<?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-2050972342042495340</id><updated>2011-07-07T16:54:04.755-04:00</updated><category term='preschool'/><title type='text'>The Sasser Saga</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>66</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-4701455591270477274</id><published>2010-04-01T23:35:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-02T10:40:34.552-04:00</updated><title type='text'>April Fools 2010</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Last year Bryant and I pulled a joke on Ann Bennett and made "fish sticks and peas" for dinner. AB hates fish, and the prank worked fabulously! She pitched a fit about the fish, and she was convinced the cookies really were fish -- never mind I've never once made her fish sticks! Bryant thought it was hilarious, but AB was not so amused. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455547295477229810" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/S7X_XEpDaPI/AAAAAAAAAZo/vG3nTbD0HN8/s320/Spring+09+014.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THIS year, Ann Bennett wanted to play a prank on Bryant, and she wanted to make sure it was with a food he hates. She decided we should trick him with chicken pot pie, which for some reason he does not like. So, we made a fake chicken pot pie today. We baked a pie shell, and I baked the top shell flat on a cookie sheet. For the filling, we used white chocolate pudding with bananas chopped up as chicken and chopped and shaped starburst jellybeans (green, orange, yellow) as peas, carrots and corn. We put the top shell on, and it really looked like a pot pie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455549305968671634" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/S7YBMGTkO5I/AAAAAAAAAZw/EpR4y2T94sE/s320/Spring+10+031.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455549705395527650" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/S7YBjWSWX-I/AAAAAAAAAZ4/j8p7igu2aHw/s320/Spring+10+030.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to pick up Bryant from basketball, and AB (oh so subtley) asks, "did you leave the pot pie out?" To which Bryant instantly responds, "We're having chicken pot pie again? We just had it. I don't like pot pie." Well, AB could not hold it together and starts smirking. Bryant at first just gets mad and says he's going to laugh at her next time with have tilapia (as if he doesn't already do this!). About that time, we get home, and he realizes it might be a joke. But, he just wasn't sure. He walked in the house and smelled the baked shell, and he kept going back and forth - it's a joke, we're really having pot pie, no we're not. AB got the reaction she wanted, and B was a pretty good sport about it. He of course is spinning it that he knew we weren't really having pot pie, but we had him for a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not very good at these kinds of things, so this might be the extent of my April Fools' jokes on my kids. But, I highly recommend it at this age. It's fun. The kids understand it, and I think they appreciate it. I hope you had a great day. I have a picture of our pie, and I'll try to add it tomorrow.&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/2050972342042495340-4701455591270477274?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/4701455591270477274/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=4701455591270477274' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/4701455591270477274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/4701455591270477274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2010/04/april-fools-2010.html' title='April Fools 2010'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/S7X_XEpDaPI/AAAAAAAAAZo/vG3nTbD0HN8/s72-c/Spring+09+014.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-9095495243906728501</id><published>2010-03-05T10:25:00.009-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-05T10:56:44.504-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dr. Suess Character Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt; &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445172617840174098" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/S5EjpWsMJBI/AAAAAAAAAYw/57sJOgJWn-M/s320/Winter+10+064.jpg" /&gt;This week was Read Across America week at the kids' school. Today they dressed as a Dr. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Suess&lt;/span&gt; character, and there was a school wide parade. They gave out books yesterday. They have had guest readers all week. I don't know if the teachers loved the chaos, but it was really nice for the children in our school to have a school-wide FUN event. Thank you to those who coordinated this week's activities. &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445174155383554898" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/S5ElC2fGQ1I/AAAAAAAAAY4/-R9KNeJeL50/s320/Winter+10+069.jpg" /&gt;Bryant was most excited about this event because it meant he did not have to wear a uniform! He is Butch, the boy who sits behind Daisy Head &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Maizy&lt;/span&gt; and sees the daisy growing out of her head. After seeing the mass of Thing 1s or Thing 2s in the 5&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; grade, I'm guessing he's going to come home wishing he had made that choice, but at least he was out of uniform.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445174802234581938" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/S5ElogMZo7I/AAAAAAAAAZI/0wMyktJIws0/s320/Winter+10+066.jpg" /&gt;In case you don't recognize her, this is Cindy Lou Who. Ann Bennett willingly got up 15 minutes early and stayed focused all morning to have her hair done like this. For once, the time I've spent at Sweet and Sassy and that place in Myrtle Beach that I can't remember paid off. I was able to figure out how to do that thing on the top of her head. I have to say, I was quite proud of myself. I can't wait to see if it stays together all day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445175429070026066" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/S5EmM_VndVI/AAAAAAAAAZY/LOTkHYwZEAs/s320/Winter+10+070.jpg" /&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Look, here is Cindy Lou Who in school. Doesn't she look excited to be practicing her math facts?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445177864541281506" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/S5EoawLNnOI/AAAAAAAAAZg/PprAxsMWbfc/s320/Winter+10+077.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is Ann Bennett's class (a 1st/2&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;nd&lt;/span&gt; combo) dressed and waiting for the parade. They made sure everyone had something.  In the back row, there is Mr. Black (from Hop on Pop), Thing 1, Fox with &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Sox&lt;/span&gt; (I think that's it), Cindy Lou Who, Thing 1 and Thing 2, and the rest of the gang.  I don't have a picture of the Bryant's class.  They went right to their block 1 and started working, so I did not want to interrupt. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Finally, this last picture looks the most like a &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Suess&lt;/span&gt; character to me.  Her expression just made Carey laugh out loud.  I hope it brings you a chuckle as well.  Now go read a Dr. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Suess&lt;/span&gt; book to a child. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445175081701862738" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/S5El4xSl7VI/AAAAAAAAAZQ/3t3SatTnOgo/s320/Winter+10+065.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&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/2050972342042495340-9095495243906728501?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/9095495243906728501/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=9095495243906728501' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/9095495243906728501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/9095495243906728501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2010/03/dr-suess-character-day.html' title='Dr. Suess Character Day'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/S5EjpWsMJBI/AAAAAAAAAYw/57sJOgJWn-M/s72-c/Winter+10+064.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-5850778242573373954</id><published>2009-11-09T12:21:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-09T12:23:42.547-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Daddy Dollars</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SvhP8uw9iAI/AAAAAAAAAYo/6VWqtvNTG4s/s1600-h/Daddy+dollar1.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 190px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402155657795045378" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SvhP8uw9iAI/AAAAAAAAAYo/6VWqtvNTG4s/s320/Daddy+dollar1.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We are going to try a new system in our house. The kids are going to earn Daddy Dollars to spend in the Mommy Market for various things around the house. I had to share the dollar I created. I love this picture of Carey.  It is the face that always makes me smile.  It's his I'm happy and sharing that happiness with the world face.  I hope it motivates the kids!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-5850778242573373954?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/5850778242573373954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=5850778242573373954' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/5850778242573373954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/5850778242573373954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2009/11/daddy-dollars.html' title='Daddy Dollars'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SvhP8uw9iAI/AAAAAAAAAYo/6VWqtvNTG4s/s72-c/Daddy+dollar1.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-3513861505838427961</id><published>2009-11-06T08:43:00.015-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-06T09:38:26.779-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Halloween!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400987373779535250" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SvQpZpp_xZI/AAAAAAAAAXQ/V_h0F3M2G7Y/s320/Fall+09+057.jpg" /&gt;First off, it's been a little crazy around here the past couple of weeks, so we never made it to the pumpkin patch to get a pumpkin. But, I win the bad Halloween Mommy Award because I didn't even get one at the grocery store. So, on Halloween, AB was about to have a fit to carve our pumpkin, which of course meant we had to find a pumpkin. I wasn't really worried though. I was sure there would be a few at the grocery store, but you know what? There was not one anywhere! Nana and Pop were already planning to come over before we headed out for Trick-or-Treating, and Mandy is always festive and prepared. So, we called them, and Nana saved me! She had a pumpkin, and they brought it to carve with us.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400987746267782530" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SvQpvVSHXYI/AAAAAAAAAXY/rcuFP-WI_Cg/s320/Fall+09+022.jpg" /&gt; It takes a lot of people to clean out a pumpkin.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400988273403374530" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SvQqOBBCK8I/AAAAAAAAAXg/DK9k4Wb98T8/s320/Fall+09+024.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;p&gt;I know there are all kind of cool carving kits, and we even have an inexpensive one. But, Pop is old school when it comes to pumpkin carving. Give him a giant knife and a little girl with a plan, and he can conquer the pumpkin!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400989285308597650" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SvQrI6qChZI/AAAAAAAAAXo/WTuIXkQ-NQ4/s320/Fall+09+026.jpg" /&gt; Next, I had to get pictures of the kids in costume, just in case I didn't get a chance later. Bryant very wisely requested a picture by himself. I'm glad he did. It turned out much better than any of the pics of them together. Plus, he is not sure if he is going to trick-or-treat again. If this is the last one, I'm glad I have a pic. You might be thinking this picture looks a little familiar. If so, you're right. Bryant wore this same thing last year. I might not get a pumpkin, but I've had enough costume issues to know to be prepared. So, early in October I started asking him what he wanted to be. He said, he'd just wear one of his jerseys or something. He never changed his mind, and he was perfectly happy in this. Plus, we didn't spend 2 cents on it! I think he likes it because he can play football at the party/dinner before heading out.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400990036875411554" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SvQr0qdiAGI/AAAAAAAAAXw/P2bc2v1V9C4/s320/Fall+09+039.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ann Bennett on the other hand, looked through every magazine that came our way. She decided she liked a "car hop" outfit. However, I thought it was entirely too short, so I made one. She picked out the materials, oh and Kristine -- who made the amazing costume AB wore last year -- made the hat for her. I've been amazed at the number of people who don't know what a car hop is! We never found the saddle oxfords she wanted, but when it came down to it, she was happy without them. I was happy not to have spent the money on shoes for one night!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400990513617106642" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SvQsQadm9tI/AAAAAAAAAX4/S3lU81RkL5k/s320/Fall+09+040.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;For the past few years, we have gone to some friends' neighborhood and done Halloween together. We did this again this year. It starts with a party/dinner in the park. Ann Bennett was a little freaked out to see Anne Cathryn as this scary creature. It was a little better when &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;blond&lt;/span&gt; headed AC lost her black wig. You can see &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;AB's&lt;/span&gt; somewhat confused/apprehensive look on her face!&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400992281595563650" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SvQt3UshToI/AAAAAAAAAYA/Qn2FVGMh8mA/s320/Fall+09+048.jpg" /&gt; I found it kind of funny that both Bryant and Mac's costumes were the same this year as last. Well, Mac adapted his. He had a new hat, and a different blanket I think. But, he was still a Carolina fan. Mac says he's going to be this for the rest of his life, so if B does dress up next year, I think he should be an obnoxious State fan! &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400993356677240914" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SvQu15r92FI/AAAAAAAAAYI/Pkb9xu9qHOU/s320/Fall+09+046.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think Frances' costume was a little more comfortable for AB, and I know all the girls were happy to be together. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400994536058256050" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SvQv6jOT-rI/AAAAAAAAAYQ/O4jCtvVCrfY/s320/Fall+09+050.jpg" /&gt; &lt;div&gt;Not the best picture of AB, but she's with Lily - a friend from church. We lost her by the time we were trick-or-treating, but they had fun together before hand!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400996115000619922" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SvQxWdPgc5I/AAAAAAAAAYY/vZlgfLZi8BM/s320/Fall+09+053.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Last, heading out to get some treats. Griffith, Frances and AB. Somehow I missed getting a picture of AC and Mac's brother, Dean -- aka Michael Jackson. I also don't have any more pictures of the boys at the party because they were too busy chasing the girls and throwing the football to stand still for me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400996997236068658" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SvQyJz01ETI/AAAAAAAAAYg/0OO3GQ38G20/s320/Fall+09+055.jpg" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-3513861505838427961?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/3513861505838427961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=3513861505838427961' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/3513861505838427961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/3513861505838427961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2009/11/happy-halloween.html' title='Happy Halloween!'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SvQpZpp_xZI/AAAAAAAAAXQ/V_h0F3M2G7Y/s72-c/Fall+09+057.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-5711120598853430909</id><published>2009-11-06T08:34:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-06T08:43:06.973-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fall Fun?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400984466378693874" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SvQmwavnnPI/AAAAAAAAAW4/GLsJjYclG4k/s320/Fall+09+017.jpg" /&gt; A couple of weeks ago I was determined to get at least our front yard raked. For some reason, Ann Bennett thinks this is a fun job, and I certainly enjoy the help. Unfortunately, her passion does not last as long as the job, but hey, she's 7.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400984846759073138" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SvQnGjxXlXI/AAAAAAAAAXA/ccyf-LETaZ8/s320/Fall+09+033.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bryant on the other hand, does not think this is a fun job at all! He was my not so willing participant, but I appreciated his help as well! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400985292464889714" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SvQnggJ6n3I/AAAAAAAAAXI/P-UJsr1TZLc/s320/Fall+09+034.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I could have done without his pre-adolescent drama, but at least he helped pick up the leaves and dead grass -- killed by the guys who we PAY to fertilize and kill weeds, but that's another story! I spared you the picture the kids took of me raking. Let's just say it wasn't pretty!&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/2050972342042495340-5711120598853430909?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/5711120598853430909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=5711120598853430909' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/5711120598853430909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/5711120598853430909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2009/11/fall-fun.html' title='Fall Fun?'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SvQmwavnnPI/AAAAAAAAAW4/GLsJjYclG4k/s72-c/Fall+09+017.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-3927828344206305108</id><published>2009-10-05T21:35:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-05T22:38:13.246-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Far From Home</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have not felt so far from home since Mom's accident. At that point, I felt I was far from home no matter where I was. When I was here, home felt like GA. When I was there, home felt like NC. I essentially moved to NC in 1989! I went home for summers for a couple of years, and I was in school the first 3 years. Those years don't REALLY count, but still, I moved HERE in 1992. It was so hard to be away from home, and many times I wonder why in the world I stuck it out! In retrospect, I realize I could have found another job in GA. It might not have been the exact same thing, but really. Certainly wonderful things happened because I moved here. I would not be the woman I am today if I hadn't, and I would not have the honor of living this life I live. But, sometimes I just miss "home." And I wonder if this will ever BE home. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 294px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389307310409373730" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/Ssqqce5d2CI/AAAAAAAAAWw/JfXpAXsA6Dk/s320/Baby+shower.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dear friend Katrina lost her father last night. And, every nerve in my body wants to be with her. I want to cook something, take it the family, hold her hand, go to the visitation, go to the funeral, hug her mom, hug her sisters and brothers. She is such a good friend, and Doc was such an amazing man. I did not always agree with him, but what parent does a child always understand? One thing I always understood about him, even as a teenager, was his love. He loved in such a big way! His big hugs, his big laughs, his big talks, his big discipline -- they all were models of a loving father, so in a way a picture of God for me. For some reason the thing that is sticking out right now is when Linda, Katrina and I were sophmores, I think, we wanted to take a bus from Marietta to St. Petersburg to visit our friend Patricia who had recently moved. We were all good girls, and Linda and I managed to convince our parents it was OK. Katrina tried, I tried, I even think my mom tried to talk to Doc, but he was having nothing of it. He did not trust what others might do to us. At the time, it felt like an excuse to me and that he didnt' trust us, but he was the boss and Katrina stayed home. Linda and I got on a bus to FL. When I think about that trip, I understand his fears and persistence. That was the first time I ever saw the mentally ill. At the time I didn't know it, but I clearly remember a person talking to door knobs. We made it there and back safely -- except for a sunburn that will probably one day soon turn into skin cancer, but at this point in my life, I think Doc was right. Boy, would he like to hear that! He liked to be right and have others know it. But, at the same time, he was so down to earth. He was a dentist in Cobb county, but he basically managed to live and raise his family on a "farm" - at least by Cobb county standards. Only at Kat's house did I get close enough to a cow to understand just how big they were! And, oh, could he sing with a sparkle in his eye, heart and voice. He loved music and loved sharing it. He passed on that love to his family, and I have been lucky enough to recieve the gift of that music. Karen played for us on many BSU trips in college. Kristy played the violin/fiddle when I didn't even know about the instrument. The two brightest and most recent memories of this music occurred when Mom was in the hospital. The first was when Kat came to to visit at Windy Hill and sang hymns with Mom. It was beautiful. Mom sang along with Kat's beautiful, loving, gentle voice, and I will never forget it. It was a miraculous gift and picture that Mom was in that body somewhere. Then, the Easter Mom was at Kennestone, they were looking for someone to come lead a group on the rehab floor in song. I called Katrina, and she and Doc came and sang. It was the last time I saw him, and he was singing and ministering with his daughter at the very hospital where he took his last breath in this life. I love that man and the legacy he leaves behind. I can't imagine how his children and Kathy must be feeling. What a joy it is to know that he is in heaven rejoicing, singing and not worrying about his health, but oh the hole he left behind! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 218px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389306592892756418" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/Ssqpyt8LIcI/AAAAAAAAAWo/QsUAMQTdOWI/s320/Kat,+Pat+and+me.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remembering this man and knowing my friend is hurting, makes me feel very far from home! I want to be there to celebrate his life, but I really do not know if I am going to be able to make it happen or not. My heart hurts to think about missing it, but my head just can't see a way. Anyway, I'm feeling very far from home and wondering if THIS will ever be home. I know it is home for my children, and it is where I will live my life. If we moved, I'd miss this life and all the friends we have. When I am logical, I can't really imagine living back in GA, but then this homesickness comes along. I guess that is why you should just never leave home. That is what I'm telling my children -- go off to school, go travel, but come home to have children and live your life!