  I'm somewhat pleased that I came first.  The other items, well...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-1409153256064536627?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/1409153256064536627/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=1409153256064536627' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/1409153256064536627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/1409153256064536627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2008/08/prayer-for-day.html' title='Prayer for the Day'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-3624672544484145581</id><published>2008-08-14T18:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-14T18:18:35.830-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer Dwindles</title><content type='html'>Lazy hazy days... passing, passing, passing!  I'm feeling a little bittersweet about it.  In a week and half, it's back to teacher in-service, and after Labor Day, back to school for the little one and me.  It will be a busy year for me, as I kick off my pursuit of National Board certification.  I do not care at this time to imagine the work load that will entail.  Harper will be in second grade, tap dancing, playing soccer, and growing up some more.  Wish that could slow down a bit.  We've been enjoying our newly tiled back porch, kicking back for a little reading and eating on a regular basis.  Ahhh... about six more weekdays of that left.  Today, we discovered a new waterfront park that we've had access to ever since buying our house six years ago, but we'd just never made our way down there to seek it out.  I wonder how many picnics we can pack in before ye olde school bell rings?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-3624672544484145581?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/3624672544484145581/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=3624672544484145581' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/3624672544484145581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/3624672544484145581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2008/08/summer-dwindles.html' title='Summer Dwindles'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-8067030089913275317</id><published>2008-07-30T20:37:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-31T21:45:27.947-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What Happened in Vegas</title><content type='html'>It all started, really, with a black-and-white floral print bar chair. Anne Marie ducked into &lt;a href="http://www.charlietrotters.com/restaurant/restaurantcharlie.asp"&gt;Restaurant Charlie at the Palazzo in Vegas &lt;/a&gt;and bestowed upon it a 5-star decor rating. Lorri and I, both of us eager to check out a beautiful eating space and Lo eager to find a bathroom, popped in for a look-see. What we were not expecting was a personal greeting from the genteel GM, Nicholas, who offered us a tour of the restaurant and kitchen. I had never seen a professional kitchen before, off-screen anyway, and we were ushered through the etherially white and suprisingly congenial space and then up the stairs to the exclusive "loft" table for 8, which I understand goes for $350 a head. Back in Bar Charlie, Nicholas continued to tell us about the creative pairings of food and beverage offered at RC and introduced us to the expert mixologist, Kerri (whose name I am probably mispelling). I really enjoyed learning that new word: &lt;em&gt;mixologist&lt;/em&gt;. Two steps up from &lt;em&gt;bartender&lt;/em&gt;, and with good reason as we were about to find out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is when things got really fun. Nicholas asks if we're free for the next 15 minutes. Oh, yes! How about a signature coctail? A sparkling melange of champagne, lychee, and something delightfully floral. Might be my favorite drink ever. Eventually we are seated in those floral bar stools for a parade of appetizers and complementary drinks that lasts well over &lt;em&gt;an hour and&lt;/em&gt; 15 minutes. Our new best friends Nicholas and Kerri serve us the following (to the best of my memory, plus a little online consultation of the RC menu):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Some sort of fish... wish I could remember. Accompanied by a carrot coctail that included something lightly fruity and a saltwater soda.&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;em&gt;Warm salad of heirloom beets with pickled egg and chrysanthemum&lt;/em&gt;, with a tasty, pretty, beety beverage.&lt;br /&gt;3. Cucumber water to cleanse the palate.&lt;br /&gt;4. Dungeness crab salad with sake and rice milk (the sake was in a sorbet) perfectly paired with sweetened rice milk served in a nut-rimmed shot glass.&lt;br /&gt;5. Tuna tartar, imported daily from Japan. No kidding. Framed beautifully by a green pepper puree, mango puree, and yellow puree. (That's the best I can do. Don't remember what the yellow stuff was.) It was salty and rich and complex, and a tango to the tastebuds. Accompanied by a watermelon and basil coctail, refreshingly mellow and a perfect counterpoint to the tuna.&lt;br /&gt;6. &lt;em&gt;Steamed cacao nib cake&lt;/em&gt; (translation: chocolate) &lt;em&gt;with sour candied kumquats&lt;/em&gt; plus cacao ice cream and tangerine sorbet. Rounded out with a delectable chocolate liqueur. Never again will I pair chocolate with raspberry. Citrus is definitely the fruity queen to chocolate's king.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And this, dear reader, is how three 40-year-old, food-loving, bargain-hunting, non-gambling women hit the jackpot in Vegas. Geeks that we are, we sat at the bar eating, drinking, giggling like schoolgirls, and taking pictures of our food. Photos below. Did I mention that we each received "Spa Cuisine" cookbooks as parting gifts? Viva Las Vegas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229397423831072130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SJKNQBzLPYI/AAAAAAAAAHE/8_KLsemXYRk/s320/vegas+drinks.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Beet coctail, sweet rice milk, cucumber water, carrot coctail&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229397416984737666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SJKNPoS4d4I/AAAAAAAAAG8/vQDThlroEp0/s320/vegas+pals.JPG" border="0" /&gt; Anne Mo, Kerri, Nicholas, Lo, Me&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229397401647183698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SJKNOvKH91I/AAAAAAAAAGk/ntfrwqggO2I/s320/vegas+tuna.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Tuna tartar, a feast for the eyes&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229397405988319218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SJKNO_VIb_I/AAAAAAAAAGs/fZI09UB-Orc/s320/vegas+lush+copy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Lush&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229397407732005426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SJKNPF02-jI/AAAAAAAAAG0/8IDECfeFxXA/s320/vegas+dessert.JPG" border="0" /&gt; Chocolate and citrus, my new fave&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-8067030089913275317?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/8067030089913275317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=8067030089913275317' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/8067030089913275317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/8067030089913275317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2008/07/what-happened-in-vegas.html' title='What Happened in Vegas'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SJKNQBzLPYI/AAAAAAAAAHE/8_KLsemXYRk/s72-c/vegas+drinks.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-7959855451455209407</id><published>2008-07-23T20:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-23T20:43:13.821-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh y'all, this was so good...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SIf1k0AquCI/AAAAAAAAAGE/m6et7XZlk10/s1600-h/tomato+tart.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226415905372289058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SIf1k0AquCI/AAAAAAAAAGE/m6et7XZlk10/s400/tomato+tart.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm taking a tip from Charlotte tonight and blogging about my cooking adventures. For dinner, we had a tomato tart, fontina grits, and short-cut sweet collards. I'll start by giving props to &lt;a href="http://www.marthastewart.com/recipe/tomato-tart"&gt;Martha Stewart for the tart recipe &lt;/a&gt;and &lt;a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/ellie-krieger/short-cut-collard-greens-recipe/index.html"&gt;Paula Deen for the collards&lt;/a&gt;, although I modified both recipes a bit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For the tart, I used a ready made pie crust - shame on me! I did not cut corners with the actual roasting of the garlic, though, because the guy on the TV show said that the coating of garlic paste would form a barrier between the juicy tomatoes and the crust, preventing it from getting soggy. However, I only used three cloves rather than the whole head. I also baked the tart only about 40 minutes, which I found to be sufficient, and added a little basil as well. Needless to say, all this served to reduce the time and effort of the exercise by quite a bit. Who has time for the full Martha Stewart treatment, anyway? It was delicious. My husband and I kept eating even after we were quite full.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The perfect side dishes for the tart are grits and collards. I used the remainder of the chunk of fontina and dumped it in the grits (prepared according to 4-serving box directions). The collards I made last week, and to my delight, the experiment in freezing/defrosting them turned out great. I don't know how many pounds of collards I started out with - one bunch of 'em from the grocery store, however much that is - so I'll have to admit to guestimating all the other quantities, too. Paula's microwave strategy is ingenious, and I love the bacon-vinegar-syrup-pepper seasoning. I subbed turkey bacon for the Canadian version and added quite a bit more vinegar and syrup than the recipe called for, partly because my collards were extra bitter. But the end result was fantastic. Oh, I am so delightfully full! Did I already say that?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-7959855451455209407?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/7959855451455209407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=7959855451455209407' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/7959855451455209407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/7959855451455209407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2008/07/oh-yall-this-was-so-good.html' title='Oh y&apos;all, this was so good...'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SIf1k0AquCI/AAAAAAAAAGE/m6et7XZlk10/s72-c/tomato+tart.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-7116590149750439655</id><published>2008-07-16T21:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-23T20:32:37.053-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Finding Angel</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SH7SttMR5NI/AAAAAAAAAF0/YO9TznB-C3M/s1600-h/birthday+party.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223844300463400146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SH7SttMR5NI/AAAAAAAAAF0/YO9TznB-C3M/s320/birthday+party.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I was a kid growing up in Montgomery, Alabama, my best friend was Angel Sanders. She's the one on the far left, and then there's me, with a flower growing out of my head, at my 10th birthday party. We lived two blocks away from each other and spent countless afternoons at each others' houses. There were spend-the-night parties, attempted girls' club formations (one named after Fonzie's girlfriend Pinky) and of course the endless chatter about which boys were cute. Specifically, Angel was always infatuated with Damon Summers, and I never quite got over Scott Marks, even though he never "liked me back." Once, Angel and I got caught looking up &lt;em&gt;sex&lt;/em&gt; in the encyclopedia, and when Angel's mom walked in, we quickly turned the page over to &lt;em&gt;sewing&lt;/em&gt;. What ensued was a lengthy sewing tutorial that Angel and I endured with guilt and excruciating boredom. After all, it was the 70's. We wanted to macrame! With boys!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Our family moved to South Carolina when I was 16, and Angel and I kept in touch with letters. Of course, those thinned out through the years. One, though, I remember clearly: I was 18, a freshman in college, and I received a brief note from Angel, accompanied by a photo of her in a hospital bed holding a baby. She had gotten married. My heart fell into my stomach. And thus our two worlds diverged, Angel embarking on an adventure that was far beyond my comprehension. I did have the pleasure of seeing her one more time, when we were 21 (I think). I met her lovely son Josh and had ice cream with her and her mom at the mall where we had had so many childhood adventures (that mall had an ice skating rink in the center and also housed a Mexican restaurant which had been the scene of our first independent eating-out experience... ah, the memories!).