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-3927828344206305108?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/3927828344206305108/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=3927828344206305108' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/3927828344206305108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/3927828344206305108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2009/10/far-from-home.html' title='Far From Home'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/Ssqqce5d2CI/AAAAAAAAAWw/JfXpAXsA6Dk/s72-c/Baby+shower.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-3052044383714474940</id><published>2009-09-21T17:19:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-21T17:51:22.174-04:00</updated><title type='text'>How Did He Get Old Enough for This?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384038164715212482" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SrfyL1j_DsI/AAAAAAAAAWQ/NPnhTbvKYiA/s320/Fall+09+015.jpg" /&gt; Yesterday was the first day of Junior Cotillion for Bryant and many of his friends from school. He actually missed baseball practice for this. Doesn't he look handsome? It was the first time he's worn a coat and tie, escorted and seated a lady, danced with a girl. It was also the first time I tied a tie. (Carey still went to practice since he's the coach, but we figured it out! You really can find anything on google.) ANYWAY, I did not do cotillion as a child, but my cousins did. I guess it might be something you do in smaller towns. As it turned out, I was asked to chaperone this week, and I am really glad I was there. We both learned a lot. In this first class, Bryant learned:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;* He should offer a lady his right arm to escort her. He is responsible for choosing where they are going to sit. But, she went ahead and told the boys that even though they are officially in charge, it is nice and polite to ask the lady where she would like to sit. So, really, the lady decides. I thought that was probably a good lesson to go ahead and learn when you are 10! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;* He learned to button his coat when standing, unbutton when seated. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384038652120707906" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SrfyoNSgs0I/AAAAAAAAAWY/3i44AwnFiWw/s320/Fall+09+011.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;* He learned to place his nametag on his right side.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;* He learned the electric slide, the fox trot and the shag. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is just a list of a few of the things he learned. I was so impressed with how well everyone behaved, and I was super impressed with how clearly the teacher taught the children. I'm glad I was there to learn the fox trot! There were basically two schools represented in this session of cotillion, and many of the moms from the other school stayed and watched. I would never have thought that was an option, and Bryant did not want me to stay anyway. We talked ahead of time about what I should not do to embarass him, and he told me not to get mad at him and not to take pictures. I told him the only thing I would be upset with him was if he was mean or rude or in some way made a girl feel bad when he was told to dance with her. He did a pretty good job with this. I only saw him cringe or roll his eyes once. We've already talked about how this can be very hurtful. I held true to my promise and did not take pics, but another mom there snapped a few for me. If I get them I just might post them as well. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384040838846733042" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/Srf0nfen2vI/AAAAAAAAAWg/qQbNxsgGG0A/s320/Fall+09+013.jpg" /&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, now I can dance with my son. It isn't fancy, but we can do it. How in the world did he get old enough for this? As you can see by this last picture, he's not quite sure what he thinks about this just yet.&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/2050972342042495340-3052044383714474940?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/3052044383714474940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=3052044383714474940' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/3052044383714474940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/3052044383714474940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2009/09/how-did-he-get-old-enough-for-this.html' title='How Did He Get Old Enough for This?'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SrfyL1j_DsI/AAAAAAAAAWQ/NPnhTbvKYiA/s72-c/Fall+09+015.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-7062599265638684431</id><published>2009-09-05T15:19:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-05T15:26:34.674-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Boys Let Me Down</title><content type='html'>Thursday night Bryant and Carey went to Raleigh to see NC State play &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;USC&lt;/span&gt;.  It was opening night.  ESPN was there.  They were all excited.  And, it was even better because they were able to take friends with them.  Hunter and Bryant have been playing baseball together for a long time now, and they are on the Braves together.  So, over the years we have spent a lot of time with this family.  They are also BIG State fans.  They even found a ticket for Hunter's little brother Nick to go -- his first State game.  So, off the five of them go Thursday.  I sent my camera with them.  Bryant is kind of obsessed with cameras, phones, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;ipods&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;itouches&lt;/span&gt;, or all things &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;techy&lt;/span&gt; right now.  I was not relying on Carey at all to take any pics, but I thought for sure Bryant would come through for me.  Nope.  Not one picture.  When they go off to State together in 8 years, I'm still going to mad at them for not taking any pictures!  To add insult to injury, State lost the game, and the boys swear it was the worst officiated college football game they've ever seen -- in their entire 10 years of life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-7062599265638684431?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/7062599265638684431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=7062599265638684431' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/7062599265638684431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/7062599265638684431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2009/09/boys-let-me-down.html' title='The Boys Let Me Down'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-3079834964471434985</id><published>2009-09-01T11:41:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-01T11:50:07.677-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Good-bye, sigh</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/Sp1BR6WpyCI/AAAAAAAAAWI/qAPQ4jrgn-w/s1600-h/Fall+09+008.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376525306128091170" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/Sp1BR6WpyCI/AAAAAAAAAWI/qAPQ4jrgn-w/s320/Fall+09+008.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This weekend we had to say good bye to a wonderful family. The &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Robinsons&lt;/span&gt; are moving to NY, and we are sad to see them go. Ann Bennett and Lydia started kindergarten together and became fast friends. Lydia's dad coached AB in soccer, and Lydia's big sister, Caroline is a rising 5&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; grader like Bryant.  Lydia and AB have really had fun together, and we are going to miss her.  It's hard to say good-bye to a friend when you are only 7.  We know they'll be back, and I'm hoping this will make AB want to write.  But, it is just not ever the same as having a friend in town with you.  Best wishes to the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Robinsons&lt;/span&gt;.  You will be greatly missed!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376525002655735170" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/Sp1BAP1NHYI/AAAAAAAAAWA/1LpZDHhXlLk/s320/Fall+09+007.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are the only pictures I have of the going away party we helped throw last Friday night.  First Baptist has a fabulous room for youth at their activity center, and since we were rained out of the pool, the party was in the Cove.  The kids danced, played video games, ran around and acted silly, played a little basketball, ate dinner, played ping-pong, pool &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;and the&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;wii&lt;/span&gt;.  They had a great time and did not want to stop for photos.  It was a really fun night.  I hope Lydia and Caroline enjoyed it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-3079834964471434985?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/3079834964471434985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=3079834964471434985' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/3079834964471434985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/3079834964471434985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2009/09/good-bye-sigh.html' title='Good-bye, sigh'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/Sp1BR6WpyCI/AAAAAAAAAWI/qAPQ4jrgn-w/s72-c/Fall+09+008.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-6936252959840680240</id><published>2009-08-25T23:18:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-31T23:41:30.795-04:00</updated><title type='text'>First Day of School</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376333633903657170" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SpyS9HrQANI/AAAAAAAAAVY/EnNcn1KmuTs/s320/Fall+09+005.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The first day of school for 2009-2010. For some reason I never get good pictures of the first day. I don't know if it's because it is so humid in August here, or if it is because we are trying to do this and get to school on time. But, these are the best I could do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376334289554856722" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SpyTjSKrWxI/AAAAAAAAAVo/vMGc54a3gtc/s320/Fall+09+001.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bryant is 10 and is starting the 5&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; grade. He is at the same school where he started K. We tried to move to another school last year, but when we did not get a spot, I felt certain that God was leading us to stay put through 5&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; grade. If you asked him before school started what he was most excited about this year, he probably would have told you not having to tuck in his shirt this year. Last year the 5&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; graders did not have to follow that rule. Bryant is in a combo 4&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;/5&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; grade homeroom, but his academic instruction will take place with 5&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; graders. It's a complicated system that the principal concocted. I hope it works. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376335444113924482" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SpyUmfPAoYI/AAAAAAAAAV4/hyBBeRE8cGE/s320/Fall+09+004.jpg" /&gt;Ann Bennett is 7 and is starting 2&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;nd&lt;/span&gt; grade. For the first time in her life she is in a girl heavy class. She has a fabulous teacher/assistant combo. She is also in a 1st/2&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;nd&lt;/span&gt; grade combo. (There are only 2 combos in the school and both of our kids are in them.) Her combo class is going to be great. They have taken a lot of independent workers (code for a higher ability group) in each grade and placed them together with few, if any, children with known behavior problems. I think she will have a really good year, and I'm happy for her!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376334770014817186" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SpyT_QBQi6I/AAAAAAAAAVw/s2ODxpd7bMs/s320/Fall+09+003.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Just to give you an example of what most of my pictures looked like, I thought I'd throw this one in to the mix. What's funny to me is this is how I wore my hair at her age, but I never fixed &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;AB's&lt;/span&gt; hair like this. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Hers&lt;/span&gt; has always gone to the side with a bow -- at least when I had it my way! But, she has decided that she likes it like this. I'll have to look for a pic of me with my hair just like this, but mine was not as fine as hers. In that way, her hair is more like Sandy's. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I wish that at the end of the day we were excited about the year, but with all honesty, we are feeling very shaky. The school is attempting to address behavior more aggressively this year (as they should), but it seems that in so doing a very negative environment has been created. Ann Bennett ended her day with a tantrum, and Bryant asked me to move him to another school or home school him. The only good thing about a bad first day is that day 2 has to be better! At least they were able to wear more color this year (any solid color shirt with a collar), and Ann Bennett can accessorize with belts, bows and jewelry. That always makes you feel better!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-6936252959840680240?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/6936252959840680240/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=6936252959840680240' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/6936252959840680240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/6936252959840680240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2009/08/first-day-of-school.html' title='First Day of School'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SpyS9HrQANI/AAAAAAAAAVY/EnNcn1KmuTs/s72-c/Fall+09+005.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-1020649729354446841</id><published>2009-08-24T23:00:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-25T00:51:45.804-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Last Day of Summer</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373754459802829218" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SpNpNba4AaI/AAAAAAAAAU4/jtiNNH58yeA/s320/Summer+09+137.jpg" /&gt;EVERY year since my children started preschool I have been ready for school to start. When they were preschoolers, I loved their preschool so much, and they were so happy there that we were delighted when it started. Last summer you might have heard me say there was nothing like summer vacation to make you appreciate public school. But, this year, I am just not ready for summer to end. We have had such a good summer! We decided not to have Bryant considered for all stars this summer, and I think that was the BEST decision we have made in a long time. It slowed the pace of our summer, let us all get some much needed sleep and really set the start of our summer off right! But, today was the last day of summer vacation. Ann Bennett spent the morning with her very good friend who will be moving to NY next week. Bryant, AB and I went to the beach this afternoon with our friends the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Colemans&lt;/span&gt; and the Bro&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;wnings&lt;/span&gt;. I had my camera and never took it out! The beach was gorgeous. The waves were a little rough, but the boys are all big enough and strong enough swimmers that they can &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;boogy&lt;/span&gt; board just fine. The girls played in the water and sand for a long time, and I even had a little time to sit and chat with my friends. It was a great afternoon. Bryant always likes to end the summer with putt-putt, so tonight the whole family went to play. It was a really nice way to end the summer. None of us are really ready for school to start. This age has its challenges, but it is mostly a lot of fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373754784567796402" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SpNpgVQ4IrI/AAAAAAAAAVA/hM2TGrebqPw/s320/Summer+09+136.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Bryant and Carey in the basketball challenge -- Carey smoked him!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373755754418858258" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SpNqYyPY6RI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/6qnnj7SF9JU/s320/Summer+09+141.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Bryant wearing &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;AB's&lt;/span&gt; sunglasses and being silly. He's going to love me for posting this one!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373755178444486306" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SpNp3QkZdqI/AAAAAAAAAVI/LYe1u_gR4NA/s320/Summer+09+139.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As Carey says when he gives the score, Ann &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Bennett&lt;/span&gt; is "having fun." But, she and I both made a hole in one on the first hole, so we each won a free game! The funny thing is that the very first time she ever played putt putt, the same thing happened on this very hole. After that, she took the max for every hole. She's making progress, but for now, she's having fun. And, with our free games, we can go practice some more. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, that's how we spent our last day of summer. I really hope next year is as much fun as this year was! &lt;/div&gt;&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/2050972342042495340-1020649729354446841?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/1020649729354446841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=1020649729354446841' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/1020649729354446841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/1020649729354446841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2009/08/last-day-of-summer.html' title='Last Day of Summer'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SpNpNba4AaI/AAAAAAAAAU4/jtiNNH58yeA/s72-c/Summer+09+137.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-1923398560195156396</id><published>2009-08-08T01:01:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-08T01:28:07.330-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Girls Gone FAB</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367456203825704418" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/Sn0I-rh_beI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/nahABXBhms0/s320/Summer+09+105.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;From the time Ann Bennett was tiny, like maybe 2, she loved the princesses and dressing up. She especially loved "&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Cindelella&lt;/span&gt;." For a while she even went through a phase where she called herself "Ann Bennett &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Cindelella&lt;/span&gt; princess." Even as a toddler she always had a purse. She loved (still does) shoes and accessories. Teaching toddlers and having a 2 yo &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;niece&lt;/span&gt; reminds me of this stage -- as do all the blogs I read of younger girls. About a year and a half or maybe even 2 years ago she decided Cinderella couldn't be her favorite because she wears Carolina blue, and recently the princesses have become a bit uncool in her age group. But, she has struggled against this. Earlier this year she told me that she didn't like princesses any more, but she was on the verge of tears while saying this. We talked about how it seemed like she did like princesses but most of her friends didn't really like them. I told her it was OK to still like them even in her friends didn't. But, the period of all things princess and fancy seemed to be fading. Don't get me wrong, she still loves her shoes, accessories, nails, lip gloss and recently hair stuff, but the princesses seemed to be fading away.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367456668175736098" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/Sn0JZtXqnSI/AAAAAAAAAUY/Pe4g9nWF5Js/s320/Summer+09+108.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Anyway, this week, I saw the newest version of dressing up. It seems a little like a trendy, hip, slightly sassy princess version. Notice they also dressed up Allie. In this picture, they are wearing the very first set of princess dress up clothes Ann Bennett had. Somewhere in this house I have a picture of a preschool Bryant in these clothes. He'd kill me if I ever found it and posted it, but trust me it was funny. It also only happened once.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367457514956319522" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/Sn0KK_346yI/AAAAAAAAAUg/zpUNAYwoSnA/s320/Summer+09+111.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's funny how as Ann Bennett gets older her play seems more familiar to what I remember as a child. I never dressed up a dog, but our poor cat, Daisy, was tormented by the dress up clothes. Allie did NOT like the dress up! I don't have a great picture because she kept moving around trying to get this stuff off!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367459304436369714" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/Sn0LzKNLiTI/AAAAAAAAAUw/MFrxzCVqqZQ/s320/Summer06+002.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367458517004903298" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/Sn0LFUy444I/AAAAAAAAAUo/xFj9fagv_YU/s320/Summer06+006.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And just so you can see what the previous princesses looked like, here are a couple of pictures of Ann Bennett and Anne Catherine 3 years ago (obviously in the "cheese" stage). These are the oldest pictures on this computer. I'd have to work a lot harder, but I bet I could find one very much like this even earlier. Just so you don't have to do the math, the girls were 4 in these pics. (These two are "birthday buddies" as they say. Their birthdays are only a week apart.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&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/2050972342042495340-1923398560195156396?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/1923398560195156396/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=1923398560195156396' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/1923398560195156396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/1923398560195156396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2009/08/girls-gone-fab.html' title='Girls Gone FAB'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/Sn0I-rh_beI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/nahABXBhms0/s72-c/Summer+09+105.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-1443228320092587498</id><published>2009-08-05T23:10:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-05T23:18:23.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Letters Home!</title><content type='html'>I really didn't think I would get a letter home from camp Trinity, but my B surprised me.  In my mailbox today was the following letter. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monday 1:37PM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Mom, and Dad&lt;br /&gt;           I already miss you.&lt;br /&gt;Today we played metec ball&lt;br /&gt;for share shops and crazy softball&lt;br /&gt;during free swim.  Because everybody&lt;br /&gt;had to take a swim test.  It is rest period&lt;br /&gt;right now.  We also won the cleanest&lt;br /&gt;cabin award.&lt;br /&gt;             Love you all the way&lt;br /&gt;                to the moon and back,&lt;br /&gt;                     Bryant&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While this might demonstrate just a wee bit why I think he needs some work on his writing skills, it sure makes me feel good to have a little love in writing from my son.  Carey thinks he is pulling our leg on the cleanest cabin award, but I don't know.  B has always been competitive.  Perhaps if I institute a competition for the cleanest room I'd be more successful!  For now, I'm just happy to have a letter.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-1443228320092587498?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/1443228320092587498/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=1443228320092587498' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/1443228320092587498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/1443228320092587498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2009/08/letters-home.html' title='Letters Home!'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-3252557932597074484</id><published>2009-08-02T20:59:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-02T21:01:50.101-04:00</updated><title type='text'>New Post Below</title><content type='html'>OK, someone has to tell me if it is possible to rearrange posts. I wanted the post about B going to camp to be the top post, so I posted the one about his nose first. But, apparently, since I started the one about camp first, it is listed as an older post. Is there any way to flip these?   Either way, be sure to read the post about Gone Camping.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-3252557932597074484?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/3252557932597074484/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=3252557932597074484' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/3252557932597074484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/3252557932597074484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2009/08/new-post-below.html' title='New Post Below'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-8246332369208878556</id><published>2009-08-02T19:43:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-02T20:57:47.289-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Gone Camping</title><content type='html'>This afternoon we drove Bryant to his first week of sleep away camp.  He is at Camp Trinity, &lt;a href="http://www.trinityctr.com/campt/"&gt;http://www.trinityctr.com/campt/&lt;/a&gt;.  (Someday I'm going to learn how you do that fancy thing where you can just click on the words and go to the link.)  Anyway, it is an Episcopal affiliated camp that is about 2 hours from here.  It is at the beach, and from what I hear it is an old fashioned camp.  The kids play a lot.  They swim and learn to sail some, but they have a lot of games and general silliness.  We knew that one friend was signed up for this week, but after he was accepted, we found out that a slew of kids from here are going to be there this week.  In his cabin are 3 kids who were in the toddler class with B at preschool.  Bryant doesn't remember one of the guys because they have not hung out since preschool, but the other 2 guys are really good friends.  And, there are 3 girls from his school there and another girl he knows as well. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, we got him settled in his cabin -- made his bed, put his toiletries away, etc.  It was time for us to leave, and I asked B if he wanted to walk us out.  He said yes, and my wonderful, precious big guy gave me the best hug on that porch.  He told me he was going to miss me, and he even admitted he was just the tiniest bit nervous.  Fortunately, there are a bunch of kids he knows and families I know.  I felt completely comfortable leaving him there.  If I had not felt so certain, it would have been much harder to leave.  I KNOW he is going to have a great time.  I KNOW he will learn a lot about being away.  I KNOW camp is where so many of us really begin our personal relationship with God.  I just HOPE he brushes his teeth, changes his clothes and MOST of all I hope he doesn't mess up his nose again!  Tonight's group activity is dodge ball.  I have not heard from the camp yet, so I'm hoping this means his nose is OK.  I am pretty sure evening activities are over and they are moving into the camp fire time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Long story short, my son is away for a week of camp, and I cannot wait to hear all about it and have him back home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-8246332369208878556?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/8246332369208878556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=8246332369208878556' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/8246332369208878556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/8246332369208878556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2009/08/gone-camping.html' title='Gone Camping'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-8440990432726299752</id><published>2009-08-01T19:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-03T09:34:24.831-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Broken But Not Beaten</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365523923211487730" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SnYrlJThifI/AAAAAAAAAS4/78DnlcYZaNY/s320/Summer+09+046.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SnYtaE4e0hI/AAAAAAAAATg/kMFSoQQN9zg/s1600-h/Summer+09+070.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;July 8th, Carey and Bryant went to the baseball park for some batting practice. Carey was throwing balls to B. B squared around to bunt and somehow missed the ball. Instead, the ball hit him in the face. They both knew instantly that the nose was broken. He dropped to his knees and said take me home. Carey was really flipped out, but the doctors didn't even want to see him immediately. That Friday, July 10, we went to see the ENT. She confirmed it was broken and that Bryant would need some surgery to repair it. The tricky part, as is always the case for the Sassers, is that we were leaving town on Sunday for a world series baseball tournament. It is really the biggest event of the travel ball team. Long story short, we decided to let B play in the tournament. His nose was already broken. If he got hit in the nose again, it would hurt, but they would just fix it when we do the surgery the following week. By waiting until we returned, it also meant one of Betsy's, our ENT, partners would have to do the surgery. We all decided that was OK. Bryant had to wear the face mask on his batting helmet, and he hated it, but he didn't have a choice. And, you know what? He had a great tournament. He made some great plays, slid into many bases head first, hit the ball and had a really good time with his team. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The picture at the top of the post is right after he came home. He was diligent about keeping ice on his nose. If you look very carefully, you can see that on HIS right, the bone is sticking out a bit at the top. You can also see on his left that the swelling or something was pushing right up into his left eye. The left side of his nose was also indented? It felt and still feels like it was flattened a little. I'm writing most of this so I remember later. Sorry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365528254106933474" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SnYvhPJdmOI/AAAAAAAAATo/3IvujrjNy9s/s320/Summer+09+059.jpg" /&gt;Just so you can see the black eye and swelling. A lot of people asked him about it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365528773544848802" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SnYv_eNHLaI/AAAAAAAAATw/eYJPW7jXwog/s320/Summer+09+070.jpg" /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365529596567656338" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SnYwvYNCl5I/AAAAAAAAAT4/roE6cjFU4X4/s320/Summer+09+065.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Mini golf in Myrtle Beach. This was a cool course. Some of the holes were in these huts. It also kept us a little drier than the group that played another course! Dylan, Hunter, Bryant and Duane. Every time we go to MB, Bryant wants to play putt putt, but we rarely have the chance. It was nice to be able to indulge this request!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365530457851582402" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SnYxhgvIV8I/AAAAAAAAAUA/c2vdJQ3vYsQ/s320/Summer+09+082.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Back home after surgery, with the "cast." He did really well with the surgery and anesthesia. He was really itching and not happy that he could not scratch his nose, but that was about all. The anesthesiologist gave him a benadryl, and the nurse warned that with the anesthesia and the adult dosage of benadryl that he would be very sleepy all day. He wasn't. He did not even take a nap until very late afternoon. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365531943075795986" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SnYy39oLVBI/AAAAAAAAAUI/m1hSyHnwbhg/s320/Summer+09+100.jpg" /&gt;Finally, just so you know he's back to normal, this is what I found on my camera after driving to GA. Apparently B was entertaining himself with taking pics on my camera. This one made me smile. Surgery to make sure his nose is fixed so he can contort his nose like this! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&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/2050972342042495340-8440990432726299752?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/8440990432726299752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=8440990432726299752' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/8440990432726299752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/8440990432726299752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2009/08/broken-but-not-beaten.html' title='Broken But Not Beaten'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SnYrlJThifI/AAAAAAAAAS4/78DnlcYZaNY/s72-c/Summer+09+046.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-5544719675568384142</id><published>2009-07-05T10:12:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-05T10:34:40.484-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy 4th!</title><content type='html'>We certainly had a memorable 4&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;.  We have spent the weekend at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Ocracoke&lt;/span&gt;  (an island on the outer banks where Glenn and Mandy have a house).  You have to take a ferry to get here.  From our direction you ride a 2 hour 15 minute ferry.  From the north end the ferry is about 40 minutes, I think.  Anyway, right at 9:00am, there was a huge explosion that shook the house.  I thought it sounded like some strange kind of thunder that just kept rumbling.  Carey thought it sounded like something blew up in here and water was then rushing through/pouring through the house.  We looked out the porch and (in addition to the gazillion other people we saw rushing out to look, including a man in his boxers which had Bryant in stitches) saw what looked like a huge white mushroom cloud.  As it began to fade, darker clouds of smoke were seen.  If you have not heard, the fireworks truck blew up.  They were just beginning to unload the fireworks and set them up for the celebration that night.  As they opened the back door to the truck, it blew up.  It threw one person to the water.  One person died quickly, and 4 were taken to the burn unit in Chapel Hill, I think.  Two more have since died, and the remaining 2 are in critical condition.  They immediately turned the ferry around and sent them back -- they were very close to landing.  I can't imaging how frustrating it must have been to see the island and then be turned around.  They did not allow anyone to come over on that ferry all day.  The northern ferry was closed for much of the day to allow emergency vehicles on and off.  It took quite a while for the helicopters to get here for the injured people, but fortunately there was some medical support on the island.  It was very tragic. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, we are thankful that more people were not injured in the accident.  This was only the 3rd year fireworks have been planned on this island.  I'm guessing that might be because they must drive those things over on a ferry.  Can you imagine being on the ferry with a loaded truck of fireworks?  I don't know if they will ever do it again.  I'm praying that the others injured will heal quickly and with minimal pain.  Having been in the burn unit at Chapel Hill, I know it is a very scary, hard place to be.  These people were all from Rock Hill, SC, so I hope their families are able to come be with them.  Every time I see fireworks from now on, I will probably remember this firework show that did not happen and just how dangerous a business fireworks can be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-5544719675568384142?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/5544719675568384142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=5544719675568384142' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/5544719675568384142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/5544719675568384142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2009/07/happy-4th.html' title='Happy 4th!'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-3896560196884411986</id><published>2009-06-30T23:23:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-30T23:35:40.689-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The JOY of Coaching Your Son</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SkrZRuSVEXI/AAAAAAAAASs/YM04j8kNu2k/s1600-h/7941.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353330005589168498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SkrZRuSVEXI/AAAAAAAAASs/YM04j8kNu2k/s320/7941.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;OK, it is not always easy to coach your son. It is frustrating when your son will not listen to you. You feel like he might need someone &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;else's&lt;/span&gt; instruction. You worry about whether you are being blind to your child's difficulties or playing daddy ball. Sometimes you don't even recognize their strengths in an effort to be fair. It's hard to be coach and dad. But, Carey would not have traded the experience for anything. How long do you have this chance? And, then there are the rare opportunities you get to experience the joy of sharing a big victory with your son. I love these pictures of Carey giving B his trophy because he seems so happy, and he is so obvious with his love. No one else got a hug! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353328835899180546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SkrYNo2gRgI/AAAAAAAAASM/DzHoLGhPbsQ/s320/7893.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353328952826160322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SkrYUccEZMI/AAAAAAAAASU/iw8U5AcaJYo/s320/7894.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353329079762244242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SkrYb1T_UpI/AAAAAAAAASc/vL9nHQOkk_o/s320/7895.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353329199003692514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SkrYixhXbeI/AAAAAAAAASk/qeZGeYxK4N0/s320/7931.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-3896560196884411986?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/3896560196884411986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=3896560196884411986' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/3896560196884411986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/3896560196884411986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2009/06/joy-of-coaching-your-son.html' title='The JOY of Coaching Your Son'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SkrZRuSVEXI/AAAAAAAAASs/YM04j8kNu2k/s72-c/7941.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-3324377918832076783</id><published>2009-06-30T22:33:00.011-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-30T23:22:46.313-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hoisting the Cup!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SkrME77ugBI/AAAAAAAAARM/W1h-clNysc4/s1600-h/Certificate2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353315492263002130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SkrME77ugBI/AAAAAAAAARM/W1h-clNysc4/s320/Certificate2.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The summer of 2007 Carey finished his 4th year coaching Cal Ripkin baseball (2 years of tee ball and 2 years of machine pitch). He was an assistant coach on the All Star team the first year of machine pitch, and he was the head guy the summer of '07. We won the District III All-Star tournament and did well at states, but we only did OK at our local park. After All-Stars, Carey was determined he would not be coaching Bryant any more. He told everyone who asked and even some who didn't. He felt like he had coached all he could. Well, it is now 2 years later, and he's coached 2 full years (4 seasons) more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;At the start of this year, Sasser Appraisals was one of the teams to beat. We lost (or maybe tied) our very first game to an expansion team. It was not a pretty picture. But, we finished our season 9-3-1. Oh the stories I could tell. It's amazing the politics and craziness that accompany kids' sports! Anyway, our park has an end of the year tournament for all levels except tee-ball. (Although the first year Bryant played even tee ball had a tourney - it was crazy!) All of the games in our division, the Minors, were exciting games. Our second game was against the team that finished just ahead of us and had beaten us in the last regular season game. Man were we off that night! But, we beat them in an exciting game to make it to the Championship game. Our biggest competition and the winners of the regular season did not make it to the championships! That was a big upset. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Anyway, I'm sure you can tell where this is going. The Sasser Appraisal boys played their hearts out and won the tournament. It was very exciting! There were so many people there that night. It was the last week of school, and people turned out to watch. It made me very nervous. But, the boys won, and I'm not sure who was more excited - Carey, Coach Brian (who coached the team for 2 years even though he did not have a child on the team), the parents or the boys. But, here's the story in pictures.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353319366590837954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SkrPmc7dtMI/AAAAAAAAARU/BYVSV9Z4xps/s320/7850.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Coach Brian huddling the infield up in the last inning (we were visitors), so we needed one last out to win. Who knows what he said!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353320163751593842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SkrQU2lZh3I/AAAAAAAAARc/AzvXfg7viMk/s320/Michael5.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Just after he struck out the batter for the final out. Have you seen a more joyous expression? I love how the others are running in to celebrate with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353320315858799474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 211px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SkrQdtOlS3I/AAAAAAAAARk/c33BYmaLbgc/s320/Winners.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The mob scene after the win.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353321952462791874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SkrR8-DYZMI/AAAAAAAAARs/SMDHsNf-n9A/s320/7890.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Hoisting the team trophy -- as Carey says.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353322500991257602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SkrSc5ewjAI/AAAAAAAAAR0/N_09tciJnk0/s320/Summer+09+005.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;Waiting for their individual trophies. At this point, you only get trophies if you win the regular season or the tournament, so these actually mean something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353322961063094642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SkrS3rYbqXI/AAAAAAAAAR8/wbJW9ZSfvnk/s320/7938.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Alright, here's what we're going to do. One more huddle and let's make sure everyone can hear us. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353323136247250850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SkrTB3_lv6I/AAAAAAAAASE/fdCdixL-UTc/s320/7939.JPG" border="0" /&gt;1, 2, 3, "Sassquatch" (For some reason that's what they always called it up with.)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;And that ends the 2009 Minor League season. We'll see what happens in the Majors next year! If you want to see a video of the joy, here's a link to another Mom's video. It is NOT me yelling beside her. I was yelling, but I just wasn't right beside her. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XcSSJPqO5HY"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XcSSJPqO5HY&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-3324377918832076783?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/3324377918832076783/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=3324377918832076783' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/3324377918832076783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/3324377918832076783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2009/06/hoisting-cup.html' title='Hoisting the Cup!'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SkrME77ugBI/AAAAAAAAARM/W1h-clNysc4/s72-c/Certificate2.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-680501708874879543</id><published>2009-06-11T13:59:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-11T14:15:06.881-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Wax Museum</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SjFG4nG-RRI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/nIsyqIxiB_8/s1600-h/Spring+09+181.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346132171050337554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SjFG4nG-RRI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/nIsyqIxiB_8/s320/Spring+09+181.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the 4&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; grade at our school, the kids all dress up as a famous North Carolinian and have a "wax museum" for the other children and any interested parents to come see and read about. As you can see and probably predict, Bryant chose a famous baseball player from Wilmington. His name is Trot Nixon, and he spent most of his professional career with the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Redsox&lt;/span&gt;. It is really neat because Carey's dad coached Trot in football in high school, and he actually went to our elementary school for a year. I wish they had required a longer report because this is something Bryant might have had enough interest in to actually research and write a nice report about, but at least what he wrote was grammatically correct. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346132518425763298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SjFHM1LuneI/AAAAAAAAAQ8/cMrBdzgiaL0/s320/Spring+09+178.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is Enos Slaughter (aka Christian), Andy Griffith (aka Van) and Sugar Ray Leonard (aka John) in front of Trot. They line up all around the school and have to stand still for about an hour. Of course, B was not able to accomplish THAT feat, but he looked good!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346133706697789314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SjFIR_12z4I/AAAAAAAAARE/5w7EL_C_yjQ/s320/Spring+09+184.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;This is Mary Elizabeth &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Winstead&lt;/span&gt; (aka Maddie) with B/Trot.  