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It just occurs to me that it sounds like I'm writing Angel's memorial. On the contrary! I just talked to Angel this afternoon. After nearly 20 years of silence and regular attempts to Google her name -- Angel Sanders, Angela Gay Sanders, Angel Davis, Angela Sanders Davis, Angel G. Davis, etc. -- I managed to track down my old friend. Last night, it finally occured to me that I still remember her mom's name. Betty Sanders. Googled that. Found her. Payed $2.95 for her address and phone number. Bingo. Dailed it this afternoon and it felt eerily familiar -- indeed, the very same number I dialed countless times 30 years ago. Angel currently lives 3 blocks from her mom, remarried two years ago, and has four kids including an infant. I can't wait till we get a chance to fill in the gaps. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-7116590149750439655?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/7116590149750439655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=7116590149750439655' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/7116590149750439655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/7116590149750439655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2008/07/finding-angel.html' title='Finding Angel'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SH7SttMR5NI/AAAAAAAAAF0/YO9TznB-C3M/s72-c/birthday+party.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-8652987788551799120</id><published>2008-07-11T19:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-13T12:20:41.695-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Spring What?</title><content type='html'>Tonight after dinner, my husband bemoaned the fact that we had never gotten around to Spring Cleaning this year. This year? I asked. I have never once cleaned anything in honor of a season. What a quaint idea. What is spring cleaning anyway? I have these images of 50's June Cleaver housewives wearing peddle pushers, with bandanas over their hair, standing on stools and wiping areas where no human eye ever ventures to look on a normal day-to-day basis. Does anyone spring clean in this millennium? Comments welcome.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-8652987788551799120?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/8652987788551799120/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=8652987788551799120' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/8652987788551799120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/8652987788551799120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2008/07/spring-what.html' title='Spring What?'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-5276847484433304125</id><published>2008-07-03T21:11:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-03T21:29:36.731-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Shack</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SG2mzeCDCbI/AAAAAAAAAFs/fY83erVF95c/s1600-h/shack.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219010946357463474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SG2mzeCDCbI/AAAAAAAAAFs/fY83erVF95c/s200/shack.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Finally read it. Not sure how much I liked it, though. I'll start with its good points: It's one of the most imaginative and accessible treatments of God as Trinity I've ever read. I especially liked that neither God the Father (a "large beaming African-American woman") nor the Holy Spirit (Asian) nor Jesus (thankfully Middle Eastern, as opposed to the blond Jesus in my childhood picture Bible) were white. Some of it was hokey and over-played, but it had a richness of mood that I found contagious. These images will impact my prayer life in weeks to come, most certainly. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I also liked much of the theology. There was so much of it, in fact, that I imagine each individual reader will zero in on a different morsel. For me, it was the parts about love versus rules. One of my favorite lines: "'Remember, the people who know me are the ones who are free to live and love without any agenda' [Jesus]." And: "'Rules cannot bring freedom; they only have the power to accuse' [Sarayu, the Holy Spirit]." This book is highly quotable.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What I didn't like was its cheese. I disagreed with all the liner comments about how literary it was. The writing was not BAD, not at all, but it did not reach any artistic heights. I found it far too heavy-handed for that. It was clever and engaging, but in large part it was a narrative scheme invented to frame apologetic conversations. I'd rather get my narrative theology from the narration. This novel was just far too expository. I skimmed a lot and skipped numerous paragraphs, sometimes entire pages that were mere framing devices or superfluous preaching. For that reason, I couldn't recommend it to too many of my friends -- it had no literary or spiritual subtlety. I give it a C+. For what my opinion is worth.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-5276847484433304125?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/5276847484433304125/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=5276847484433304125' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/5276847484433304125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/5276847484433304125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2008/07/shack.html' title='The Shack'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SG2mzeCDCbI/AAAAAAAAAFs/fY83erVF95c/s72-c/shack.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-1530531316729590794</id><published>2008-07-03T20:49:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-03T21:09:31.930-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear  Mommy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SG2iQgcFXZI/AAAAAAAAAFk/WcRDyiXKQeo/s1600-h/H+haircut.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219005947661606290" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SG2iQgcFXZI/AAAAAAAAAFk/WcRDyiXKQeo/s320/H+haircut.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div&gt;Harper spent the past week and a half at her grandmother's (my mom, "Mimi," in Denver) and we enjoyed, for the first time ever, keeping in touch via email. Here's the summary:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;We LOVE you MOMMY! We hope you are having a good time without me. What haveyou been doing lately? + I got a mereinet on Monday. And I went bowling yesterday and I go swimming today! Oh and me anda girl named Braelyn are going to teeny town together! And cookies tonight!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;JUNE 24, 2008Your little Harper&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Little Harper,&lt;br /&gt;I know you are having a wonderful time!! I sure miss you! While you are gone, I am doing boring stuff like errands, balancing my checkbook, and going to meetings at church. I hope you have a terrific day at Tiny Town! I will be in regular size town. I will see you soon! LOVE YOU!!!&lt;br /&gt;Mommy Wommy Bo Bommy Banana Fana Fo Fommy Fee Fi Mo Mommy -- Mommy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Harper Warper bo barper Banana fana fo farper Fe Fi Mo Marper. Harper!I hope you are having fun! LOVE YOU!!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Harper June 25, 2008&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Little H,&lt;br /&gt;Today I am going to get the car oil changed (boring!!), return some stuff to Home Depot and the tile store (boring!!), get the car washed (boring!!), and then go see two movies downtown (fun!!). Hope your day is wonderful. Be a good girl. Is this your day of beauty? I know you will be gorgeous! You can have Mimi send me a picture of your new hairdo, or you can surprise me at the airport next week! I will look exactly the same. See you then! Mommy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Dear Caryn,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Harper has had the royal treatment today: painted nails, lunch at Wendy's, hair cut, shopping at Macy's (2 outfits), dollar store (hair barrettes and coloring book). The End. My rest time now after heating leftovers fordinner. Love, Mom&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that was about it. I flew to Denver on Monday to retrieve her, and we got back earlier this evening. We were welcomed by Daddy, who provided pizza and a new Xbox for our homecoming. I think Mimi is exhausted.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-1530531316729590794?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/1530531316729590794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=1530531316729590794' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/1530531316729590794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/1530531316729590794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2008/07/dear-mommy.html' title='Dear  Mommy'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SG2iQgcFXZI/AAAAAAAAAFk/WcRDyiXKQeo/s72-c/H+haircut.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-3235609627398081815</id><published>2008-06-26T22:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-26T22:57:10.685-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thank You!</title><content type='html'>A belated &lt;em&gt;THANKS!&lt;/em&gt; to all of you who donated to my "Virtual Birthday Party" back in March! I just this evening received the final word on where all the money went, along with some wonderful pictures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first project we funded was a new tin roof for a rural school in Uganda. They lost the old one in a severe storm. Our money bought tin sheets, and local labor installed them free of charge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second project -- a bonus, since I didn't know we'd raise so much money! -- was a furniture donation for an orphan school, also in Uganda. Here is an excerpt from the email I received tonight:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;As always in Africa, things happen slowly. We were able to get the benches for Living Hope Orphan school that we discussed. This is a great ministry helping over 200 vulnerable and orphaned children in a predominantly Muslim slum area of Kampala. I hope the photos give a sense of happiness of this place – its a rowdy but always exuberant group of kids. Actually every time I’ve visited they are more or less like this happy – even if we don’t bring anything. I know however, that the gift of the desks will make a huge difference. Please pass our deepest thanks to the lady who generously gave for this project.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I extend their thanks and wonderful smiles to you who so lovingly gave! I found this email waiting for me upon my return from seeing a movie about an orphanage in China during the Chinese-Japanese war in the 1930's. I had come home feeling so suburban, so protected from real suffering, so irrelevant. And then... these pictures! Enjoy!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SGR-91SFm7I/AAAAAAAAAE8/bigrYX_DU8M/s1600-h/DSCN0010.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216433869141941170" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SGR-91SFm7I/AAAAAAAAAE8/bigrYX_DU8M/s200/DSCN0010.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SGR--IChDMI/AAAAAAAAAFE/e7c-nE5OqlM/s1600-h/DSCN0003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216433874176904386" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SGR--IChDMI/AAAAAAAAAFE/e7c-nE5OqlM/s200/DSCN0003.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SGR--SSNMQI/AAAAAAAAAFM/-Tis0iLAl_k/s1600-h/DSCN0030.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216433876927066370" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SGR--SSNMQI/AAAAAAAAAFM/-Tis0iLAl_k/s200/DSCN0030.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SGR--cyn3uI/AAAAAAAAAFU/b8vDMoSll8c/s1600-h/KYABENDA+STUDENTS.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216433879747387106" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SGR--cyn3uI/AAAAAAAAAFU/b8vDMoSll8c/s200/KYABENDA+STUDENTS.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SGR--hwq31I/AAAAAAAAAFc/TaI1-1knxno/s1600-h/A+NOTE+TO+SP+2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216433881081372498" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SGR--hwq31I/AAAAAAAAAFc/TaI1-1knxno/s200/A+NOTE+TO+SP+2.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-3235609627398081815?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/3235609627398081815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=3235609627398081815' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/3235609627398081815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/3235609627398081815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2008/06/thank-you.html' title='Thank You!'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SGR-91SFm7I/AAAAAAAAAE8/bigrYX_DU8M/s72-c/DSCN0010.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-8355770977508132739</id><published>2008-06-18T21:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-24T22:34:16.956-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Believe!