It's nice to have famous friends.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I've heard other people complain about all the dress up requirements in elementary school, but I think this is the only time Bryant has had to do this.  Once in 5 years so far is not bad.  The kids all enjoyed it, and I think they learned a lot about who is from NC -- as did I since I did not grow up here.  Besides, what else are they going to do the day before the last day of school?  It is much better than a movie!  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-680501708874879543?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/680501708874879543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=680501708874879543' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/680501708874879543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/680501708874879543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2009/06/wax-museum.html' title='Wax Museum'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SjFG4nG-RRI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/nIsyqIxiB_8/s72-c/Spring+09+181.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-6856781093572207183</id><published>2009-06-08T15:10:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-08T15:14:28.978-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Not Very PC</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/Si1iXb7MzQI/AAAAAAAAAQs/rsB3fYm9r2A/s1600-h/scarf.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345036487531220226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 67px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 100px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/Si1iXb7MzQI/AAAAAAAAAQs/rsB3fYm9r2A/s320/scarf.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;While driving around today, we saw a lady wearing what I think is called a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;hijab&lt;/span&gt;.  I tried to find a picture just to make sure everyone knew what I was talking about.  This one seems a little more trendy than some, but you get the idea.  Anyway, this started a conversation with my kids about why people wear these.  I stumbled through an explanation of modesty.  Ann Bennett said she thought it was to keep the bugs out of your mouth.  I am still chuckling about this.  I guess maybe we need to do some cultural education.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-6856781093572207183?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/6856781093572207183/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=6856781093572207183' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/6856781093572207183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/6856781093572207183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2009/06/not-very-pc.html' title='Not Very PC'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/Si1iXb7MzQI/AAAAAAAAAQs/rsB3fYm9r2A/s72-c/scarf.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-3009111847469584863</id><published>2009-06-06T17:12:00.010-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-06T17:46:27.475-04:00</updated><title type='text'>NEVER Thought I'd See This</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SircChjt8sI/AAAAAAAAAP0/BsC74Qsjwag/s1600-h/Spring+09+175.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344325843754545858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SircChjt8sI/AAAAAAAAAP0/BsC74Qsjwag/s320/Spring+09+175.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Having 10 and 7 year old children means I hear a lot of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;arguing&lt;/span&gt; and complaining about each other. I'm never fair. They are both mean, and by golly, one of them looked at the other one! They talk over each other. I spend a lot of time dealing with this issue, trying to remain calm and teach how to behave toward each other. MANY times I fail and lose it with their &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;arguments&lt;/span&gt;. Add to this that they have few interests in common. I mean, TV is the great equalizer, and they will play games together (board or the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;wii&lt;/span&gt;) on occasion. But for the most part, B wishes he had an older brother - or at least a younger brother. AB loves to go to Bryant's baseball games, but it is because it is her social scene. Her girls are there, and she almost never watches a game.  She will tell you she'd like a sister too (especially after visiting her friend with 3 older sisters), but I think she'd keep Bryant too.  I keep telling Bryant in particular that he's going to be glad he has a sister when we are all older, but he's not really buying it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344326218550266850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SircYVx-y-I/AAAAAAAAAP8/ZyOTbRviyf8/s320/Spring+09+176.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div&gt;So, imagine my surprise when this morning as I was pruning the overgrown &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;box woods&lt;/span&gt; in our front yard, I hear Ann Bennett volunteer to throw balls to Bryant to hit! He took her up on it, and you know what? They played together that way for probably an hour. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344326711901670146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/Sirc1DqHywI/AAAAAAAAAQE/0ZjoF4HAUeM/s320/Spring+09+164.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As you can see by the previous 2 pictures, AB still has a bit to learn about soft toss.  He's catching the first ball.  The second one he swung at even though it was way too high.  I think he was afraid it was all he was going to get, and on occasion he remembers what his preschool teacher taught him (you get what you get and you don't pitch a fit).  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344327730412013106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SirdwV56RjI/AAAAAAAAAQM/Wx5GjiZLynQ/s320/Spring+09+166.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;But eventually, she threw him some good ones.  He "jacked" it all over the place.  He encouraged her, and she VERY patiently kept feeding him balls.  They even went to pick up the bucket full of balls together without complaining.  I'm telling you it was a miracle.  I went to get Carey to serve as a witness to the miracle &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;occurring&lt;/span&gt; in our front yard.  It was Carey who wondered whether it was wise to have Bryant hitting real baseballs in the front yard.  (B broke his first window around 5, I think,  hitting golf balls at grandpa's house.)  I knew our windows would be replaced even if broken by a ball, and I think my neighbor has a similar agreement.  Either way, I decided the bliss of seeing them play together was worth the cost of a broken window if necessary.  Fortunately, we have some trees in the front that blocked the damage; although, one hit the power lines.  That was a bit unsettling.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344328830430115794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SirewXyqd9I/AAAAAAAAAQU/fGM-q2_xcy0/s320/Spring+09+173.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Anyway, Ann Bennett even decided to try to hit.  When she asked Bryant to throw to her, he agreed without a fight!  He reminded her how to swing and gently tossed balls to her.  I did not hear even ONE comment about her lack of technique.  He cheered for her when balls were hit well.  Miracle, I'm telling you!  Did you hear the angels where you are? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344329469879264386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SirfVl7OJII/AAAAAAAAAQk/SAy07PWeDAY/s320/Spring+09+172.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;My smiling, agreeable 10 year old.  Proof that he's in there.  (He not only played with his sister, he let me document it.)  I might need this picture over the next "104 days of summer vacation."  (Anyone out there recognize that song?)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344329186043826722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SirfFEjlEiI/AAAAAAAAAQc/bhqYQct3_9c/s320/Spring+09+171.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Last, did you notice Ann Bennett's choice of clothing for this activity?  Pink helmet and tee-ball bat, Hannah Montana shirt (from her Halloween costume), jean skirt and 2 inch wedge sandals.  Priceless!  But, her daddy and brother taught her well -- her eyes are on the ball!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Here's hoping for a summer full of pictures just like these!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-3009111847469584863?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/3009111847469584863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=3009111847469584863' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/3009111847469584863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/3009111847469584863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2009/06/never-thought-id-see-this.html' title='NEVER Thought I&apos;d See This'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SircChjt8sI/AAAAAAAAAP0/BsC74Qsjwag/s72-c/Spring+09+175.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-1034172190272850895</id><published>2009-05-23T18:14:00.011-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-23T18:40:22.352-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Daughters</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/Shh2N1zx_9I/AAAAAAAAAO0/oSCW60tHtqg/s1600-h/Spring+09+162.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339147338402365394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/Shh2N1zx_9I/AAAAAAAAAO0/oSCW60tHtqg/s320/Spring+09+162.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Some days having a daughter just takes my breath away. Today is one of those days. We went to a birthday party at a spa for girls. Ann Bennett had her hair done and a mini mani and mini pedi. I'm sure there could be lots of commentary on spa services for young girls, but I'll leave that for others. For us, it is fun. She is such a girly girl and always has been. I've had the nature/nurture argument many times! But, boy is this girl a GIRL, and I love her to pieces - pop star hair, princess necklace, hearts on her fingers and toes, animal lover and all! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339148491530502674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/Shh3Q9i9AhI/AAAAAAAAAO8/lwEHeWgOzPM/s320/Spring+09+154.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is actually the second time we've been to a place similar to this, and I am always amazed with what they can do to hair! And, AB has that baby fine hair! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339151343317205554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/Shh529R4wjI/AAAAAAAAAPc/1nLnWBDds1w/s320/Summer+08+114.jpg" border="0" /&gt;This picture is from the last time we went to a place like this. That's her friend Courtney, another younger sister from Bryant's travel baseball team.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339148864127673442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/Shh3mplCpGI/AAAAAAAAAPE/6GVBZxVBhl8/s320/Spring+09+158.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is officially Bryant's cat, Sammy. She was named after Sammy Sosa - a Cubs player whose questionable use of drugs was not known at the time! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339152154180826450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/Shh6mJ-1tVI/AAAAAAAAAPs/K1CZOyCHuwk/s320/Spring+09+150.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339151774806534242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/Shh6QEs9aGI/AAAAAAAAAPk/l8dgSKoQDIA/s320/Spring+09+156.jpg" border="0" /&gt; Sammy has a love/hate relationship with AB. She knows AB is most likely to do this to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339149575159184274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/Shh4QCYKe5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/7PkbA9ROcHo/s320/Spring+09+163.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But at the end of the day, Sammy loves AB as much as AB loves her -- I think. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&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/2050972342042495340-1034172190272850895?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/1034172190272850895/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=1034172190272850895' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/1034172190272850895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/1034172190272850895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2009/05/daughters.html' title='Daughters'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/Shh2N1zx_9I/AAAAAAAAAO0/oSCW60tHtqg/s72-c/Spring+09+162.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-1939648246035148283</id><published>2009-05-23T11:55:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-23T12:06:27.758-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Theology Questions of the Week</title><content type='html'>Here are a couple of the questions I have been asked by my 10 and 7 year olds in the past week. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  Why did Jesus descend into hell?  (As in the Apostles' Creed)  I think the question was really if Jesus, who was perfect, went to hell, what chance do I have to escape the same fate.  I explained that Jesus was not sent to an eternal hell and conquered Satan even in death, but it got me thinking about the theology of this statement. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  I don't get how God said "Let there be light," and there just was light.  I don't get that.  I explained that no one understands the science of this, and this is where faith comes in.  I explained that some people who don't believe God created the world think that it all happend in some kind of big bang.  We talked about how this didn't make a lot of sense either.  Faith is believing even when things aren't easily understood. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  Ann Bennett is really working on controlling her thoughts.  She has been struggling with passing judgements about people she sees at school -- so and so is fat, he's not very smart, her hair is ugly, etc.  We have talked about how Jesus asks us to take our thoughts captive and work on thinking about people as He sees them.  Every day she gets in the car and says she is still working on it.  One day in the past 2 weeks, she was so excited because she had a "good" day - meaning she didn't have any of these thoughts.  I've explained it takes a lot of practice and prayer to do this, but I've had a hard time actually telling her this is probably something she'll be working on her whole life!  That might not be very motivating. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, those are a few of the theological conversations we've been having recently in our house.  Who knew I needed to have my theology straight for conversations with my elementary school aged children!  It's amazing how much we learn from our kids.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-1939648246035148283?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/1939648246035148283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=1939648246035148283' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/1939648246035148283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/1939648246035148283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2009/05/theology-questions-of-week.html' title='Theology Questions of the Week'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-7256153090480646583</id><published>2009-05-21T10:35:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-21T10:52:52.885-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Working Out</title><content type='html'>Carey and I met at a gym.  He worked there (and worked out there), and I worked out for a couple hours a day at the time.  I didn't know anybody in town except for the people I worked with, and they all had families.  Anyway, about a lifetime ago, I worked out a lot - WE worked out a lot.  Then, most of my friends at the gym moved or had children.  Carey quit working at the gym and started appraising, and we had children.  Our time in the gym essentially dwindled down to none.  For the past 2 years, our membership has even been frozen. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, then I found out about this contest where 6 people were going to win 8 weeks of personal training 4-5 times a week.  I applied, but I was not selected.  But, they gave everyone who applied a temporary membership to the gym, a class just for those of us not chosen on Saturday mornings and a special rate for personal training.  So, I'm at least working out for now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been to the Saturday classes the past 2 weeks, and they are really good.  But, you can recover in a week!  I was kind of thinking, I could do the Biggest Loser (except for the weighing in wearing a bra and bike shorts!).  I've done everything she asked.  Yes, it hurts, but I've done it.  This week personal training started.  We went Tuesday and did part of a spin class, followed by a a bazillion plié squats, then ran up and down the 4 sets of steps throughout the gym.  Let me just say I could barely walk yesterday.  Then, I went back today, and she made me run (to be fair, it was only a couple of short intervals, but still), squat some more, and do those dadgum stairs -- among other things!  I'm developing a better understanding for the people on the Biggest Loser.  When Jillian is yelling at them to run and let go, I've always thought I'd never be able to do it.  Now, I know I'd fall off -- never mind throwing up!  At least my trainer is more reasonable than that.  I guess I kind of deserve this after taking such bad care of my body for so many years!  Baby steps.  Baby steps!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-7256153090480646583?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/7256153090480646583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=7256153090480646583' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/7256153090480646583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/7256153090480646583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2009/05/working-out.html' title='Working Out'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-80693848733893049</id><published>2009-05-01T16:43:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T17:03:17.466-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Battle of the Books</title><content type='html'>Last fall I MADE Bryant sign up to participate in the battle of the books.  For those of you unfamiliar with this program, students read a list of books.  Then they "battle" each other by answering questions such as "In what book did the main character visit a lady named Miss Caroline?"  The students have to answer the question and give the author's name.  Each school selects a team to represent them at the county level, and the team works together.  A student is asked a question, he consults the team, then gives his answer.  If right, they are awarded points for the title and author.  If wrong, the other team has a chance to answer the question and get their points.  You can see this link for more info, including the list of 30 books or so.  &lt;a href="http://www.battleofthebooks.org/4-62009.html"&gt;http://www.battleofthebooks.org/4-62009.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, Bryant was selected to represent his school.  I think they based this on how many books he read and how he did on the test.  Today was the battle, and his team came in 3rd in the county!  The team they lost to won the entire competition, so he felt really good about how they did.  I'm very proud of him.  He did NOT want to do this at the beginning, but once he got started, he really enjoyed some books he never would have read.  Some of them were more geared toward girls, but he survived.  I even found a few books I'll make sure Ann Bennett reads later on as well.  (The list changes annually.)  I am very proud of him for sticking with this and doing well in the battle.  Way to go B!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-80693848733893049?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/80693848733893049/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=80693848733893049' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/80693848733893049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/80693848733893049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2009/05/battle-of-books.html' title='Battle of the Books'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-4414042741501412648</id><published>2009-04-27T12:30:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-27T13:39:07.076-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Easter!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SfXeouvq1aI/AAAAAAAAANI/iOc9fg1uLxc/s1600-h/Spring+09+120.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329410525386954146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SfXeouvq1aI/AAAAAAAAANI/iOc9fg1uLxc/s320/Spring+09+120.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I hope you had a great Easter. We were so happy to have Sandy, Jeff, Carson and Macie with us this year. They have never been here for Easter, so it was a special treat. In fact, they had been here all week. My camera is not working very well, so I don't have many pictures. But this one was Sunday morning heading to church. All 8 of us got up, looked at Easter baskets, hunted for eggs, showered, got dressed and made it to church by 9:25. I thought that was very impressive!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329411557198009506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SfXfkyimFKI/AAAAAAAAANQ/bkouxMfzKFs/s320/Spring+09+118.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div&gt;My beautiful sister and children. Neither one of us have pictures of our entire family. I guess the guys were the last ones to be able to get dressed, so they were a minute or two behind us. Plus, neither Jeff nor Carey like posing for these pictures!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329412118016027282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SfXgFbwB6pI/AAAAAAAAANY/Fe8mPcXd4Ho/s320/Spring+09+116.jpg" border="0" /&gt; All 4 of the kids - Carson (5), Bryant (10), Ann Bennett (7), Macie (2).  Aren't the azaleas beautiful? I'm in the process of chopping them down right now. They have gotten very "leggy" and overgrown. I'm hoping I don't kill them! They look beautiful for the couple of weeks they are blooming, but after that they just look overgrown!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329412962250052498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SfXg2kxG05I/AAAAAAAAANg/KwUpbrwmCPM/s320/Spring+09+093.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Dying eggs. Everyone enjoyed it, but Ann Bennett and Jeff earn the most into it awards! This is one of those times my camera did not cooperate, but trust me, Jeff's brown egg - which eventually was dyed blue - was a sight to behold!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329413778178609890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SfXhmEVokuI/AAAAAAAAANo/GzYMfV4LXqs/s320/Spring+09+098.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Looking for eggs. We went to an egg hunt and picnic at our friends' house, but we missed the egg hunt. Our kids handled it VERY well considering. I have no pics, but they did get to play with real rabbits.  This hunt was in our back yard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329414254889749442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SfXiB0ObS8I/AAAAAAAAANw/TYtvOHT5CSE/s320/Spring+09+099.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div&gt;I'm loving this shirt on Bryant. SueSue got it for B for Easter, and it looks really good on him.  Too bad he isn't showing us his teeth since this is pre-broken tooth!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329414659685807362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SfXiZYNU9QI/AAAAAAAAAN4/cCNVxi27img/s320/Spring+09+101.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If ever there was a little girl who would have loved having a sister, it is Ann Bennett - especially if her mother would have been one who dressed the girls alike! AB LOVES to be a twin with Macie.  It's not the best picture, but SueSue got the girls these dresses, and fortunately it warmed up enough that they could wear them together.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We hope you had a fabulous Easter celebrating Jesus' resurrection!  Last year, we were in Georgia and Mom was still in the hospital.  My dear friend Katrina came and led a celebration in singing hymns.  We visited with Mom in the hospital, but it was hard to balance our time between the kids and the hospital.  Sandy and I struggled with what to cook.  We were not used to being the planners of holiday meals.  We did better this year, but it was kind of strange not to be with Mom.  She and Randy were in GA, and we were in NC.  I'm so thankful we were all healthy and away from hospitals!  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's funny how this whole year has seemed like a year of firsts.  Mom's first birthday, first Christmas, Easter, etc., since the accident.  It is one of those defining moments in my memory.  I'm thankful that our family is not defined BY that moment.  Easter especially reminds me of how much God loves each of us and desires to be in relationship with us.  I think back a year ago and remember just how much pain we were in at the time, but I also see how so many of you prayed for us, walked with us, loved us and showed us God's love.  I remember that pain but with the pain, I also remember just how much I felt God's arms around us.  I pray that each of you feels surrounded by God's loving arms!  Happy Easter all year long!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&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/2050972342042495340-4414042741501412648?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/4414042741501412648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=4414042741501412648' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/4414042741501412648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/4414042741501412648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2009/04/happy-easter.html' title='Happy Easter!'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SfXeouvq1aI/AAAAAAAAANI/iOc9fg1uLxc/s72-c/Spring+09+120.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-6865716754461356180</id><published>2009-04-24T11:39:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-24T12:09:40.248-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Doctors, Dentists and Drama</title><content type='html'>What a crazy week we have had in our house!  Monday morning I quit working around the house and went to take a shower and get ready for my an appointment with the eye doctor.  I have been wearing my monthly disposable contacts for about 3 months now, so it if very over due!   I get in the car to go to the doctor and notice I have a message on the phone.  I check it and find out that AB's teacher had called saying she has had her head down most of the morning complaining of a headache.  I call Carey and ask him to go check on her and take her some motrin.  While I am on the phone with him, her teacher calls back to say she's thrown up.  Remember, I'm in the car on the way to MY appointment.  Carey had an appraisal scheduled, so I had to go get her and miss my appointment.  She spent the rest of the day at home just fine.  She even played in the sprinkler that afternoon with B and our neighbor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tuesday afternoon, I take the kids to go buy B's new bat at a local batting cage.  It was packed, and we knew some of the kids there.  B was sitting on the ground watching a kid he knows hit the ball.  AB was talking to his sister and I was chatting with the mom.  Tanner, the neighbor who was with us, was hitting in the cage next to us.  We were 1/2 a second away from leaving when the boy opened the gate to the cage and knocked Bryant in the mouth.  I did not see it and didn't even realize he was hurt at first.  Somehow, we realize he's upset -- I think the guy who owns the place noticed it first, and he says he chipped his tooth.  He is folded up, in tears with his head down.   My first thought was no big deal, a little chip.  Well, it was a BIG chip, and I even recovered a baby tooth size piece of chip in front of him.  This was 20 minutes before he was supposed to be at the ball park for his game that night.  We left as quickly as we could.  Bryant was TRAUMATIZED and mad as "H, E, double hockey sticks" to quote B.  He says the boy saw him, told him to move and pushed the gate open hard when he didn't move quickly enough.  The boy says he didn't see B.  The truth is not such a big deal to me, but B's anger is a very real issue for me.  Anyway, I convince Carey to wait on him at home, get him home, crying all the way.  Our neighbor was trying very hard to help him -- it's OK, you don't look like a "retard" (so very inappropriate, but an 11 year old's comforting words), "dude, you shouldn't be embarrassed, he should be," "I chipped my tooth,"  etc.  Bryant was having none of it.  All he could think about was everyone seeing him looking ridiculous.  I think the best thing that happened is that he had a game that night.  He didn't play GREAT that night, but he was OK and the team won.  So, it was a good distraction.  The boy who bumped him is a child we know from the park, and Bryant was in no way discreet about what happened.  He was ticked off and let everyone know it.  Fortunately that child did not have a game the same night, and we probably won't see him for a while.  I'm hoping B calms down by the time he sees him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, Wednesday Bryant did not go to school, and we spent 2 hours in the dentist's office.  (OH, thanks to Dr. Browning, our friend who is an orthodontist for letting B stop by after the game to hear from an official doctor that he was going to make it!  He really needed it.)  They put a resin or plastic crown on the tooth, and it looks really good.  Dr. Skip didn't get it quite as long as the other tooth, so he'll probably end up having a little more work on it, but overall it looks great.  He felt much better and went back to school.  He has to be careful of his teeth now.  He can't really use that tooth to bite into things because it will come off if not careful.  In fact, we've been told it will come off at some point, and we will get to know the dentist quite well in our visits to repair the tooth.  After braces and all his perm. teeth are in, there will be another more permanent fix.  I was so thankful that we had the funds to fix this.  We don't have dental insurance, and it made me so appreciative that we were able to still do this for Bryant.  It would have really messed him up if we had not been able to fix it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we left the dentist's office I said to B that I didn't even have a picture of the break!  If the thing falls off, it will not look quite the same as it did that day because they had to file down the tooth to get the stuff to stick.  (Without pain mx, I might add!)  I didn't want to push it because he was so upset, but I asked out of curiosity if he would have let me.  At first he said no, but then he said yes.  I should have posted it here with a note that said who did this to him and how horrible he is.  But, alas, I have no photo.  Just a memory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, Thursday afternoon Bryant had a previously scheduled allergist appointment.  He had new testing done, and his allergies have changed some.  I don't understand that at ALL.  But, they are still in the same classes of allergies.  He is going to start shots in 2 weeks -- his choice.  But, that was another hour and 45 minutes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, on top of this, I have a doctor's appointment this afternoon (a reschedule from weeks ago when the doctor had to cancel) and my eye appointment was rescheduled for Monday.  Hopefully that is the end of the doctor's offices for a while!  We've had enough!  And, if you're still reading, I'm amazed.  It was about as exhausting to type as it was to live.  Happy Friday!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-6865716754461356180?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/6865716754461356180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=6865716754461356180' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/6865716754461356180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/6865716754461356180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2009/04/doctors-dentists-and-drama.html' title='Doctors, Dentists and Drama'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-5328249114937014854</id><published>2009-04-03T18:10:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-03T18:27:17.066-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Tagged</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;OK, I was not really tagged, but I was reading Kristie at Not Quite What I Had Planned, and she was tagged. She was told to post the 6th picture in the 6th folder of her pictures. It made me go take a look. This is what I found. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320591819540706978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SdaKEfaStqI/AAAAAAAAANA/lCr1lpvwwQM/s320/Birthday,+PP,+RR+006.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;This is Bryant and his good friend Brad.  They've been in school together since they started the toddler progam in the fall of 2000.  This picture was in February 2007 at their school -- before uniforms were required.  They look so young.  They were in 2nd grade and look so much younger!  As his mom, this was not my favorite year, but if you ask Bryant, this was the best year ever because it was the only year in elementary school that he and Brad were in the same class.  In fact, that year his class had a lot of his friends in it.  I really hope they get to be in 5th grade together.  It might have been hard for B to behave with his buddy in the class earlier, but now, it would absolutely make the end of his elementary school experience fabulous.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So, what's the 6th picture in your 6th folder?  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-5328249114937014854?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/5328249114937014854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=5328249114937014854' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/5328249114937014854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/5328249114937014854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2009/04/tagged.html' title='Tagged'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SdaKEfaStqI/AAAAAAAAANA/lCr1lpvwwQM/s72-c/Birthday,+PP,+RR+006.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-2339825866127859046</id><published>2009-03-30T22:37:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-30T22:45:14.533-04:00</updated><title type='text'>World Champion?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SdGCFGFiJTI/AAAAAAAAAM4/84tBYq9SK2k/s1600-h/shotput.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319175658946045234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 250px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 274px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SdGCFGFiJTI/AAAAAAAAAM4/84tBYq9SK2k/s320/shotput.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Congratulations Pop! My father-in-law won the USA Masters Track and Field Championships in the shotput. He now qualifies for the World Championships in Finland if he decides to go. He really wants to see what the Germans can do, but I just don't know if he could ever sit still long enough to fly to Finland. He says he will go if Bryant will go. Bryant says he's ready -- especially if he can skip school. We'll see what happens, but he keeps improving and training. I think he should go.  Here is a link to an article about him.  &lt;a href="http://www.starnewsonline.com/article/20090328/ARTICLES/903289946"&gt;http://www.starnewsonline.com/article/20090328/ARTICLES/903289946&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/2050972342042495340-2339825866127859046?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/2339825866127859046/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=2339825866127859046' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/2339825866127859046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/2339825866127859046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2009/03/world-champion.html' title='World Champion?'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SdGCFGFiJTI/AAAAAAAAAM4/84tBYq9SK2k/s72-c/shotput.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-1679217256567479508</id><published>2009-03-27T22:15:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-27T22:31:00.076-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Baseball, Soccer or Not?</title><content type='html'>When I left my house this morning to go visit the new babies in our church (a WONDERFUL blessing!), my weekend looked something like this.  Carey and Bryant were going to leave Saturday to go to a baseball tournament.  Ann Bennett and I were staying in town for 2 soccer games, singing and playing chimes in church on Sunday.  I was planning to pick up a friend for AB while I got some work done around here. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NOW, the baseball tournament is cancelled due to the predicted rain and storms, and we have to get up at 7am to find out if AB's 9:00 game is cancelled.  You have to love outdoor sports!  I wish they would just make a decision now.  I'd love to sleep late tomorrow.  If we have to get up to see if the game is cancelled, I sure hope they play the game.  Rescheduled games are a pain!  Carey is really happy that Sandy, Jeff and clan are coming to visit next week.  Otherwise, I think I'd be really pushing him to work on removing the tile in the hall bathroom.  Oh well.  Maybe I can at least get some things in order around here.  Happy weekend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-1679217256567479508?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/1679217256567479508/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=1679217256567479508' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/1679217256567479508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/1679217256567479508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2009/03/baseball-soccer-or-not.html' title='Baseball, Soccer or Not?'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-7205571375747237625</id><published>2009-03-26T14:08:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-26T18:14:09.323-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Excuses, excuses</title><content type='html'>We are still here!  I'd like to say that I haven't written in a while because of our computer issues.  And, that is partially true, but I've also been slack - or busy with life.  Soccer started for Ann Bennett, and both recreation and travel baseball have started for Bryant.  Add in work, school, church, choir and homework, and you pretty much get what we have been up to these days. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom, Sandy and Mitzi met me in Myrtle Beach for our church's annual women's retreat in Myrtle Beach the last weekend in February.  What a blessing.  Last year Mom, Sandy and I were set to go to the retreat, but we were obviously not able to make it.  At the time, I didn't think we would ever be able to go to one together.  Mom was still inpatient and was very slowly responding to any rehab when the retreat occurred.  What a difference a year, lots of prayer and God's healing can make!  I'm so thankful we were able to be together and thankful Mitzi was able to come this year.  It was a really good weekend. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mitzi and Sandy drove home on Sunday in a blizzard (see Sandy's blog for pics).  Thankfully we had already arranged for Mom to stay with us the following week.  Having her here was such a treat.  It made me realize why I get so little done in a week.  Her pace is amazing, but it is not quite what it used to be or our pace.  Thinking about activities through her perspective made me realize that although I have tried to drop things from my life, I still have a lot of obligations.  It was really nice to get that perspective, but mostly it was really good just to have &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Sue Sue&lt;/span&gt; visit.  She impressed so many people here in NC.  She even volunteered in Ann Bennett's 1st grade classroom.  Once my computer is repaired I'll try to add some pictures.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-7205571375747237625?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/7205571375747237625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=7205571375747237625' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/7205571375747237625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/7205571375747237625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2009/03/excuses-excuses.html' title='Excuses, excuses'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-3215539730757025228</id><published>2009-02-01T16:08:00.010-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-01T16:46:56.583-05:00</updated><title type='text'>More December Fun</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SYYU3Or-scI/AAAAAAAAAMg/CFMk5mmJE94/s1600-h/December+08+078.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297944950715888066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SYYU3Or-scI/AAAAAAAAAMg/CFMk5mmJE94/s320/December+08+078.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;When we moved into our house 8 Christmases ago, I knew right where the Christmas tree would go - in front of a window in the living room, and it has been there every year. But, we always miss having the lights in our family room.  However, I did not have the energy to put lights on 2 trees. (One day I'll blog about my light journey, but not today.) Anyway, along came &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;pre-lit&lt;/span&gt; Christmas trees. If there was ever something to tempt me away from live trees, that is it! This year, I found a skinny, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;pre-lit&lt;/span&gt;, cheap tree for our family room. We have so many homemade ornaments that are perfect in the family room. I still had a few on the "real" tree, but most of the homemade ones were in the family room with us this year. You can sort of see the tree behind the kids. This is a great picture because it captures a spontaneous moment of sibling love! The kids argue so much, this is a great reminder that at times they can get along! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Here's a picture of the tree in the living room with a flash. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297946631894497826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SYYWZFkMeiI/AAAAAAAAAMo/2pArFknL6V8/s320/December+08+079.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Here's one without a flash. Which do you like better?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297946942171609042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SYYWrJcBd9I/AAAAAAAAAMw/7g3rBbO1BVY/s320/December+08+080.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Miss Preston is our super hero 1st grade teacher. Bryant had her, and we fell in love with her. She has babysat for us each summer, puppy and kitty sat for us and in general become a treasured part of our family. We are so happy that Ann Bennett is able to have her as a teacher this year. We have certainly had our issues with the kids' school, but 1st grade with Miss Preston is a respite in the storm! One of the things she does is called Christmas Around the World. She divides the students into 4 groups. Each group presents information about that country to the "audience." She gives each parent a passport, so after the presentation, you visit each country to have your passport stamped. She ends the day with a party with foods from as many countries as possible. That part falls to parents, but she coordinates it. One of the great things about both children having the same teacher is you end up with the same artwork -- like the Christmas trees on the board behind AB. Christmas trees with lights started in Germany.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297940772288007090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SYYREA1JC7I/AAAAAAAAAL4/0XY0bJUbk8s/s320/December+08+085.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297941165117464898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SYYRa4O-4UI/AAAAAAAAAMA/BIaQEb5ZjY8/s320/December+08+088.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Frances, AB and Preston at the party.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;Halo Hoops basketball started this month as well. Halo Hoops is similar to Upward, but it was started locally. It is an amazing program, and I love basketball season. It is the only season that we have 1 practice and 1 game a week. It is not controlled by weather, so there are no changes. It is completely predictable, and we have a great coach. He somehow manages to coach, teach and motivate without ever raising his voice. I wish I could be more like him! Bryant is going to kill me for posting this picture, but I love it. He often hangs his stuff up the night before a game. It's kind of like his locker. Plus, I love pictures of sleeping children. It is a gift of God to see children sleep. They look so angelic and make it easy to forget the conflicts from earlier in the day!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297941633088966882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SYYR2HkFUOI/AAAAAAAAAMI/SKpk2WoOC1s/s320/December+08+091.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;We were supposed to leave for Atlanta on Saturday before Christmas right after Bryant's basketball game. But, we made the decision to wait until Sunday morning, and it was one of those decisions that relieved the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Sasser&lt;/span&gt; stress ten fold! It meant we had some sleep that week, and I was not furious with everyone when we left. Plus, it meant Ann Bennett and I were able to go see Annie with her friends. Thank you Wendy and Anne Cathryn. AB loved it. All the girls did. They were fascinated. This picture was at intermission. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297942964419621154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SYYTDnKC8SI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/b-ybhGMgZKo/s320/December+08+093.jpg" border="0" /&gt;AB, Frances, Anne Cathryn, Lydia and Ella -- all looking a little too grown up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297943904858669282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SYYT6WkMAOI/AAAAAAAAAMY/CrTFgUuo0fs/s320/December+08+094.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;AB and Annie. AB wanted to meet her so badly, but when we got to her, she was so nervous she couldn't speak. Apparently Annie just moved her from Los Angeles. She was really good. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-3215539730757025228?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/3215539730757025228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=3215539730757025228' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/3215539730757025228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/3215539730757025228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2009/02/more-december-fun.html' title='More December Fun'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SYYU3Or-scI/AAAAAAAAAMg/CFMk5mmJE94/s72-c/December+08+078.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-9022950223507110356</id><published>2009-02-01T15:27:00.013-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-01T16:06:13.986-05:00</updated><title type='text'>We Even Saw Santa</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SYYNjL5baUI/AAAAAAAAALw/8QxF-aDQG_M/s1600-h/December+08+043.