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SFnjlWOFzpI/AAAAAAAAAE0/u3HfqbAQWgI/s1600-h/200px-Kung_fu_panda_poster.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213448274417405586" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SFnjlWOFzpI/AAAAAAAAAE0/u3HfqbAQWgI/s200/200px-Kung_fu_panda_poster.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;For Fathers Day, Harper and I staged our second annual Family Film Festival (to rival the Seattle International version - SIFF - which sucks up, I'm guessing, around 50 hours of movie time for Jay each June). On this year's line-up: &lt;em&gt;Kung Fu Panda&lt;/em&gt; at the theatre and a home screening of &lt;em&gt;Alvin and the Chipmunks&lt;/em&gt;. The latter is really not worth much comment at all except that the "Chicken pot, chicken pot, chicken pot pie" guy was in it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Kung Fu Panda&lt;/em&gt;, however, gets my attention today. It was not a bad little flick. Several good laughs and quite beautiful with the animated Kung Fu choreography. I've decided to screen it for my 10th grade world lit students next year, nevermind that it's targeted for the elementary school set. The reason is its Eastern theology. If you want a quick course in Taoism, this is the Tao of Disney. I won't go into a detailed worldview analysis of the film (mostly because I'd need to see it again to get it just right), but one particular theme really struck me. A theme that has made its way West. The theme of believing. I can't believe how many movies have these absurdly profound lines about "believing." &lt;em&gt;Believe in what, I ask?&lt;/em&gt; Sometimes, it's believing in yourself, as with Po the Kung Fu Panda. I was relieved that, at least, after the adorably obese Panda begins to (foolishly?) believe in himself, at least he goes through some intense Jedi-Master Kung Fu training. But most of the time, the message seems to be that the mere &lt;em&gt;belief itself&lt;/em&gt; is the magical ingredient. Nevermind WHAT the person is supposed to believe IN. In the case of &lt;em&gt;Kung Fu Panda&lt;/em&gt;, it's Taoism. And if you really think that Taoism is the answer to all the questions of the universe, then so be it. But what irks me is that no one is ever asked to examine the believability of the belief. I get the same feeling when I watch &lt;em&gt;American Idol&lt;/em&gt; auditions. These horribly off-key and over-the-top contestants get furious at Simon for telling them the truth. "That's your opinion," they scream at the camera, insisting that they believe in themselves and they're going to take Hollywood by storm on another day in another way. They're doing a fantastic job of believing. But I don't see it getting them anywhere.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-8355770977508132739?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/8355770977508132739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=8355770977508132739' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/8355770977508132739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/8355770977508132739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2008/06/believe.html' title='Believe!'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SFnjlWOFzpI/AAAAAAAAAE0/u3HfqbAQWgI/s72-c/200px-Kung_fu_panda_poster.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-8988508970314246630</id><published>2008-06-07T20:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-07T20:17:58.353-07:00</updated><title type='text'>CyperPals</title><content type='html'>I am getting worse and worse at contributing regularly to the blogosphere.  However, I spend a lot of time (mostly when there are papers to be graded and dishes to be washed) popping around to friends' blogs.  Actually, it's my husband's friends' blogs... my friends by association and long-distance admiration.  Sometime's I feel like one of the guys, laughing at the amusing ploys and one-liners of Todd, Rick, Steve, the Hubby James, et al.  I especially enjoy the long strings of witty comments, particularly about fat ladies farting in the airport. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just can't seem to get my gal-pals interested in blogging.  What fun it would be to check in on Anne Marie's offbeat humor and Lorri's unique drama on a weekly basis.  Now there's two wonderful women who would not shy away from a fart story!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-8988508970314246630?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/8988508970314246630/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=8988508970314246630' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/8988508970314246630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/8988508970314246630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2008/06/cyperpals.html' title='CyperPals'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-6547671364805560582</id><published>2008-04-30T19:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-30T19:57:06.908-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Random Topics That Make Me Smile</title><content type='html'>Last night when I was tucking Harper in bed, she tells me that if she had to go to a desert island with only four things, she'd take Mommy, Daddy, Polly (the dog) and Lovey (the well-worn much-loved blanket with a teddy head attached).  But if she were allowed five things, she'd also bring a backpack.  And she'd stuff a pillow in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a couple of weeks, I head to SC for Anne Marie's "40 is Fabulous 80's Prom."  My look will be decidedly &lt;em&gt;Suddenly Susanesque&lt;/em&gt;.  Black lace coctail dress.  Looking for fishnets.  Satin pumps.  Maybe a rad headband.  Need some Final Net for my hair.  Must transform middle age curly 'do for high-bangs 80's 'do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tried on the black prom dress last week.  Fits in some areas and not in others. Harper's observation:  "Mommy, you look good on top.  And you just look a little fat on the bottom."  Something I've been trying to come to terms with for years.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-6547671364805560582?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/6547671364805560582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=6547671364805560582' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/6547671364805560582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/6547671364805560582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2008/04/random-topics-that-make-me-smile.html' title='Random Topics That Make Me Smile'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-2444527176249844334</id><published>2008-04-11T18:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-11T19:42:56.157-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Dance for Democracy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SAAgbVxfYsI/AAAAAAAAAEs/aHLYvcGQljE/s1600-h/dem+dance.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188182424804090562" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SAAgbVxfYsI/AAAAAAAAAEs/aHLYvcGQljE/s320/dem+dance.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; ...Otherwise known as the Democratic Caucus, which I attended&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SAAe2FxfYrI/AAAAAAAAAEk/WUsQVKlhOsA/s1600-h/dem+dance.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; last Saturday. In fact, for our left-wing entertainment, a 4th grade boy performed a little number entitled "Dance for Democracy," pictured here. Notice in the foreground that the elderly delegate found that Democracy was a little loud for his taste. Surrounding said dance was a two-hour period during which the delegation attendance was tallied, the old fashioned way sans computer, to determine how many alternates should be seated. The rather lengthy tally time was filled with a few informational speeches and inspirational songs played over the loud speaker (i.e. Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'") while delegates chatted and ate lunch. A very cute toddler walked around smiling at everyone with her "Hillary cares about me!" t-shirt on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had an interesting conversation over lunch with one woman from my church and some nice folks I met at the table. I confessed to being a lifelong Republican (felt I had to, especially since I've been seriously considering John McCain of late). One person made the comment that in the past, Republicans were more like Libertarians in their call for less government, but that today, they were more interested in controlling everyone's lovelives and uteruses. I mentioned that a lot of Christians had felt disenfranchised by the Democrats in decades past, and thus the Republican party had become a religious right magnet. However, I found it quite interesting that my new Democratic friends supported governmental control over certain aspects of the marketplace, specifically the healthcare industry, so as to reduce the effects of greed on the average working class American. Then in the next sentence, there was loud agreement that the government NOT control any other aspects of morality. Seemed unbalanced to me. But, finally, I could see the difference between Reds and Blues: one says government should &lt;strong&gt;not&lt;/strong&gt; control the marketplace but it &lt;strong&gt;should&lt;/strong&gt; control social norms, whereas the other says the opposite. Given that definition, I think I'm moving more and more to the left. But, still, Republicans seem to have their feet more solidly placed in economic reality. Democrats seem more idealistic. I'm trying to dance around in the middle. Ah, the Dance for Democracy!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-2444527176249844334?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/2444527176249844334/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=2444527176249844334' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/2444527176249844334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/2444527176249844334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2008/04/dance-for-democracy.html' title='The Dance for Democracy'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/SAAgbVxfYsI/AAAAAAAAAEs/aHLYvcGQljE/s72-c/dem+dance.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-3683213762307810007</id><published>2008-03-21T22:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-11T18:28:24.213-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Pastor Preached on Politics</title><content type='html'>Last Sunday the pastor preached on politics. The church is not the state, and the state is not the church, he reminded us. But he wasn't talking about the separation of church and state -- far from it. Let me see if I can get it right... The state needs the church, and the church knows the people better than the state. I think that is very interesting. I like it. The church knows people better, and it's our job to remind the state what the people need. Pastor Chris also spoke of the blue-red divide, and how Christians in each camp rely on Biblical principles to guide and justify their positions (and I wish I could better remember his descriptions of the reds and the blues). But the point, he said, was not your political hue or even your preferred candidate. We need to remember that our next president, whoever that may be, will not be the salvation or the damnation of our country. The church can't put its hope in a president, because that's not what we're all about. Our hope is solely in Jesus and the kingdom He will establish -- the church is the beginning of that kingdom! But we-the-church are not the American state, or any other state.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just to remind myself: The state needs the church. The church knows the people better than the state. The church must speak the truth to the state, and this means involvement. A vote is a way of speaking. We might vote red, we might vote blue. But we don't hope in the blue candidates or the red ones. We don't place our hope in the state. We're not part of the state. Our hope, our identity, is God's kingdom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good stuff. Been thinking about it all week. I get frustrated with politics, mostly because it's so darn near impossible to know the truth about candidates, about what really happened and who really said what and what they really mean and intend. Maybe my role in politics is not to figure out what's right and wrong (the state will never get it all right!) but to listen well so that I can speak well. I like the image of being in the church and speaking to the state, but not hoping in it. This gives me some freedom and rest in my political interests. Less fear. More love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my remaining question: What if the state official is a Christian? What principles guide the Christian president? He is the church, and he is the state. Any thoughts out there?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-3683213762307810007?