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297936909788211522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SYYNjL5baUI/AAAAAAAAALw/8QxF-aDQG_M/s320/December+08+043.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SYYI2OW6yrI/AAAAAAAAAKg/oLJI46pezf0/s1600-h/December+08+047.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297931739308149426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SYYI2OW6yrI/AAAAAAAAAKg/oLJI46pezf0/s320/December+08+047.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;div&gt;Every year except last year and this year, we have gone to breakfast with Santa at the club. But, for the past 2 years we have missed it because of baseball. This year, we went to see Enchanted &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Airlie&lt;/span&gt; with Pop and Nana. (We missed Nancy and Bro and the cousins but hope they can make it next year.) &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Airlie&lt;/span&gt; Gardens is a public garden they decorate every year for Christmas, and let me tell you, Santa is wonderful! The little boy before us asked Santa for a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;wii&lt;/span&gt;, and he kept telling him the bathroom was just outside the tent. We were all chuckling. When our kids got to Santa, I wasn't sure how it would go. Let's just say that Santa knew exactly what to say to my kids. He told them to stop fighting with each other and to stop whining. Let me just say that those 2 behaviors had been in full swing in our house, so he couldn't have encouraged our parenting any more! Ann Bennett was so surprised that she would hardly talk to him. It was a great memory. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297932086857237618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SYYJKdFFBHI/AAAAAAAAAKo/WgaoXpAJE8E/s320/December+08+050.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;They also have really cool model train scenes set up. They apparently have one of the largest outdoor tracks in the US or maybe the southeast, I don't remember. But, all of us enjoyed watching them. There is something very calming about watching the trains. I had a hard time getting a good picture of the tracks, but I thought the blurry one below was kind of cool. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297933049872442242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SYYKCgly44I/AAAAAAAAAKw/W6R-ZhU4zJk/s320/December+08+040.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297933472796274018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SYYKbIGsbWI/AAAAAAAAAK4/BksWRxk26tw/s320/December+08+068.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297935050577908866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SYYL29zJlII/AAAAAAAAALI/RiunWbsiobs/s320/December+08+072.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ann Bennett LOVES to have her picture taken beside any statue, and it seems that lights are perfect for pictures as well. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297935419769057106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SYYMMdJLb1I/AAAAAAAAALQ/k2RPrrbzleY/s320/December+08+057.jpg" border="0" /&gt; This is the only picture I have with Nana and Pop. Can you believe how bad it is? I need a new camera! But, I think it is kind of down the list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297935713345566466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SYYMdizRdwI/AAAAAAAAALY/uTuX0X_WQmI/s320/December+08+060.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Bryant took this picture. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297936147166869170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SYYM2y6VNrI/AAAAAAAAALg/FhVg7KOcduM/s320/December+08+075.jpg" border="0" /&gt; Finally, I just think this is a cool picture. I hope you enjoy your Christmas lights in February. &lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297936530394241602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SYYNNGi22kI/AAAAAAAAALo/Gd1qrmALeUU/s320/December+08+054.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&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/2050972342042495340-9022950223507110356?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/9022950223507110356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=9022950223507110356' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/9022950223507110356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/9022950223507110356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2009/02/we-even-saw-santa.html' title='We Even Saw Santa'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SYYNjL5baUI/AAAAAAAAALw/8QxF-aDQG_M/s72-c/December+08+043.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-1251894990710161453</id><published>2009-02-01T15:08:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-01T16:47:57.242-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas Did Happen</title><content type='html'>I know it is now February, so a Christmas post is too old. But, oh well. That seems to be the norm around here. We had a really good Christmas. After the year we had, it made Christmas all the more special. We started December with a baseball tournament in Myrtle Beach -- on my birthday of course. Tournaments are common in our house, but the MB one is always fun because we stay at a great place (&lt;a href="http://www.dunesvillage.com/"&gt;http://www.dunesvillage.com/&lt;/a&gt;) that is cheap in December and has an amazing indoor water park. The kids have fun playing with their friends, and we never even have to put on our bathing suits. This year it was special because Mom and Randy were able to meet us there! Mom has wanted to come watch Bryant play since we played in MB in July. She was not ready for the trip at that time, and she was very disappointed. Some of Randy's family live in MB, so he had a chance to visit with them. We all watched some VERY cold baseball, and they came back home with us for a few days before heading back to their home. I managed to forget to take a single picture at the ballpark. I guess it feels like I've taken a gazillion pictures at baseball parks and didn't consider I might want a picture of Mom at the game. I did get a picture of them at our house. Mom kept me running all week, but we got a lot of shopping done. Mom also managed to help Bryant with his science fair project which involved making homemade ice cream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297927750307861298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SYYFOCLI0zI/AAAAAAAAAKY/bCIMAE7YYIE/s320/December+08+028.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-1251894990710161453?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/1251894990710161453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=1251894990710161453' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/1251894990710161453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/1251894990710161453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2009/02/christmas-did-happen.html' title='Christmas Did Happen'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SYYFOCLI0zI/AAAAAAAAAKY/bCIMAE7YYIE/s72-c/December+08+028.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-465500610095770734</id><published>2009-01-31T15:31:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-31T15:36:44.332-05:00</updated><title type='text'>BC, AD, ITM</title><content type='html'>Bryant and I were talking about the Bible this morning, so the discussion of BC and AD came up again. I asked if he knew what each meant, and he said "Before Christ" and "After Death." I told him to think about that for a minute. If that was true, what would the time while Jesus was alive be called? He thought a minute and said, "ITM." It was my turn to say, huh, what? He said, "In The Middle." I thought it was funny and decided to share.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just as a reminder, BC is Before Christ, but AD is anno domini, or in the year of our Lord. So, if you didn't know before, now you are ready the next time this comes up in a trivia game.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-465500610095770734?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/465500610095770734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=465500610095770734' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/465500610095770734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/465500610095770734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2009/01/bc-ad-itm.html' title='BC, AD, ITM'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-5012985850220986796</id><published>2009-01-10T14:49:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T15:41:38.087-05:00</updated><title type='text'>B's B-day, finally!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, just so I have some info about what we actually did for Bryant's 10th birthday, here is a very old update. Bryant wanted to go to Hiro's for his birthday this year. He wanted to do this before, but I would not let him go if he was going to eat chicken nuggets! I guess being 10 makes it easier to try new things. We had a great chef -- I guess that's what you call them? Glenn and Mandy (Pop and Nana) went with us, and I think they enjoyed the new experience as well.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289756966610125298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SWj9707xwfI/AAAAAAAAAJI/OGdW-p55_U4/s320/Fall+08a+002.jpg" border="0" /&gt; Not the best pic of B, but the best of the 3.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289757391131817810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SWj-UiZot1I/AAAAAAAAAJQ/ILCmKF7_iPY/s320/Fall+08a+022.jpg" border="0" /&gt; Lots of excitement!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289757736789146834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SWj-oqEw_NI/AAAAAAAAAJY/2dr3itmRZ6E/s320/Fall+08a+025.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;We actually went out to eat on the 18th because he had baseball practice on the 19th. But, that meant on the 19th, Carey and B had the joy of putting together the pull up bar Pop and Nana gave B for his b-day. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289758933951087586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SWj_uV2ag-I/AAAAAAAAAJg/DUHsszDl2W8/s320/December+08+030.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289759825596721474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SWkAiPfTKUI/AAAAAAAAAJo/ovaV-nCv12E/s320/December+08+034.jpg" border="0" /&gt;He needed a little help getting up to the bar, so Carey got a work out as well!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289760123220994578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SWkAzkOdKhI/AAAAAAAAAJw/WS0EFv9KXbs/s320/December+08+032.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Success! Now if he can actually get strong enough to do a pull up, it will be really successful. So far, only our tree climbing neighbor has been able to actually do a pull up, and about 10 of B's friends have tried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;Bryant decided to have a few friends spend the night this year for his party. We only had 3 of the spend the night, but 4 other guys came over to eat, play and go to the high school football game with us. Somehow I missed pictures of the running around playing football and basketball in the front yard, but trust me, at least with Bryant's friends, when a group get to our house, some kind of ball game happens.  Special thanks to Putt for hanging out with us and helping to manage everyone.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289762338658528626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SWkC0hX7LXI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/PTZtoOCdiuQ/s320/December+08+014.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;For some reason, I love this picture.  It just seems so real to me.  A group of 9 and 10 year old boys sitting around playing x-box - even in the middle of the present opening.  Birthday parties get so much simpler when kids get older.  There was hardly any fighting over whose turn it was to play.  They argued a little over whether calls were fair outside, but don't grown men do that about calls made by professionals?  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289762674750445282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SWkDIFae1uI/AAAAAAAAAKA/mqtTWJWjOn0/s320/December+08+018.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;It was REALLY cold at the game!  I was very happy I had blankets.  The guys sat like this for a while.  Most of the guys at the party will not go to the school we were watching, so 2 of them started cheering for the other team.  It worked out fine because we were on the visitor's side.  Carey likes to sit on that side because it is not as crazy and there is an area behind the stands where the boys can play football.  I know, isn't that what they were doing in the front yard before we payed to go to the game?  At least they watched part of the game.  Part way through the 3rd quarter, I began to suspect that Bryant was sick.  He came and sat down beside me with a blanket while his friends hung out below us cheering.  Sure enough, when we got home, he had a fever.  What do you do when the birthday boy comes down with a fever in the middle of his spend-the-night party?  He's already exposed everyone there by that time!  So, I did what I could.  I gave him advil, made him sleep on the couch as far away from his friends as I could, and I told everyone in the morning.  What would you do?  No one got sick thankfully!  Oh, I forgot to mention that Tuesday before his b-day, he'd complained of a sore throat and had a bit of a fever.  I let him stay home and took him to the doctor to make sure it was not strep.  I had tried to make sure he was healthy for the party.  Anyway, I'm not posting sleep over pictures since I'm just not sure about that one.  They boys stayed up until 2:00 ish when I was the party pooper and went to sit with them until they fell asleep.  It took about 5 minutes.  As soon as they quit talking, they were asleep.  They slept until 7:45 when AB was dropped off from her sleepover.  Overall, it went well.  I leave you with the birthday picture.  It turned out pretty good for my camera.  &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289763279650496546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SWkDrS15ICI/AAAAAAAAAKI/xeSmwZQMuiw/s320/December+08+011.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-5012985850220986796?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/5012985850220986796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=5012985850220986796' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/5012985850220986796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/5012985850220986796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2009/01/b.html' title='B&apos;s B-day, finally!'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SWj9707xwfI/AAAAAAAAAJI/OGdW-p55_U4/s72-c/Fall+08a+002.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-2015258605194932999</id><published>2008-12-16T00:08:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-16T00:29:20.883-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas Concert</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SUc8VS4KQHI/AAAAAAAAAJA/GXxgFoBwfbM/s1600-h/December+08+002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280255424657506418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SUc8VS4KQHI/AAAAAAAAAJA/GXxgFoBwfbM/s320/December+08+002.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just so you don't think I have totally forgotten that it is Advent and we are preparing for Christmas, I thought I'd post proof that we have been celebrating. Ann Bennett was old enough to be in the Christmas concert, play, cantata, whatever, for the first time this year. She surprised me and tried out for a speaking part. She had a part, and we had a lot of rehearsals! This is the video of the dress rehearsal. We were proud of her for learning her lines. All of the narrator angels had cards with their lines just in case, but she never needed it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-39fa77a18cc157f6" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v22.nonxt1.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D39fa77a18cc157f6%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331252978%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D5E89C0DA0059690A224145B694196B81264017F3.38E9F76D8A44C2F1A5B372E0BEEB344FAF45AA6%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D39fa77a18cc157f6%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DwHXLO4-9zuMYvbfS4BBkvQdeR0c&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v22.nonxt1.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D39fa77a18cc157f6%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331252978%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D5E89C0DA0059690A224145B694196B81264017F3.38E9F76D8A44C2F1A5B372E0BEEB344FAF45AA6%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D39fa77a18cc157f6%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DwHXLO4-9zuMYvbfS4BBkvQdeR0c&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I don't really know if Ann Bennett is up for many of these plays though. She was pretty tired and scattered by the end of the 2 hour rehearsals! The next video is of Ann Bennett (and Bryant's I think) favorite song. It's just part of it, because, really, do you want to see the whole thing? Saturday night during the performance, the boy in the back on the left really got rockin' and had everyone laughing. His parents weren't amused and talked to him about it, so it was missing Sunday morning. But, the Sassers felt Thomas's dance moves enhanced the show. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-125c56e213117944" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v7.nonxt1.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D125c56e213117944%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331252978%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D6C67C724C04F51E8313F72325F1EC04A7671CBA2.D17FE04947AA9F0431B465EF2F4243E2BCB83FF%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D125c56e213117944%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D1Zs0DBejNdoqlG_d-X-TFqyiJBI&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v7.nonxt1.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D125c56e213117944%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331252978%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D6C67C724C04F51E8313F72325F1EC04A7671CBA2.D17FE04947AA9F0431B465EF2F4243E2BCB83FF%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D125c56e213117944%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D1Zs0DBejNdoqlG_d-X-TFqyiJBI&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Bryant did not participate in the play or in choir for that matter. I hate it, but it's just not his thing. Plus, he had baseball and other conflicts. However, he did make it to a lot of the rehearsals shuttling AB back and forth. He knew most of the lines in the play and all of the songs. I wish I could have convinced him, but it was certainly NOT a battle I was willing to fight. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280254617117558706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SUc7mSjoh7I/AAAAAAAAAI4/g0lOuU_aus0/s320/December+08+003.jpg" border="0" /&gt; Ann Bennett's friend from school and church, Preston. Believe it or not, they are both 1st graders. I think AB had on her clogs that morning which give her some extra height, but st&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;We hope you are having a fabulous Christmas, and in the words of the Christmas play, I hope that the child has found ways to rock your world. (Jesus, in case that isn't clear ;0)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-2015258605194932999?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=125c56e213117944&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=39fa77a18cc157f6&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/2015258605194932999/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=2015258605194932999' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/2015258605194932999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/2015258605194932999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2008/12/christmas-concert.html' title='Christmas Concert'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SUc8VS4KQHI/AAAAAAAAAJA/GXxgFoBwfbM/s72-c/December+08+002.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-7871014297804303011</id><published>2008-12-13T15:08:00.012-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-13T15:36:48.018-05:00</updated><title type='text'>American Girl Doll Cafe</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SUQXQDT_jWI/AAAAAAAAAIA/W_1fPU2q7cE/s1600-h/Fall+08a+001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279370227719572834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SUQXQDT_jWI/AAAAAAAAAIA/W_1fPU2q7cE/s320/Fall+08a+001.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Ann Bennett has been into American Girl Dolls for a couple of years now. Last year they opened a store and cafe in Atlanta. My mom saw a show on the dolls and how they represent historical periods, so she too fell in love with the idea. She bought AB Molly last year. Molly is from the year Mom was born. We also went to the store after Christmas last year. But, let me just say, stay away from the place around Christmas! It was a mad house, and by the time we left the store, there was a line to even be allowed in the store. We could not get near the cafe. But while we were there last year, Mom told Ann Bennett that when she came back to GA we would plan in advance to have lunch at the cafe. A few days later, Mom was in the wreck, and we have certainly not been able to go to AGD for lunch. But, this time, we were able to go. Mom, Sandy, Macie, Ann Bennett and I had a girls' lunch at the cafe. Oh yeah, Felicity went with us too. Felicity was the only doll with a tea dress, so she was the only one who could go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279371967398942290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SUQY1UH4FlI/AAAAAAAAAII/8mZ60lQAfnU/s320/Fall+08a+003.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Ann Bennett and Felicity (in her own high chair, notice) reading the menu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279372710648717394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SUQZgk8boFI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/19vPZYJCJVk/s320/Fall+08a+007.jpg" border="0" /&gt; Macie and the doll they loaned her for lunch -- they are very prepared there! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279373274219941330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SUQaBYaSDdI/AAAAAAAAAIY/P7-8OqevISU/s320/Fall+08a+017.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt; Ann Bennett was very impressed by the food.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279375241504039970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SUQbz5HXJCI/AAAAAAAAAIw/mrrP_-IZhMg/s320/Fall+08a+026.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Macie was very impressed with her milk shake. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279373871444649106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SUQakJPv5JI/AAAAAAAAAIo/KQIUlqa6gKk/s320/Fall+08a+035.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;As was Ann Bennett.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;It was a really nice treat. And somehow we managed to leave the store only purchasing a paperback book. I guess preparing before we enter the store helps. I think it also helps that the store is such a treat just to visit. It is such a girlie place. I'm so thankful Mom was able to take Ann Bennett. I hope Sandy has a picture with Mom in it. Amazing the things we forget to do!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-7871014297804303011?