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/3683213762307810007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=3683213762307810007' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/3683213762307810007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/3683213762307810007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2008/03/pastor-preached-on-politics.html' title='The Pastor Preached on Politics'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-3441731386615842483</id><published>2008-03-12T08:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-12T17:25:11.259-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Birthday Present</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/R9hy5WAleII/AAAAAAAAAEM/AsyVWvVM0Co/s1600-h/Uganda+school.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177014101148530818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/R9hy5WAleII/AAAAAAAAAEM/AsyVWvVM0Co/s320/Uganda+school.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Pictured above is the girls' dorm -- and the lovely resident students -- of a Ugandan school in need. This secondary school in the rural Kamwenge District was recently hit by a sudden and strong storm. The roofs of every building were damaged or destroyed. &lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.samaritanspursel.org"&gt;Samaritan's Purse &lt;/a&gt;is proposing to buy 150 sheets of tin roofing for the girls' dorm so that they have a place to sleep and can continue to attend school. A small bath house will also be covered by the tin sheets. The community is supplying all lumber and labor. The cost to repair the roof is $2,000.00.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The goal of my "virtual birthday party" (see previous post) is to repair that roof. Can we raise $2000 in one week? I'm at $410 as of this afternoon... and there are so many people who HAVEN'T GIVEN ME A PRESENT!!! Shocking! So, if you're so inclined, send a check made out to Samaritan's Purse my way. No need to wrap it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-3441731386615842483?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/3441731386615842483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=3441731386615842483' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/3441731386615842483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/3441731386615842483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2008/03/my-birthday-present.html' title='My Birthday Present'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/R9hy5WAleII/AAAAAAAAAEM/AsyVWvVM0Co/s72-c/Uganda+school.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-9037815188464140344</id><published>2008-03-08T18:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-08T18:16:33.612-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Public Service Announcement</title><content type='html'>Tonight is the night we set our clocks ahead, i.e. "spring" forward. I just learned that the proper term for this tradition is Daylight Saving Time. Not Savings with an S. Who knew?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-9037815188464140344?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/9037815188464140344/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=9037815188464140344' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/9037815188464140344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/9037815188464140344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2008/03/public-service-announcement.html' title='Public Service Announcement'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-3699948489872546399</id><published>2008-02-21T18:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-21T19:38:20.226-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Come to My Party!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/R75BYq9q0dI/AAAAAAAAAEE/Uq_y21HH9pM/s1600-h/sam+purse.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169641314373521874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/R75BYq9q0dI/AAAAAAAAAEE/Uq_y21HH9pM/s400/sam+purse.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div&gt;If you're reading this, you have most likely already received my 40th birthday "party" invitation... or one is on its way soon to your e-mailbox. I’ve been contemplating the landmark not-so-old age of 40 for months now, wanting to do something special, big, exhilarating, personal... something with &lt;em&gt;meaning&lt;/em&gt;. I brainstormed ideas from movies to food to scavenger hunts to costume parties. But something was always missing. And then last week, a fully formed idea burst into my head (much like Athena from the brain of Zeus) -- a "virtual party" wherein friends and maybe even friends of friends all buy presents for... children on the other side of the world who need a school. I've loved school all my life, so much that I've spent the last 20 years either studying education or teaching. The idea thrilled me immediately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I checked out my two favorite charities and found that &lt;a href="https://www.samaritanspurse.org/"&gt;Samaritan's Purse &lt;/a&gt;could &lt;a href="https://giving.samaritanspurse.org/p-22-gift-3-build-a-school-for-impoverished-children.aspx"&gt;build or renovate a school in a poverty-stricken area for $8000&lt;/a&gt;. "That's a LOT of money!" I thought. "I can never raise THAT much money!" And then, this verse was thrust into my mind: &lt;em&gt;"Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever!" (Ephesians 3:20-21).&lt;/em&gt; So who's to say what can and can't be done? What I will do is try. Let's build a school!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you would care to donate, please know that your gift is tax deductible. You will write a check to Samaritan's Purse, deliver it to me, and I will collect and mail all contributions, with an earmark for our school project. If your name and address are on your check, you will receive a tax receipt in the mail. I will not post my address on this site, as most people reading this can either deliver checks via my workplace, my husband's workplace, or our church. Otherwise, I suspect you already have our address. If someone forwarded you a link to this blog, then that person can provide you with contact information.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My 40th birthday is Thursday March 13th.&lt;/strong&gt; If you aren't able to put a check in my hand by that date, please let me know it's on the way. &lt;strong&gt;I hope to gather, count, and mail all checks by the following Monday, the 17th,&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;Saint Patrick's Day. &lt;/strong&gt;So I guess we'll call St. Pat's day our "deadline."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hope to be able to provide more information at a later date about the actual results of my little birthday project. I'm in touch with the folks at Samaritan's Purse and am exploring the possibility of knowing an exact price and location of a specific school. That is my ultimate wish, but it depends firstly on the amount of money we are able to collect. Check this blogspot later to see if there are follow-up posts. If so, I'll edit this one with a "P.S." so you'll know where to look.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Finally, one more word about Samaritan's Purse. It was founded in 1970 and taken over in 1973 by Franklin Graham, Billy Graham's son. Its goal is to follow the Biblical example of the &lt;a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Luke%2010:%2025-37;&amp;amp;version=31;"&gt;Good Samaritan &lt;/a&gt;throughout the world. I chose this organization because they are in the business of providing help and HOPE to suffering people. It is my humble opinion that hope is incomplete without Jesus. Samaritan's Purse delivers food, shelter, medecine, education, and Jesus' message of hope to hurting people. The organization is &lt;a href="http://www.charitynavigator.org/index.cfm?bay=search.summary&amp;amp;orgid=4423"&gt;ranked highly &lt;/a&gt;among America's best and most trustworthy charities. So let's get to work building a school!! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-3699948489872546399?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/3699948489872546399/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=3699948489872546399' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/3699948489872546399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/3699948489872546399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2008/02/come-to-my-party.html' title='Come to My Party!!'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/R75BYq9q0dI/AAAAAAAAAEE/Uq_y21HH9pM/s72-c/sam+purse.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-850601752160825345</id><published>2008-02-21T16:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-21T18:10:06.651-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Oscar Weekend, Day Three, Part Three</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/R74u7q9q0bI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k9gfbY4bC2U/s1600-h/la_view_en_rose_160.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169621024948015538" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/R74u7q9q0bI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k9gfbY4bC2U/s200/la_view_en_rose_160.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Evening Pay-Per-View:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.edithpiafmovie.com/"&gt;LA VIE EN ROSE&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Reaction:&lt;/strong&gt; Eh. Great acting but otherwise your typical bio-pic. Singing is stupendous, but the nonlinear storytelling was frustrating to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Nutshell:&lt;/strong&gt; French songstress Edith Piaf overcomes a life of abandonment to become one of the greatest vocal artists of the century.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Analysis:&lt;/strong&gt; Standard themes of rags to riches. The best parts are when she's a small girl and then a young woman singing on street corners. The actress who portrays Piaf (Marion Cotillard) from teen to old woman is fantastic. Unbelievable tranformations, from plucky street singer to glamorous songstress to sickly and decrepit older woman. She's an excellent pick for Oscar.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-850601752160825345?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/850601752160825345/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=850601752160825345' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/850601752160825345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/850601752160825345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2008/02/oscar-weekend-day-three-part-three.html' title='Oscar Weekend, Day Three, Part Three'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/R74u7q9q0bI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k9gfbY4bC2U/s72-c/la_view_en_rose_160.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-9179192992312888383</id><published>2008-02-17T22:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-17T22:34:07.559-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Oscar Weekend, Day Three, Part Two</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/R7kmjK9q0aI/AAAAAAAAADs/T9ivuoHR7k4/s1600-h/linney.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168204433064645026" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/R7kmjK9q0aI/AAAAAAAAADs/T9ivuoHR7k4/s200/linney.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;This Afternoon:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.foxsearchlight.com/thesavages/"&gt;THE SAVAGES&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Reaction:&lt;/strong&gt; Enjoyed it very much. Tired of blogging for today. Will not write much.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Nutshell:&lt;/strong&gt; Sister and brother in their 40's must put their aging and demented father, who had abandoned and mistreated them as children, in a nursing home. Sis is having an affair with a married man, and bro watches his Polish girlfriend of three years get deported because he's not ready for marriage. Both are frustrated writers.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Analysis:&lt;/strong&gt; A soft, mournful, witty, gentle, hopeful movie. Characterized not so much by plot but by the actors' performances and the sometimes lyric, sometimes snappy script. Laura Linney nominated for best actress and Tamara Jenkins nominated for best screenplay. Linney was wonderful but the role wasn't spectacular enough for the Oscar.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;God in it:&lt;/strong&gt; Like everything else I've seen this weekend, but much brighter and gentler, I saw love shine through chaos. Wendy and John (Linney and Hoffman) are emotionally inept because of the trauma of their childhood, but they have not lost their tenderness or openness to redemption. As they go together through the drama of loss, they find courage in each other's humanness. By the end, they've taken bold steps towards healing. The last scene is priceless. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Popcorn status:&lt;/strong&gt; Success! One short sugar-free low-fat latte. A+ to me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-9179192992312888383?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/9179192992312888383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=9179192992312888383' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/9179192992312888383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/9179192992312888383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2008/02/oscar-weekend-day-three-part-two.html' title='Oscar Weekend, Day Three, Part Two'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/R7kmjK9q0aI/AAAAAAAAADs/T9ivuoHR7k4/s72-c/linney.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-1509225834095776068</id><published>2008-02-17T18:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-17T22:12:51.051-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Oscar Weekend, Day Three, Part One</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/R7j05a9q0ZI/AAAAAAAAADk/aCWpUxlYx7I/s1600-h/sweeney_todd_depp.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168149839735345554" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/R7j05a9q0ZI/AAAAAAAAADk/aCWpUxlYx7I/s200/sweeney_todd_depp.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;This Morning:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.sweeneytoddmovie.com/"&gt;SWEENEY TODD&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Reaction:&lt;/strong&gt; Oh, the blood! the music! the artistry! &lt;em&gt;the delicious Depp and Rickman!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Nutshell:&lt;/strong&gt; Barber's Wife is raped by evil Judge who sends Barber away to prison on trumped up charges. Wife takes poison. Daughter "adopted" by Judge. Barber returns after 15 years for revenge. Starts killing people with his barber blade. His new pal the Pie Lady uses the bodies for meat. Lots of people dead in the end, including Judge, Wife, Barber, and Pie Lady. Daughter survives.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Analysis:&lt;/strong&gt; This musical takes gruesome to new levels... a dirge for humanity, an ironic lullaby, a discordant love song. Sondheim plus Burton plus Depp plus Rickman plus Carter. Wow. But not easy to watch. Last night, I left a movie theatre because I couldn't take the gore. Today, although I turned my eyes away a few times, I was glued to my seat. I do appreciate a good tragedy, and in this genre you have to expect a lot of death. Classical tragedies lament human powerlessness, as we cower beneath fate and frailty. This time around, the tragic flaw is more like a tragic curse: that we all deserve to die. Several characters say it outright. The bad guys deserve it, and so do the rest. Which leads me to...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;God in it:&lt;/strong&gt; God's presence in this movie is best illustrated by His absence. I seem to be drawn to movies of chaos this weekend (or Oscar is). I have to say that the premise of this movie is in agreement with scripture. Death is not only inevitable, but deserved. The most interesting and horrific symbol of this occurs when all the fine innocent townfolk eagerly consume Mrs. Lovett's cannibal pies. The message is crystal clear: &lt;em&gt;Humans devour each other&lt;/em&gt;. We call it love, but we really feed on each other to keep ourselves alive. And we teach our kids to do the same. It's all over this film. It would be unbearable if the movie didn't squeeze in a little hope through Anthony, the wide-eyed idealistic youth willing to risk it all for the love of Johanna. They are two of three characters to survive. The only other is Toby, who will no doubt continue life as a hungry, angry scoundrel. Characters like Sweeney are so doomed that they kill the ones they love the best. Only Anthony tapped into any heroism, but the story isn't really about him. It's all about Sweeney Todd, a symbol of hopeless, starved, victimized humanity. A dirge for the road we're all on -- save for the hope of a savior.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Final Note:&lt;/strong&gt;  I just checked out the official website (linked above) and it's fascinating.  The makers of the film see it as a love story, and indeed that's a level I didn't think about much, being so overwhelmed with the darkness of it all (hard to avoid in a Burton film sometimes).  But Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter strike a very moving and sexy counterpoint -- their eyes and voices are infectious and lovely.  The love yearns and hopes but is never fulfilled.  And, on a most interesting note, I found out that Anthony's last name is &lt;em&gt;Hope&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-1509225834095776068?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/1509225834095776068/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=1509225834095776068' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/1509225834095776068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/1509225834095776068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2008/02/oscar-weekend-day-three-part-one.html' title='Oscar Weekend, Day Three, Part One'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/R7j05a9q0ZI/AAAAAAAAADk/aCWpUxlYx7I/s72-c/sweeney_todd_depp.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-2417436473950695373</id><published>2008-02-16T19:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-16T19:47:26.589-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Oscar Weekend, Day Two</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Tonight:&lt;/strong&gt; NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Reaction:&lt;/strong&gt; Watched 15 minutes, walked back to the box office, got a refund, went home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Nutshell:&lt;/strong&gt; Non-stop graphic murder. Unbearably offensive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Popcorn:&lt;/strong&gt; None. I'm back home eating sugar free jello.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-2417436473950695373?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/2417436473950695373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=2417436473950695373' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/2417436473950695373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/2417436473950695373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2008/02/oscar-weekend-day-two.html' title='Oscar Weekend, Day Two'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-1113012026849899102</id><published>2008-02-15T21:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-16T04:58:26.791-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Oscar Weekend, Day One</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/R7Z_7a9q0YI/AAAAAAAAADc/R4wClKuV6pI/s1600-h/clayton.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5167458281281212802" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/R7Z_7a9q0YI/AAAAAAAAADc/R4wClKuV6pI/s200/clayton.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The husband and daughter are out of town for a few days, leaving me to a movie-priority weekend! I'm on an Oscar preparation mission. Trying to avoid popcorn along the way. Will post nightly on movie reactions and popcorn avoidance success.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tonight: &lt;a href="http://michaelclayton.warnerbros.com/#"&gt;MICHAEL CLAYTON&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Reaction:&lt;/strong&gt; fantastic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Nutshell:&lt;/strong&gt; Michael (George Clooney) is the "fixer" for a law firm that's defending a sinister agricultural company, and everything in his financial and professional life is on the line. His cohort in the firm has a moral epiphany and Michael gets caught in the middle. &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Analysis:&lt;/strong&gt; I love it when a film explores a single profound theme through multiple characters. In this one, everyone is drowning in chaos and they're up to their eyeballs in it. One character, Karen, "fixes" everything through careful plotting, planning, and murder. Michael's friend, Arthur, is so intoxicated by the possibility of redemption that he constructs a mad symphony of salvation for himself and everyone he's wronged... but the music is so loud that he doesn't hear the footsteps at his back. Michael plays out his role like a leading man should, piecing together the clues and bringing the chaos to justice.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;God in it:&lt;/strong&gt; The message here is that our chaos needs a savior. There's no sense in taking the reins by ourselves and being our own "fixers" because we are all totally inadequate alone. Some of us drunks, some of us lonely, some of us bankrupt, some of us nearly mad... things only get fixed when love comes into play. This film doesn't suggest there is a Heavenly Savior, but it's definitely on to something good. Michael's triumph couldn't have happened without his skeptical cop brother, his lowlife loser of a brother, and (more indirectly) his affable, book-reading son. In one scene, when he narrowly escapes a car bomb, one might ask if a Higher Power was looking down on him. There is a lot to ponder in the film from a Christian standpoint. Highly recommended.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Popcorn Status:&lt;/strong&gt; Movie snacks by-passed, but quick cereal binge upon homecoming. Give self a C+.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-1113012026849899102?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/1113012026849899102/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=1113012026849899102' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/1113012026849899102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/1113012026849899102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2008/02/oscar-weekend-day-one.html' title='Oscar Weekend, Day One'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/R7Z_7a9q0YI/AAAAAAAAADc/R4wClKuV6pI/s72-c/clayton.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-2990290325741910373</id><published>2008-02-09T16:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-14T19:18:25.520-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A-Caucusing We Go</title><content type='html'>Today I attended the Democratic caucus meeting in support of Barack Obama. No Republican infiltration alarms went off as I entered the building. As I found my table, two of my neighbors (retired teachers from across the street) were there -- she for Hilary, he for Barack. Then I spotted our church minister of music walk by. A pregnant Muslim woman sat beside me. It was so crowded that it took an hour just to find chairs for everyone and reconfigure the building for some of the larger precincts with big turnouts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/R65ej69q0VI/AAAAAAAAADE/DNBDlfey8og/s1600-h/obama.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5165169793856885074" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 236px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 138px" height="138" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/R65ej69q0VI/AAAAAAAAADE/DNBDlfey8og/s200/obama.bmp" width="383" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, a woman approached the microphone to tell us that we were here to take back America from the Republicans!! I fessed up to my friend Leona that I was actually undecided between Obama and McCain. But between Obama and Clinton, my opinions are rock solid. I determined that I would talk little and listen a lot, but as it turned out, there was no political discussion at the table at all. No one in our group was an undecided. On our first tally, the count was 9 for Clinton and 11 for Obama. We had 4 delegates for our precinct, and that meant that Clinton won 1.8 of them and Obama, 2.2. WHAT??? My silence turned into questions. Were we just turning in hypothetical delegates, wherein 1.8 of a person would just combine with 0.2 of another precinct's person to create two full hypothetical delegates? Or were we voting for 4 actual live human beings? There was disagreement. The fellow across the table (who looked eerily familiar, but I still can't figure out who he is) decided to make a mini-speech on behalf of Ms Clinton inviting one Obama supporter to break rank, giving us a 10-to-10 count and thereby eliminating the hypothetical 0.2 person. A woman two chairs away agreed to give up her Obama vote. Whoa Nellie, says I! What good does it do us to manipulate our tally so as to come out dead even? "If we're here to change America," I say, quoting the theme o' the day, "What good does it do for us to vote 2 against 2?" If we've got to send partial delegates, I want to hold on to the Obama lead! Viva the 2.2! Others counter me by saying that our votes will be added in to the big democratic pot. Somewhere inside, the part of me that still wants to remain silent, I'm thinking that every person's vote needs to count, and votes should be cast on principle, not charity. Then the precinct chairman gives out the verdict: we are to round to the nearest whole and elect actual whole people with actual full bodies to our four delegate positions. So, here we are back to the 2 and 2. No one else is interested in changing their vote. And thus, I watch the political process take a 9-to-11 and round it into a 2-to-2. Very interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As this unfolds, I'm taking notes. I volunteered to write down the details of the "debates" and tallies when no one else jumped at the chance. So when it comes time to elect 2 delegates from among the Obama supporters, the eerily familiar man across the table nominates the chairman and the "secretary." That would be me. Very funny. Lifelong Republican gets elected to be a Democratic delegate. This is fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'll show up at the high school down the street on April 5th to carry the torch for Obama again. Technically, I'm free to change my mind. Also interesting. Delegates, in addition to remaining whole persons, can also be their own independently thinking persons. As a delegate elected to vote Barack, I could always decide at the last minute to vote Hillary. Fat chance of that though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The truth is, I disagree with Obama on several issues. For one, the estate tax. I also have misgivings about a national health plan - but I've read his ideas on Obama.com, and if he can make it work, then I'm all for it. I just wonder whether a country that can't manage Medicaid or Medicare (or Social Security for that matter) can manage a national health plan. I took a free on-line issues test several weeks ago, and it turns out I agreed most with Romney. I used to think I agreed with George Bush. In the end, I don't think I mind going with someone I don't fully agree with. (If agreement were the goal, who among us could remain married?!