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/7871014297804303011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=7871014297804303011' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/7871014297804303011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/7871014297804303011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2008/12/american-girl-doll-cafe.html' title='American Girl Doll Cafe'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SUQXQDT_jWI/AAAAAAAAAIA/W_1fPU2q7cE/s72-c/Fall+08a+001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-6745842761896564946</id><published>2008-12-13T14:32:00.009-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-13T15:07:14.333-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Catch Up - Sue Sue's birthday weekend</title><content type='html'>OK, I seem to have lost a whole month of updates! By lost, I mean that I never did them, not that they are lost in computer land somewhere. I'm mostly doing this for my long term memory. Anyway, we have been busy. We went to GA to celebrate Mom's birthday 11-8.  It was obviously a big deal since it feels like the birthday that she almost did not have. In fact, all of the approaching holidays feel a little like we are living on borrowed time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279362314168272338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SUQQDbCVhdI/AAAAAAAAAHo/sCSt2sFNFSM/s320/Fall+08a+070.jpg" border="0" /&gt; Sandy, me, Macie, Ann Bennett, Mom at her birthday dinner. It's not the best picture, but it was the best one I had. I love Macie's hand. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279363362592212706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SUQRAcuFRuI/AAAAAAAAAHw/oYXSTbSnt20/s320/Fall+08a+061.jpg" border="0" /&gt; I love this picture for some reason. AB and Mom both look so happy. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As is typical when we go to GA, Uncle Jeff gets to (or has to) play a lot of football. Carson and Ann Bennett join them on occasion, but Bryant is very persistent about getting Jeff to play! I think throwing to B is a lot easier on the knees than tackling, defending or whatever they do when they run around in the yard!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-fd09998717b98581" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v2.nonxt3.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dfd09998717b98581%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331252978%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D4AC9ED3CB8978642267037E2490760205189FA9C.17664FA0BB6C31EA96A7254B63DDD3E802CF970F%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dfd09998717b98581%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DafAlALiqNZ1MWjdE0xA5o-pqY1w&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v2.nonxt3.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dfd09998717b98581%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331252978%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D4AC9ED3CB8978642267037E2490760205189FA9C.17664FA0BB6C31EA96A7254B63DDD3E802CF970F%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dfd09998717b98581%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DafAlALiqNZ1MWjdE0xA5o-pqY1w&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279366131468639458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SUQThnlqnOI/AAAAAAAAAH4/inSLRJqzPGU/s320/Fall+08a+010.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;I thought this was a great picture of the guys. Bryant was lucky enough to be the first grandchild, so he had a lot of time to develop a great relationship with Jeff and Sandy before they had children of their own. He is always happy to go visit. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-435397585fc7469e" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v12.nonxt4.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D435397585fc7469e%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331252978%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D4AD4ECF3A2F0AFCBFE355B8449217ACB8E9F2E91.2EC5F799F748852B26DAB3E08A16B9D17DD88C6%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D435397585fc7469e%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DmlQVeAjX1Ee8-sAsvdpCtkhKHJ4&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v12.nonxt4.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D435397585fc7469e%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331252978%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D4AD4ECF3A2F0AFCBFE355B8449217ACB8E9F2E91.2EC5F799F748852B26DAB3E08A16B9D17DD88C6%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D435397585fc7469e%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DmlQVeAjX1Ee8-sAsvdpCtkhKHJ4&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;One of the things that amazes me about Ann Bennett and Macie is that they just do their thing regardless of what is going on around them. Notice they are playing ring around the roses in the middle of the football field. I think only the younger siblings of boys have this trait. Ann Bennett has such fun with both Carson and Macie. However, for some reason I only have pictures of her with Macie. Next time I'm going to have to be intentional about pics with Carson!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Hope your birthday was happy Mom, and I hope we didn't wear you out!  Love ya.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-6745842761896564946?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=435397585fc7469e&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=fd09998717b98581&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/6745842761896564946/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=6745842761896564946' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/6745842761896564946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/6745842761896564946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2008/12/catch-up-sue-sues-birthday-weekend.html' title='Catch Up - Sue Sue&apos;s birthday weekend'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SUQQDbCVhdI/AAAAAAAAAHo/sCSt2sFNFSM/s72-c/Fall+08a+070.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-1257442853703638818</id><published>2008-12-04T00:22:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-04T00:32:54.424-05:00</updated><title type='text'>So She IS Listening!</title><content type='html'>Ann Bennett came home from school today not wearing the new headband she had on this morning.  When I asked her where it was, she said it was in her backpack.  AB let a little girl next to her "look" at it.  Well, she put it on and then passed it to another little girl who also put it on her head.  Ann Bennett remembered that people can "have bugs in their hair" and they can spread to your hair, so she didn't put it back on all day.  I explained to her that she made a good choice, and she could always just tell the girls that she didn't like to share her hair "stuff."  I also told her that if someone in her class had lice that the school would have to tell us, so L and D did not have "bugs in their hair" and her headband was safe. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Last year she would find barrettes or other hair clips on the playground at school.  I told her about lice, but she just didn't get it.  We finally looked up what lice look like online and read about them.  This was after the first of the year.  To be honest, life got too crazy for me to even notice whether she was coming home with other people's hair clips.  But, apparently it must have made an impression because she was all freaked out today.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, tonight at dinner, I was asking the kids to tell us something that happened that was good about their day.  Ann Bennett said, "oh, oh, L and D don't have bugs in their hair."  Amazing what we can be thankful for if we open our eyes!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-1257442853703638818?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/1257442853703638818/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=1257442853703638818' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/1257442853703638818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/1257442853703638818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2008/12/so-she-is-listening.html' title='So She IS Listening!'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-4159156948900946437</id><published>2008-11-25T16:49:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-25T16:52:14.175-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Thankful For . . .</title><content type='html'>Ann Bennett's homework yesterday was to write at least 3 sentences about what she is thankful for.  They were going to post them outside the classroom.  Her list was:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am thankful for my family.&lt;br /&gt;I am thankful for food to eat.&lt;br /&gt;I am thankful for my dog and my cat.&lt;br /&gt;I am thankful I do not have to eat shrimp every day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SERIOUSLY!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-4159156948900946437?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/4159156948900946437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=4159156948900946437' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/4159156948900946437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/4159156948900946437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2008/11/im-thankful-for.html' title='I&apos;m Thankful For . . .'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-6746219712185734825</id><published>2008-11-19T15:31:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T16:19:11.057-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Double Digits</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SSSAHLFgdcI/AAAAAAAAAHg/VrIK2b13jCQ/s1600-h/Fall+08a+106.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270478324653651394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SSSAHLFgdcI/AAAAAAAAAHg/VrIK2b13jCQ/s320/Fall+08a+106.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I don't know how it happened, but my big guy is 10! Sometimes we drive each other crazy, but I'm so proud of him. He just had a fantastic report card. He's working hard to get physically stronger. He's memorizing his Bible verses for Sunday school and growing in faith.  And, in general, I see him making more sense of the world. He asks really interesting questions. He's also lucky to have some good friends, and he's learning what it means to be a good friend and team mate.  I'm so thankful to have a son in my life.  He's taught me a lot, and he is certainly my first born.  I hope he knows how much we love him. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270474526139305810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SSR8qEhHT1I/AAAAAAAAAHI/-TBW28xU8bs/s320/Fall+08a+085.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Anyway, today is his birthday, and it was also the annual Turkey Trot at school. About 10 boys and 10 girls from grades 3-5 qualify for the race. They run a mile and the best times are entered. Well, Bryant made it into the race. Today he ran a mile in about 7 minutes! (Carey says 7 min 6 sec to be precise.) To me, that is doggone fast! The winner ran it under 6 minutes. I was a bit worried about B this year because he was home sick yesterday. He finished about the middle of the pack. Being a non running kind of person, this is one of the most amazing things my child has done. I wonder what kind of a runner he would be if he did ANY training. I kept telling him and Tanner (our neighbor who was also in the race) to go practice, but neither one of them would listen to me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270476411387349266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SSR-XznRiRI/AAAAAAAAAHY/JG8eoehfCTM/s320/Fall+08a+086.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Mark, Garren (2nd place, 6 minute mile), Brad, Bryant&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270476061686628082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SSR-Dc4H_vI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/IGaeG6JwK24/s320/Fall+08a+094.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Finish line in sight!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;More birthday updates to come.  We're having our first spend the night birthday party this weekend, so pray for patience!  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-6746219712185734825?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/6746219712185734825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=6746219712185734825' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/6746219712185734825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/6746219712185734825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2008/11/double-digits.html' title='Double Digits'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SSSAHLFgdcI/AAAAAAAAAHg/VrIK2b13jCQ/s72-c/Fall+08a+106.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-3773969118246770428</id><published>2008-11-19T08:54:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T09:23:20.649-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dad and Carolyn Visit</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;OK, I just lost my first post on blogger. UGHH! Fortunately (one of Bryant's spelling words this week), I had just started. Anyway, I'm very behind with my blogging, but I'm determined to catch up. Dad and Carolyn visited the weekend before Halloween. As usual, Dad helped us get some things done around the house. Carey always feels like we abuse Dad when he comes here, but the man likes to have a project. This trip, he repaired a window, fixed the swing set, hung a coat rack in AB's room, fixed the chain on the chainsaw and helped cut down a tree, bush and part of another tree. Ann Bennett believes Grandpa can fix anything. When something breaks, AB very often says, "Maybe Grandpa can fix it." We are so thankful he is here to help us, and I'm especially thankful that I learned to at least try to do things on my own. I'm not the greatest, but I guess I learned a little from being Dad's reluctant assistant. Thanks Dad. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;We did manage to have a little fun. We went to the NC Aquarium at Fort Fisher. While it is not the Atlanta Aquarium, it's still a really good aquarium, and it's a lot easier to get into! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270367037494850482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SSQa5aHO87I/AAAAAAAAAGY/ZoGafHfYGus/s320/Fall+08+111.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;The snakes were really active and came right up to the glass. It must have been close to feeding time because I have never seen them this agitated. It was creepy and kind of cool at the same time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270367589095811234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SSQbZg_JqKI/AAAAAAAAAGg/MAixo_GfH0Q/s320/Fall+08+071.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The alligators were all swimming up close to the glass as well, except for this one napping beside the water. Well, his eye is open, so I guess he was just resting. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270368743623673410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SSQcct8CxkI/AAAAAAAAAGo/WQXRAuSVRIU/s320/Fall+08+074.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;The touch tank. AB's dislike of shrimp apparently extends to touching sea creatures as well. It took a lot of coaxing to get her to stick her hands in the tank. She never touched the horseshoe crabs, but she touched the starfish and some other creature with prickly spines, but I can't remember what it was. Bryant on the other hand was far enough in the water to get his shirt wet. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270369349315624546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SSQc_-UQfmI/AAAAAAAAAGw/RF7PZoN1zCs/s320/Fall+08+079.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Bryant inside the crab, AB had to be convinced this was safe too. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270369957556981794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SSQdjYMTECI/AAAAAAAAAG4/cv1RCdwGJcQ/s320/Fall+08+096.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;On the trails outside the aquarium.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270370481849389266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SSQeB5VWUNI/AAAAAAAAAHA/KPzh9CpFpyk/s320/Fall+08+097.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Requisite silly picture. Do your kids think a silly pic is always necessary? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;P.S.   The adults were able to eat shrimp without AB pitching a stink fit for it even being at the table.  I think that might be progress.  Baby steps!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-3773969118246770428?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/3773969118246770428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=3773969118246770428' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/3773969118246770428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/3773969118246770428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2008/11/dad-and-carolyn-visit.html' title='Dad and Carolyn Visit'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SSQa5aHO87I/AAAAAAAAAGY/ZoGafHfYGus/s72-c/Fall+08+111.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-5666569709830493916</id><published>2008-11-01T16:31:00.014-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-01T17:54:06.204-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Halloween</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SQzADagrcbI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rbcozOFhWGw/s1600-h/Fall+08+124.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263793229377794482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SQzADagrcbI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rbcozOFhWGw/s320/Fall+08+124.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Ann Bennett decided last year what she wanted to be this year, and she stuck with it. She wanted to be the Amercian Girl Doll, Elizabeth. For those of you not versed in AGDs, she is from the 1700 Colonial times. Ann Bennett was delighted to actually be Felicity -- Elizabeth's friend. We have to thank Annabelle, who loaned us her costume, and Kristine who MADE this beautiful dress. Ann Bennett loved it and felt like a princess. I was thankful she wasn't in a "hoocha momma" costume! Ann Bennett's only disappointment was that it was cold, so she had to wear a shirt under it. &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263793822355989154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SQzAl7hsoqI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NhQ9FQLRJkU/s320/Fall+08+126.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Bryant could not decide what to be. He was going to be a hobo -- where he even knew that word, I don't know. He thought about being Harry Potter and then a mummy. The day before Halloween, I was on the internet trying to figure out how to throw together a mummy costume, but I decided if he wasn't concerned I wasn't going to be either. He's almost 10! He finally decided to be a football player, Phillip Rivers. He's a former NC State player now playing pro. I was happy since it cost me NO money this year. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263794461123410578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SQzBLHHt-pI/AAAAAAAAAFI/shh70cnkGEE/s320/Fall+08+118.jpg" border="0" /&gt; Dean (A-Rod), B (Rivers), Mac (Carolina Man), Marshall (hobo) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263806369900031138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SQzMASxUbKI/AAAAAAAAAGI/ZYn8bWJaHNg/s320/Fall+08+116.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Anne Catherine (Laura Ingalls Wilder) and Ann Bennett &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263795961331526482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SQzCib1NK1I/AAAAAAAAAFQ/zi1N1cwUtJk/s320/Fall+08+117.jpg" border="0" /&gt;The whole crew -- that's Griffith as Dracula &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263797067152962690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SQzDizVlNII/AAAAAAAAAFg/YUwkN9TC_zc/s320/Fall+08+129.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The proper ladies curtsying at the block party.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263803910053961378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SQzJxHIUHqI/AAAAAAAAAFo/2i8Y90jotQM/s320/Fall+08+132.jpg" border="0" /&gt;The boys move so fast it's hard to get pics of actually trick or treating!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263804289340042898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SQzKHMFKbpI/AAAAAAAAAFw/rOcGtIj9MbA/s320/Fall+08+130.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263804592791476818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SQzKY2hn2lI/AAAAAAAAAF4/gPsKIiAVTWY/s320/Fall+08+133.jpg" border="0" /&gt; AB found this crazy headband when we got out the pumpkins and wanted me to wear them.  I decided to be festive.  Carey stayed home and passed out candy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263805050664085618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SQzKzgO9aHI/AAAAAAAAAGA/_J5puU72yCY/s320/Fall+08+136.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Back at AC's house after trick-or-treating.  Wendy's twin 1 year old neices went with us for a while, but the girls could not really get their hands on them.  When we got home, those babies and their mom were troopers!  The girls were picking them up.  Ann Bennett's held babies, but usually she is sitting down with someone handing the child to her.  This time she was picking them up off the floor and holding them on your hip as you do with a baby.  It was kind of cute to see, but I was a nervous wreck!  I did not want to make a trip to the ER on halloween.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Anyway, I hope your halloween was fun, and I really hope the candy doesn't create horrible behavior for the next month!  I forgot to take a picture of all the candy the kids brought home, but trust me, there's a ton.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-5666569709830493916?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/5666569709830493916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=5666569709830493916' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/5666569709830493916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/5666569709830493916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2008/11/happy-halloween.html' title='Happy Halloween'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SQzADagrcbI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rbcozOFhWGw/s72-c/Fall+08+124.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-7852242101387997705</id><published>2008-11-01T16:12:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-01T16:30:47.513-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Pumpkin Patch</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SQy7rfjuFLI/AAAAAAAAAEw/iTLbHy3DNbo/s1600-h/Fall+08+138.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263788420369355954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SQy7rfjuFLI/AAAAAAAAAEw/iTLbHy3DNbo/s320/Fall+08+138.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One problem we have had with your kids getting older is that their activities make it harder to do all of the fun fall stuff that goes on. When the kids were little, we always went to a church that has a huge pumpkin sale to support their youth group. It was fun. It didn't take forever, but we stayed and played a while and always had good pictures. This year, I bought a pumpkin from the grocery store just to make sure we had one, and it never even got carved. We are pitiful! I'm so glad my sister, Sandy, started a tradition out of carving the pumpkin to make sure it always gets done. She was smart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263787545436303794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SQy64kLbMbI/AAAAAAAAAEg/M5lMGFgQfN4/s320/Fall+08+131.jpg" border="0" /&gt; Anyway, on Monday night, Bryant's teacher called and said she wanted the kids to bring in a pumpkin roughly the size of their head "for a math activity." I thought they'd measure, weigh them, graph the info, compare sizes, etc.  