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Truth is, I like Obama. He seems to be a truth-teller. He's classy. He's not jaded. His ideas about politics favor grass-roots and non-profits. Lots of very different people like him. Oprah likes him. Todd Vick likes him. 11 out of 20 in my precinct like him. Looks like the state of Washington likes him... so far, he's way ahead in the early counts with a 2-to-1 lead.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-2990290325741910373?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/2990290325741910373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=2990290325741910373' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/2990290325741910373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/2990290325741910373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2008/02/caucusing-we-go.html' title='A-Caucusing We Go'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/R65ej69q0VI/AAAAAAAAADE/DNBDlfey8og/s72-c/obama.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-3072449640782924735</id><published>2008-01-24T11:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-24T11:41:57.471-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Plenty Better to Do Indeed</title><content type='html'>Today is a day completely in alignment with my blog title.  On Monday, grades are due at good ole Seattle Christian.  This means the administration and scoring of 75 final exams, 75 formal essays, as well as several stacks of homework assignments which I've procrastinated upon for weeks.  Some since Christmas.  At the moment, I should be at school finishing up said exam with my 10th graders.  But I am here, at home, with a semi-sick daughter on the couch watching the never-ending Disney Channel line-up of cartoons.  She doesn't look sick or sound sick, but the thermometer insists that she is.  So here we are, at home, when we both need to be at school.  And what am I doing?  Reading and writing blog posts.  Avoiding my duties, at least for another five minutes.  Then I will be out of excuses.  And into the abyss of paper grading, in which I am doomed to suffer for the next three days, approximately.  Anybody want to stop by and help?  Minimal knowledge of &lt;em&gt;Oedipus&lt;/em&gt;, &lt;em&gt;Hamlet&lt;/em&gt;, and &lt;em&gt;Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead&lt;/em&gt; required.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-3072449640782924735?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/3072449640782924735/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=3072449640782924735' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/3072449640782924735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/3072449640782924735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2008/01/plenty-better-to-do-indeed.html' title='Plenty Better to Do Indeed'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-8397274282523231159</id><published>2008-01-01T18:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-01T18:52:09.627-08:00</updated><title type='text'>08, Oh My</title><content type='html'>After Pretend Christmas, the Real New Year rolled around with not one but two sickos - the hubby and the kid.  We were supposed to have the neighbors over for some traditional Southern blackeyed peas, collard greens, ham, rice, and corn bread.  Instead, we cancelled the guests and enjoyed our infirmary/kitchen/movie theatre/library/Internet cafe in relative peace.  Nothing like ringing in the new year with Robitussin rather than champagne.  Sets me to thinking about the days-in and -out from the year past:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Jay turned 40, and 2008 will bring the same for me and my two best pals... perhaps a joint birthday bash in SC?&lt;br /&gt;2) Harper started first grade and learned to read!&lt;br /&gt;3) Went to Disney World&lt;br /&gt;4) Reached the 100-page mark in my efforts to write a novel&lt;br /&gt;5) Got my old job back: half-time teaching English at Seattle Christian&lt;br /&gt;6) Visited Charleston, one of my favorite cities&lt;br /&gt;7) Read a little Dostoyevski&lt;br /&gt;8) Volunteered at my church and made some new friends&lt;br /&gt;9) Gained 10 pounds on a 1-1/2 week vacation and never bothered to lose it&lt;br /&gt;10) Redecorated the living room with brown leather, black furniture, and a fancy new Bose sound system, courtesy of the tax refund&lt;br /&gt;11) Quit Southern Living sales&lt;br /&gt;12) Found gray hairs! Oh my!&lt;br /&gt;13) Saw Hall and Oates and Sting in concert (but not the same concert)&lt;br /&gt;14) My brother Curtis got married to Karla&lt;br /&gt;15) Read my favorite childhood book, &lt;em&gt;From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler&lt;/em&gt;, to my daughter!&lt;br /&gt;16) Found some decent jeans&lt;br /&gt;17) Made cherry preserves from our own backyard cherry tree&lt;br /&gt;18) Tried a spray-on tan for the first time - not to be repeated in 08&lt;br /&gt;19) Finished my beloved Harry Potter series&lt;br /&gt;20) Totally skipped New Year's midnight by taking a bath and falling asleep in bed with a book in my lap. Not bad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-8397274282523231159?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/8397274282523231159/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=8397274282523231159' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/8397274282523231159'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/8397274282523231159'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2008/01/08-oh-my.html' title='08, Oh My'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-4707056216105954618</id><published>2007-12-30T15:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-30T20:00:02.388-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pretend Christmas</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/R3gszZidXPI/AAAAAAAAAC8/3iG90vGxHeA/s1600-h/Disney126.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5149915435438529778" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" height="165" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/R3gszZidXPI/AAAAAAAAAC8/3iG90vGxHeA/s320/Disney126.JPG" width="243" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div&gt;Yesterday was "Pretend Christmas" at our house. Real Christmas was staged at a Disney World hotel (pictured), and so we still had all our gift unwrapping to look forward to upon our return to Seattle. Our first day back was recuperative, and day two was to be last-minute Christmas shopping... except that Little One decided to puke in the middle of Macy's. So Pretend Christmas came around to our house with a mild flu. Saturday morning, we arose to Jay in the kitchen (hurrah!) and a big Southern breakfast (three cheers!) followed by family gift giving. Harper was so overwhelmed with her generous assortment of new playthings, particularly a doll set from her Mimi, she was heard to exclaim: "I thank the Lord our God for these toys!" Jay managed the video camera and simultaneously unwrapped the customary socks and DVDs, plus the leather coat purchased from Macy's (immediately prior to the vomit episode). He and Harper also received matching remote control helicopters from his folks - much enjoyed by all including the dog, who would really like to get her paws on those things. I was not overlooked either: Williams and Sonoma hot chocolate paraphernalia from the in-laws, French perfume from the hubby, a &lt;em&gt;Message/NASB&lt;/em&gt; Bible from Mom. It really did feel like Christmas. We lounged the day away, nursed Harper's fever (holiday sickness is traditional for the Kirks) and I caught a late night movie. Balanced my checkbook, too. It's nice to end the year with relaxation, shiny new stuff, and fiscal order! Amen, and Happy New Year!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-4707056216105954618?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/4707056216105954618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=4707056216105954618' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/4707056216105954618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/4707056216105954618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2007/12/pretend-christmas.html' title='Pretend Christmas'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/R3gszZidXPI/AAAAAAAAAC8/3iG90vGxHeA/s72-c/Disney126.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-1745989686596505177</id><published>2007-12-08T21:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-09T19:26:05.039-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Turn!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/R1uHxeiefPI/AAAAAAAAACs/sM6tlhmkT_8/s1600-h/love_actually.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Favorite Christmas Songs&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Note: changes every year!)&lt;br /&gt;1. "Please Come Home For Christmas" The Eagles&lt;br /&gt;2. "Jesus, What a Wonderful Child" John Legend&lt;br /&gt;3. "Linus and Lucy" Vince Guaraldi&lt;br /&gt;4. "Mary, Did You Know?"&lt;br /&gt;5. "Celebrate Me Home" Kenny Loggins&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. New Year's Song:&lt;br /&gt;"Seasons of Love" from &lt;em&gt;Rent&lt;/em&gt; soundtrack&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Favorite Christmas Movies/TV&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. "Santa Claus is Coming to Town"&lt;br /&gt;Fond memories with Dad, Mom, and Curtis.&lt;br /&gt;2. "Christmas Vacation"&lt;br /&gt;Lovin' Cousin Eddie's dickie, and Aunt Bethany's prayer!&lt;br /&gt;3. "Love Actually"&lt;br /&gt;A collection of interwoven vignettes. Tearjerking and funny. Love, love, love it.&lt;br /&gt;4. "The Grinch"&lt;br /&gt;Your heart is full of unwashed socks, your soul is full of gunk... CLASSIC.&lt;br /&gt;5. "It's a Wonderful Life"&lt;br /&gt;Unparalleled in mood and message.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Favorite Christmas Foods&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Festive homemade iced sugar cookies&lt;br /&gt;2. Gramma Crabb's tea cookies&lt;br /&gt;3. Southern dressing with gravy and a side of turkey and sweet tea... Ah!!&lt;br /&gt;4. "Jo-Jo's" and milk (Oreo type cookies with bits of peppermint in the filling, sold annually at Trader Joe's, my favorite grocery store)&lt;br /&gt;5. Minted hot chocolate&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-1745989686596505177?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/1745989686596505177/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=1745989686596505177' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/1745989686596505177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/1745989686596505177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2007/12/my-turn.html' title='My Turn!'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-2654948800786591129</id><published>2007-11-17T21:13:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-08T21:52:35.259-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tantrum 101</title><content type='html'>I have two college degrees, more than 12 years teaching experience, a decent IQ, and a lot of self confidence, most of the time... but nothing, NOTHING, prepares you to deal with 6-year-old temper tantrums. Today, I tried to ride the tide. Last time the temper tempest kicked in, I promised myself I would never again try to physically restrain her or heap punishment after punishment for each ingredient of the tantrum, but GET HER TO HER ROOM AS SOON AS POSSIBLE until she had morphed back into Dr. Jeckyl. Today, however, the carpet cleaning lady was upstairs. So we were stuck. I tried to turn the living room chair into time out headquarters. Then, I made the mistake of telling her she could not get up from the chair until I said OK - on the penalty of a spanking. Two minutes later, she looked me in the eye and got up. Uh-oh. Now I was committed to a spanking. I took her by the hand and headed back to the chair, explaining the impending consequence. When she realized I was serious about the spanking, she fought back within an inch of her life, I let go, and she careened into the TV stand. Reminder: No physical restraints, EVER! So, we tried time out in the bathroom. Didn't stick. Time out in Daddy's study. Better. Screaming, stomping, screaming, stomping. When she was calm, we sat together on the couch and I outlined the consequences of her behavior (no &lt;em&gt;Bee Movie&lt;/em&gt;, no TV, one week). Then she disappeared into the kitchen. This was the first moment of silence in 45 minutes. She was making me a card. This is what it said (do your best with the spelling):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I am sorry. My hort is rilly hord.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It is very supre coild and gray in our backyard.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I hope you frgive me for all the bad things I've dun.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;How much love did I have&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The ancr is nun.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I love you. Love, Harper. To mom.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like I said, NOTHING prepares you for days like this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-2654948800786591129?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/2654948800786591129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=2654948800786591129' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/2654948800786591129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/2654948800786591129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2007/11/tantrum-101.html' title='Tantrum 101'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-4348197971673867112</id><published>2007-11-04T09:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-04T10:18:37.563-08:00</updated><title type='text'>When October Goes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/Ry4L6l3hspI/AAAAAAAAACk/34tgpLlwzYc/s1600-h/autumn+tree.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129050126846898834" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/Ry4L6l3hspI/AAAAAAAAACk/34tgpLlwzYc/s320/autumn+tree.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It always makes me sad when October slips by. It's my favorite month of the year, and the only consolation in its passing is that December is my 2nd favorite and November my 3rd favorite. I love the fall. Everything about it. And... now this is a big secret, so don't tell anyone... I really love the fall in Seattle. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I used to think East Coast autumns were the ideal, and those crisp blue-sky red-leaf days when you can open the windows rather than crank the AC or the heater are still at the top of my list. But Seattle's seasonal gray has grown on me. The leaves are still beautiful, and since there are more and taller evergreens, the background of green to the orange, brown, red and fire yellow foilage is spectacular. In the PNW, you get a shade of gold that is brighter and denser than anything I've ever seen further east or south... especially on those wonderful fall Sundays when we take the annual drive to Leavenworth, Washington. Leavenworth, situated in the mountains about two hours from Seattle, is a faux Bavarian town with all the German trappings you could ever hope for in this Octoberfest month. This year, we made the trip in September instead, with Jay's folks Jim and Linda in tow. But back to October.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We get a lot of rain in the fall out here, and gray skies blanket the month. I've grown to like it, actually. It finally pushed me over the edge of my coffee phobia. I have graduated into a Starbucks regular. It started when we first moved here and Jay would foist one extra-sweet, high-fat latte upon me each holiday season. About two years ago, I realized I looked forward to my annual hazelnut breve. Then I got sucked into the eggnog latte. And then the pumkin spice. Last year, when the holidays were over and the eggnog gone, I could not let go of my new cold-weather friend, so I switched to the sugar-free cinnamon dolce latte. Yesterday, I practically danced through the gray, crisp-leafed afternoon with my delightful cup of sugar-free gingerbread java. So far, I can't abide coffee sans milk, but maybe that's on the way too. In another 10 years perhaps.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;October is also Halloween, which is not my favorite holiday by any stretch, but I can't help the nostalgic reaction to its sights and smells. I love to see kids dressed in costumed flitting about a moonlit street in small packs. Last week at church, I had to fetch some supplies from a cabinet and got a whiff of candy -- just a plain old bucket of random wrapped candy -- and the aroma just threw me back to childhood. October smells like fresh innocence. Its flavor is reassuring, cozy pumpkin spice. It's an explosion of my favorite colors: green and blue with splashes of fire and comfort. And as it turns out, I love it even with a background of gray.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-4348197971673867112?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/4348197971673867112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=4348197971673867112' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/4348197971673867112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/4348197971673867112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2007/11/when-october-goes.html' title='When October Goes'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/Ry4L6l3hspI/AAAAAAAAACk/34tgpLlwzYc/s72-c/autumn+tree.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-3473389682543535805</id><published>2007-09-20T17:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-20T18:05:32.294-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Ten Things</title><content type='html'>1. What were you doing 10 years ago?&lt;br /&gt;Teaching school in SC and planning on moving to Denver where I could heal my broken heart... Jay and I had split earlier in the month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. What were you doing one year ago?&lt;br /&gt;Teaching one class at Seattle Christian, tutoring, driving Harper to kindergarten, avoiding housework.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. What are five snacks you enjoy?&lt;br /&gt;cookies and milk, tortillas 'n' cheese dip, ice cream, Cheetos, hummus on almost anything&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. What are five songs that you know the lyrics to?&lt;br /&gt;Solsbury Hill/Peter Gabriel, One Angry Dwarf/Ben Folds, Git Back Honkey Cat/Elton John, Rich Girl/Hall &amp;amp; Oates, Copa Cabana/Barry Manilow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Name five things you would do if you were a millionaire.&lt;br /&gt;vacation to England/Scotland, vacation to Greece/Italy, new house on East coast, sponsor a missionary school, hire a maid and personal trainer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Name five bad habits.&lt;br /&gt;not throwing away your own trash, making mouth noises, avoiding dish-washing, not putting away clothes, complaining as soon as you wake up in the morning&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. What are five things you like to do?&lt;br /&gt;reading at coffee shop, take very hot baths in dim lighting, stay up late watching TV by myself,  going to movies, having frozen drink nights with the hubby&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. What are your five favourite toys?&lt;br /&gt;digital SLR camera, label maker..... Hmmm, I guess I really don't like toys much&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. What are five things you would never wear?&lt;br /&gt;fuzzy top hat from the fair, dog collar, sequin mini skirt, orange convict jumpsuit, diving gear&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Name five things you hate to do.&lt;br /&gt;raking leaves, extensive mathematical computations, filing, anything to do with Ebay, playing volleyball&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-3473389682543535805?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/3473389682543535805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=3473389682543535805' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/3473389682543535805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/3473389682543535805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2007/09/my-ten-things.html' title='My Ten Things'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-1574892675222009153</id><published>2007-09-14T22:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-14T22:20:58.294-07:00</updated><title type='text'>After-School Comments</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RutrY0mhxjI/AAAAAAAAACM/EL0HclFYgb8/s1600-h/First+Grade1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5110296276363232818" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RutrY0mhxjI/AAAAAAAAACM/EL0HclFYgb8/s320/First+Grade1.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Monday: "Spencer told me he knows how to hypnotize. He's going to bring me instructions tomorrow."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tuesday: "Katie gave me her phone number and told me to call her as soon as I get home." (and thus it begins...)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Wednesday: "Dad says Spencer is pulling my leg. So I told him that I have a time machine and I traveled back to yesterday."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thursday: "I need to make my homework look good. Mrs. Matthews is a big look-gooder. She's also a big recycler. It's good for the goverment."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Friday: "How do you build a time machine? I need to make one by Monday."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-1574892675222009153?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/1574892675222009153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=1574892675222009153' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/1574892675222009153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/1574892675222009153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2007/09/after-school-chats-from-harper.html' title='After-School Comments'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RutrY0mhxjI/AAAAAAAAACM/EL0HclFYgb8/s72-c/First+Grade1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-4755155458254241078</id><published>2007-09-14T22:06:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-14T22:09:02.065-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hall and the Other Guy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RutomUmhxhI/AAAAAAAAAB8/wOBuaunmTHw/s1600-h/Hall+and+Oates+(2).jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5110293209756583442" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RutomUmhxhI/AAAAAAAAAB8/wOBuaunmTHw/s400/Hall+and+Oates+(2).jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Courtesy of Jay's cell phone at concert.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-4755155458254241078?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/4755155458254241078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=4755155458254241078' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/4755155458254241078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/4755155458254241078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2007/09/hall-and-other-guy.html' title='Hall and the Other Guy'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RutomUmhxhI/AAAAAAAAAB8/wOBuaunmTHw/s72-c/Hall+and+Oates+(2).jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-2981104629905485369</id><published>2007-09-06T00:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-06T01:12:38.299-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A 9th and a 1st</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/Rt-0BVD9t6I/AAAAAAAAABs/XT_GVcG91-w/s1600-h/chickenjetA+.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5106998437388072866" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 291px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 201px" height="213" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/Rt-0BVD9t6I/AAAAAAAAABs/XT_GVcG91-w/s320/chickenjetA+.jpg" width="296" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Last night was our anniversary. My husband of nine years and I celebrated over dinner and gifts along with our daughter of six years. Today was also Harper's first day of first grade, and she was far more excited about our anniversary than going to school. She presented each of us with gifts: I received a handmade book about her favorite flavors of ice cream along with a drawing of "mommy and daddy sitting in a tree k-i-s-s-i-n-g." Her father received a Chicken Jet. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;James, true to tradition in every way, marked year nine with pottery. Thus, I received a large pasta bowl in our wedding registry pattern, plus matching smaller bowls and a promise of new glassware to come. I gave him a cloth hardback Wodehouse anthology. I cannot imagine being in love with a man who doesn't love Wodehouse. Nor can I imagine being married to anyone besides the dear old chap who inspired the Chicken Jet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-2981104629905485369?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/2981104629905485369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=2981104629905485369' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/2981104629905485369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/2981104629905485369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2007/09/9th-and-1st.html' title='A 9th and a 1st'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/Rt-0BVD9t6I/AAAAAAAAABs/XT_GVcG91-w/s72-c/chickenjetA+.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-3412873334066893543</id><published>2007-09-01T00:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-01T00:56:48.555-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Taste and See</title><content type='html'>I like to sit around and think about stuff.  Poke around on the Internet and figure stuff out.  But I realize that, mostly, I just like to be right.  Reasoning leads to a nice neat pattern, and patterns are easy to live in.  Just like I prefer to sleep in a tightly made bed, with lots of perfect right angles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It occurs to me, however, that God is not much interested in all that.  The Apostle Paul, who knew a great deal more about God than anyone alive today, said he saw "through a glass darkly."  And, lest we forget it, "even the demons believe."  So me having things figured out might not be all that important after all.  I think the best moments of knowing God -- "being a Christian" -- have very little to do with creed.  Certainly, we need to study the Word if we expect to recognize God's voice when it comes a-whispering.  But the Still Small Voice doesn't usually speak in syllogisms or theorems.  He speaks in gut-level conviction, hate-melting love, and poetry-breathing beauty. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Taste and see that the Lord is good."  You know, tasting has not a whit to do with logic.  It's purely sensual.  Requires savoring.  Stillness.  Sometimes, I really just need to shut up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-3412873334066893543?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/3412873334066893543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=3412873334066893543' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/3412873334066893543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/3412873334066893543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2007/09/taste-and-see.html' title='Taste and See'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-922867205366428434</id><published>2007-08-28T19:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-28T21:44:58.116-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Celebrities in Seattle</title><content type='html'>Two celebrity figures managed to significantly impact my day yesterday. The first was George W. Bush, whose arrival and departure from Seattle caused every airport-connecting thoroughfare in the city to be closed down. Since I live five minutes from the airport, that means my house was effectively blocked by police at every angle. At first, I didn't know what was going on... traffic had slowed to a crawl and orange cones were springing up everywhere. "What the heck!" I thought to myself, "is the president in town?!" The answer happened to be yes. It took me two hours to make it home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second celebrity was Daryl Hall. He appeared in concert along with the other half of his duo, but in truth I really don't pay much attention to John. Apparently, he is quite used to second billing and probably takes home his million without complaint. On stage, Oates played his guitar and dutifully sang second fiddle behind a single monitor. A few feet over, the blond-locked heartthrob Hall stood behind four audio monitors, a video monitor, and two wind blowers... which added to his carefully crafted sex appeal by whipping said blond locks in a super-cool, rock-n-roll fashion about his crooning face. I was sucked right in. I jumped and clapped and swooned like a schoolgirl. I swear it was just the music... they are indeed my favorite band of all time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The leader of the free world and the most successful rock duo of all time. August 27th, 2007. Oh, and we also had our septic tank pumped that morning. What a day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-922867205366428434?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/922867205366428434/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=922867205366428434' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/922867205366428434'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/922867205366428434'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2007/08/two-celebrities.html' title='Celebrities in Seattle'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-3238480136793780847</id><published>2007-08-09T17:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-09T18:17:25.582-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Curtis and Karla Make It Official</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/Rru7u9cYJZI/AAAAAAAAABU/ieQ7txafTas/s1600-h/engaged.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096873818741810578" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 221px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 270px" height="353" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/Rru7u9cYJZI/AAAAAAAAABU/ieQ7txafTas/s400/engaged.JPG" width="284" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The news is in... my brother Curtis has finally proposed to girlfriend Karla, and judging by the ring on her finger I assume she said yes! The Crabb clan (and Kirk contingent) are raising glasses in their honor today from Ohio to Colorado to Washington... and hopefully in Tennessee, too, where Karla's folks are from. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;TOP TEN REASONS TO CELEBRATE:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;10. Continued "K" alliteration in the family... Karla Crabb plus Curtis Crabb&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;9. Cousins for Harper! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;8. She brings yet more good looks into the Crabb gene pool, if that's possible  (number 8 dedicated to Uncle Larry)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;7. Mom and I can finally start planning the rehearsal dinner, which has been in unofficial development since we first met Karla just over a year ago&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;6. A woman's touch in the bachelor pad&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. He's definitely not gay!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. He is so overwhelmed with happiness that he won't even be mad at the gay joke&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. A new recipient for crab themed gifts!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Our mother can finally relax&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. I've run out of ideas... please leave &lt;em&gt;your&lt;/em&gt; number one reason as a comment!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-3238480136793780847?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/3238480136793780847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=3238480136793780847' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/3238480136793780847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/3238480136793780847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2007/08/curtis-and-karla-make-it-official.html' title='Curtis and Karla Make It Official'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/Rru7u9cYJZI/AAAAAAAAABU/ieQ7txafTas/s72-c/engaged.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-1062694675216080119</id><published>2007-08-06T10:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-06T10:44:00.315-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ah, Harry</title><content type='html'>Anyone who knows me knows I love the Harry Potter books. When the latest came out, I carefully guarded my reading scenarios so this final experience could be savored. I tried not to read in hungry snatches throughout the day but in consciously selected settings, like the local coffee shop with a fireplace and easy chair (and cinnamon latte) or propped up in bed with lamplight (and hot tea). I finally finished it a week ago at 1:15 AM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be submerged in Harry's world is pure delight, and I am truly sad that it's all over... yes, I can always pick up one of the books and re-read, but the first time with its unrepeatable surprises and delights just can't be resurrected. The movies help, because they hit the mood and imagery of the books dead on, and thankfully there are two more new ones to come!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that I'm finished with Book 7, I've been free to unclog my ears to potential spoilers and surf around for a little Harry commentary, trying to keep the mood alive for a little while longer!  I discovered this one earlier this morning, from &lt;em&gt;Christianity Today&lt;/em&gt;. Despite all the controvery surrounding the books in Christian circles, there are still many of us who see Biblical symbolism and imagery worth talking about.  Book 7 comes complete with profound sacrificial love and Bible verse allusions.  For my Christian friends who are also Potter fans, you won't want to miss it: &lt;a href="http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2007/augustweb-only/131-43.0.html"&gt;http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2007/augustweb-only/131-43.0.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-1062694675216080119?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/1062694675216080119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=1062694675216080119' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/1062694675216080119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/1062694675216080119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2007/08/ah-harry.html' title='Ah, Harry'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692438911153853144.post-4404165679752001206</id><published>2007-08-02T23:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-03T00:18:52.644-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Naming a Blog</title><content type='html'>Having decided right off the bat that "My Blog" would not suffice as a title, I began scouring my brain for brilliant alternatives. My first thought was "On the Bandwagon Again," since I am trying this blog thing for the second time -- I fell off without a whimper some three years ago. But that still sounded too bland, even when I toyed with the variation "On the Funky Bandwagon Again, Y'all."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luckily, my magnetic poetry kit was within reach, so I closed my eyes and randomly selected three tiles. The result: "Still Repulsive Moment." I am not kidding. Maybe my magnetic poetry kit knows something I don't. I replaced the tiles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next option...&lt;br /&gt;I recently read a horrible little book entitled &lt;em&gt;Running With Scissors&lt;/em&gt; in which several of the characters readily engage in "Bible dipping," or asking God a question, opening a Bible, and pointing blindly to a phrase in which God apparently responds. Finding this too sacrilegious for my own tastes, I reached instead for the &lt;em&gt;Southern Living&lt;/em&gt; magazine conveniently within reach on my desk and performed the same task. "Oh &lt;em&gt;Southern Living Magazine&lt;/em&gt;, what should I name my blog?" Response: "Smart Watering FAQs." I don't think so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the final brainstorm hits -- "Nothing Better to Do." Then it occurs to me that the dishes are not done, my study is piled up in the wreckage of a re-org project, and I have a half-finished novel just a click away on the computer. There are plenty of other better things I could be doing. Thus is life... and thus is a title born.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5692438911153853144-4404165679752001206?l=carynkirk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/feeds/4404165679752001206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5692438911153853144&amp;postID=4404165679752001206' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/4404165679752001206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692438911153853144/posts/default/4404165679752001206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carynkirk.blogspot.com/2007/08/naming-blog.html' title='Naming a Blog'/><author><name>Caryn Kirk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04105680035948787907</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Za3OCd8IUlU/RrLP7nfVC5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/VwnTZEMF7qQ/s400/car+Caryn.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