It turns out that they carved the pumpkins. Well, they opened the pumpkins, pulled out all of the guts and counted the seeds. He came home with an empty pumkin that had something like 401 seeds. Some of the seeds also came home, so at least we have seeds to roast!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263788028300804962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SQy7Uq_Sw2I/AAAAAAAAAEo/1si36ntJylE/s320/Fall+08+137.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the past, there have always been tons of pumpkins on 10-30 for cheap. But, this year, I went to 3 grocery stores and the church mentioned above and found NO PUMPKINS! We ended up having to go to a nursery to get a pumpkin, and we had to pay full price. But, the upswing is at least I have a few pictures of my kids with pumpkins. Ann Bennett is all about making sure we photograph everything. We went after school, so they're in their uniforms instead of fall clothes, but who am I to be picky?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263787166128815186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SQy6ifJePFI/AAAAAAAAAEY/enYciV6m3-k/s320/Fall+08+122.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-7852242101387997705?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/7852242101387997705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=7852242101387997705' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/7852242101387997705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/7852242101387997705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2008/11/pumpkin-patch.html' title='Pumpkin Patch'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SQy7rfjuFLI/AAAAAAAAAEw/iTLbHy3DNbo/s72-c/Fall+08+138.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-3946547500988359969</id><published>2008-10-29T11:44:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-29T12:04:29.578-04:00</updated><title type='text'>We Survived</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just so there's proof that Bryant actually played baseball this fall, I thought I'd post a picture or two. After all, we've spent every Tuesday and Thursday night at the ballpark. There should be some proof. This first picture is of Bryant getting ready to bunt. He pulled back because a ball was thrown, but you get the idea. Cason is on third ready to run home, and Carey's the third base coach. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262603400019859826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SQiF6OvyWXI/AAAAAAAAAEA/xSUwLu1vZrk/s320/Fall+08+108.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I like this one because you can see the ball. The game was tied at this point, 6-6.  Bryant was walked this at bat. He stole second. The next batter was also walked to get the bases loaded, and the next batter hit a grand slam. It was very exciting because the next batter got a hit, stole a base and scored for the 5th run that inning. In our league, you can only get 5 runs in any inning, unless you're behind.  But, that rule is complicated, so I won't go into it.  The boys moved quickly and the other team got to finish their "at bat" before the game ended.  They didn't score any, so the final score was 11-6.  As I said before, beating the Tarheels in anything is a good day in the Sasser boys' minds!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262604132375582898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SQiGk2-_2LI/AAAAAAAAAEI/2XYfTzi07Jk/s320/Fall+08+109.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ann Bennett as usual entertained herself with things other than baseball.  Here she is with Kate, the sister of the boy who hit the grand slam.  She was not happy that I made her wear long underwear and her "Colorado coat."  She says it makes her too fat.  I never thought I'd hear that from such a youngster!  But, she was happy to have the coat and her gloves (even though they are Dora, and she's way too old for Dora now) at the ball park last night.  I was thankful for my sweater, coat, scarf and blanket.  It was COLD! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262604700535108002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SQiHF7iyMaI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/OpR86j-QqQg/s320/Fall+08+115.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;As Ann Bennett says these days, peace out.  Who knows where that came from!?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-3946547500988359969?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/3946547500988359969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=3946547500988359969' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/3946547500988359969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/3946547500988359969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2008/10/we-survived.html' title='We Survived'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SQiF6OvyWXI/AAAAAAAAAEA/xSUwLu1vZrk/s72-c/Fall+08+108.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-5324679116997687601</id><published>2008-10-28T18:19:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-28T18:26:03.446-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Freezing Cold Baseball</title><content type='html'>Some things just don't go together.  For me, freezing cold weather and baseball don't belong together.  Yet, it is going to be in the 30s tonight, and we are heading off to a baseball game.  I've accepted that baseball in my house is about a 4 season sport.  I get that I'm not really ever going to be a glamorus baseball mom.  I just don't look good in 100 degree weather on the baseball field.  But, that seems at least normal.  Baseball when it is freezing and dark just seems wrong.  And, to top it off, Bryant has the late game tonight (7:30 start for a 1½ hour game).  I'm hoping to leave early since Bryant has a test in the morning.  But, they are playing the Tarheels, and my boys hate losing to ANY team called the tarheels.  Hopefully they'll be winning by a lot and we can slip away.  I'm cold just thinking about it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-5324679116997687601?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/5324679116997687601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=5324679116997687601' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/5324679116997687601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/5324679116997687601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2008/10/freezing-cold-baseball.html' title='Freezing Cold Baseball'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-5062515528906543602</id><published>2008-10-22T08:05:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-22T08:18:29.384-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Out of the mouths of babes</title><content type='html'>For some reason Bryant and I were talking yesterday about how old Mary was when she became pregnant with Jesus.  I have no idea how these things come up, but I go where the conversation takes us.  Anyway, I was telling him she was somewhere around 13, maybe 15.  His mouth dropped open, appropriately I might add.  Then, he said, she, or was is they, broke the law.  "What law is that", I ask?  "It's agains the law to have sex until you're &lt;strong&gt;20&lt;/strong&gt;!", he declared.  It threw me a bit, and I'm all about him believing sex is not legal until as late as possible!  So, I just said things were different then.  People didn't live as long and had babies earlier.  Then, he said, but didn't Abraham live until like 500?  Boy, learning this Bible of ours sure has its complications through the eyes of a 9 year old!  I never even got to the immaculate conception part of Mary's pregnancy.  I can't wait to see how that goes.  Now that he understands how babies get here, that fact might blow his socks off. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, since I'm terrible about writing things down, we went to the doctor Monday because Bryant had pink eye.  While we were there, I asked if we should schedule a check up sometime soon.  He has not really had one since kindergarten.  The cool think about a family practitioner is, he said why don't we just do it now!  So, with his glasses, his eyes are OK.  He weighed 82.6 pounds, and he was 55½ inches (4' 7.5").  His height was at the 90th percentile, and his weight was at the 95th.  However, that might have been using the 83.6 he weighed when we walked in the door -- with shoes and before he "peed in a cup."  Let me tell you, Bryant thought the whole idea of peeing in a cup was hilarious, disgusting, ridiculous, embarassing, and he waw REALLY happy his sister was not there to know about it.  All seems well.  Good to know. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm off to chaperone a field trip to Poplar Grove with Ann Bennett's 1st grade class.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-5062515528906543602?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/5062515528906543602/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=5062515528906543602' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/5062515528906543602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/5062515528906543602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2008/10/out-of-mouths-of-babes.html' title='Out of the mouths of babes'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-8311533804373491269</id><published>2008-10-20T08:35:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-20T09:18:40.494-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Diet Coke and Other Ramblings</title><content type='html'>Well, last week I decided to go cold turkey on the dc. I decided on Tuesday, and I made it until dinner. The kids' school had Zaxby's night, and can I really be expected to miss out on a dc with rabbit pellet ice? Really? The first day? So, I had one. But, since then I've been dc and caffeine free. It has about killed me, but I'm making it. To get through I've been drinking a ton of crystal light, which I know still has artificial sweeteners, but I had to have something to get through the physical withdrawal. I think I'm about through the headaches, but boy am I crashing at night! The upside to this is I have more energy in the morning. &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This weekend it turned cold and rainy here. But, my 6 year old's RECREATION soccer league still played. I mean, really! It would have been fine to miss a game. I promise. We froze, but fortunately for us, the rain had stopped while we played. Ann Bennett actually kicked the ball a couple of times this game, so I guess there was something good about us making it to the game. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5259218944280503410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SPx_w-nYJHI/AAAAAAAAAD4/fVOGaYVVuWI/s320/princess.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, because it was rainy AND Bryant was restricted from all things electronic, we were creative with keeping ourselves entertained in the rain.  Which means, the four of us played Pretty Pretty Princess.  Ann Bennett got this game years ago.  I think she was like 3, and we have mangaed to keep up with all of the pieces!  We have 2 versions - original and Cinderella version.  It has always amazed me that Bryant can be convinced to play this game.  He doesn't like the Cindy version, but the original is fine.  I think it might be the fact that you can end up with the black ring if you aren't lucky in the original.  If you're not familiar with the game, you spin a spinner to move around the board and collect jewelry - 2 earrings, bracelet, necklace, ring (all in your assigned color) and 1 crown to share.  If you land on the crown, you get it until someone else lands on the crown and takes it from you.  The object is to get all of your pieces first.  But, beware of the black ring.  You can't win with it, and it's hard to get rid of it.  It's really a simple game, but it is funny to see Carey or Bryant with earrings, etc.!  So, this weekend, Carey and I each won a game, and neither of the kids got upset about not winning.  I think that shows we are growing up.  The kids can enjoy the games and time together even when they don't win.  I wish I had a picture for you, but I thought it might destroy the guys' willingness to play if I started snapping pictures.  Bryant is all concerned about "blackmail" these days.  I think it's a 4th grade boy thing, but who knows? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&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/2050972342042495340-8311533804373491269?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/8311533804373491269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=8311533804373491269' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/8311533804373491269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/8311533804373491269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2008/10/diet-coke-and-other-ramblings.html' title='Diet Coke and Other Ramblings'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SPx_w-nYJHI/AAAAAAAAAD4/fVOGaYVVuWI/s72-c/princess.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-4995648585673932723</id><published>2008-10-10T10:59:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-10T11:51:42.745-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Slipping Through My Fingers</title><content type='html'>OK, a little while ago, Ann Bennett and I went to see Mama Mia. Since then, all I can think about is the following song. I wrote the words for ya, but I tried to include a link to the music as well if you'd rather listen. Since I'm not too savvy with this stuff yet, I don't know if it will work. Anyway, it is all about watching your little girl grow up. Ann Bennett is learning so much and growing up so fast, I guess this song just hit me. Bryant too is growing at an alarming rate, but the song's about a girl, so . . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to let time slip through our fingers without paying attention. But, even more than that, I don't want to be the Mommy that yells all the time, is too stressed or is just plain mean. It's hard to find the balance sometimes. I am not a parent who doesn't parent because she wants to be a friend. I know children need parents. Our kids have responsibilities. In general, I think they have very little they have to do, but in comparison to some peers, our kids do more. And, let me tell you, it can be a battle. As I write this, I realize that the things that have become daily tasks, like making beds, are no longer battles. So, maybe that is my motivation. If we keep on, it will just be part of life and not worth fighting about. But, boy does the battle feel long! Our afternoons can be tumultuous between homework, reading requirements, putting away clean clothes, and heaven forbid picking up the things flung on the floor. Many times I think it would just be easier to do it, but I know there is value in learning to care for yourself. So, I persevere, but I'm not happy about the amount of yelling that I've done over the years. Kids should not be equipped to know which buttons to push! When I hear a song like this, I'm not only taken aback by how quickly they will be gone but by how I am using the time I have with them. I hope they know just how loved they are -- ALWAYS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Schoolbag in hand&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;She leaves home in the early morning&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Waving goodbye&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;With an absent-minded smile&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;I watch her go&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;With a surge of that well-known sadness&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;And I have to sit down for a while&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;The feeling that I'm loosing her forever&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;And without really entering her world&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;I'm glad whenever I can share her laughter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;That funny little girl&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Slipping through my fingers all the time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;I try to capture every minute&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;The feeling in it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Slipping through my fingers all the time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Do I really see what's in her mind&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Each time I think I'm close to knowing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;She keeps on growing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Slipping through my fingers all the time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Sleep in our eyes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Her and me at the breakfast table&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Barely awake&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;I let precious time go by&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Then when she's gone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;There's that odd melancholy feeling&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;And a sense of guilt&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;I can't deny&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;What happened to the wonderful adventures&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;The places I had planned for us to go&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Well some of that we did&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;But most we didn't&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;And why I just don't know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Slipping through my fingers all the time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;I try to capture every minute&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;The feeling in it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Slipping through my fingers all the time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Do I really see what's in her mind&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Each time I think I'm close to knowing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;She keeps on growing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Slipping through my fingers all the time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;And save it from the funny tricks of time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Slipping through my fingers -&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Schoolbag in hand&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;She leaves home in the early morning&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.stlyrics.com/lyrics/mammamia/slippingthroughmyfingers.htm" target="_blank"&gt;Siobhan McCarthy - Slipping Through My Fingers lyrics&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Proof that Ann Bennett is growing at an alarming rate -- she just lost here 8th tooth, and she's still 6! Sorry about the picture. It's not the greatest, and I didn't realize it was quite so graphic!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255547206150082114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SO90VsLfTkI/AAAAAAAAADw/gQFm33RIX78/s320/Fall+08+055.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-4995648585673932723?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/4995648585673932723/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=4995648585673932723' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/4995648585673932723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/4995648585673932723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2008/10/slipping-through-my-fingers.html' title='Slipping Through My Fingers'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SO90VsLfTkI/AAAAAAAAADw/gQFm33RIX78/s72-c/Fall+08+055.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-6465369237860800133</id><published>2008-10-06T23:35:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-06T23:49:08.998-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Look What I Can Do!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SOrZYKaoQ2I/AAAAAAAAADo/DzRkbb0LRvQ/s1600-h/Fall+08+049.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254250924417237858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SOrZYKaoQ2I/AAAAAAAAADo/DzRkbb0LRvQ/s320/Fall+08+049.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We live less than a mile from our kids' school, so when we are up early enough the kids can ride their bikes to school. Bryant often accomplishes this as he is an early riser. However, Ann Bennett does not like to get up early, and she has been slow on her bike.  So, she rarely was able to ride to school.  Plus, Bryant was horrified that she was riding to school with her training wheels!  Lots of her friends ride without training wheels, but Ann Bennett has been content to ride around taking it all in with her training wheels.  However, the desire to ride to school motivated her.  Last Tuesday, (9-30) Carey took Ann Bennett's training wheels off.  He ran along beside her a couple of times, but then she was off.  This video is of the next day, 10-1.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-b17e693bfd3229ce" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v9.nonxt1.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Db17e693bfd3229ce%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331252978%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D7D37B79194C96018D84E45A543C1F93BFF66E8E3.66C03200ABD9AD45A1A328FD3CC837697701E97F%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Db17e693bfd3229ce%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DSsML10sKbK5-zT93-fcTe2puLwg&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v9.nonxt1.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Db17e693bfd3229ce%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331252978%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D7D37B79194C96018D84E45A543C1F93BFF66E8E3.66C03200ABD9AD45A1A328FD3CC837697701E97F%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Db17e693bfd3229ce%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DSsML10sKbK5-zT93-fcTe2puLwg&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;For Carey and I, the most amazing thing is that now, a week later, it's like she's been riding this way for months.  She figured out the starting thing, and she's geting better at stopping.  It is amazing to watch a child learn a new skill.  Once they get it, there is no stopping them.  Of course, it helps that she has done it over and over and over and over since she learned!  She seems to understand that practice makes perfect.  I guess it might also feel like a bit of independence.  We still ride with her to school, and I go meet her at the school to ride home.  But, soon she will be able to ride home with Bryant.  Way to go AB!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-6465369237860800133?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=b17e693bfd3229ce&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/6465369237860800133/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=6465369237860800133' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/6465369237860800133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/6465369237860800133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2008/10/look-what-i-can-do.html' title='Look What I Can Do!'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SOrZYKaoQ2I/AAAAAAAAADo/DzRkbb0LRvQ/s72-c/Fall+08+049.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-5991109920992181798</id><published>2008-09-29T21:57:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-29T22:45:57.157-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Football Anyone?</title><content type='html'>Saturday afternoon, our family skipped Ann Bennett's soccer game to go up to the NC State football game. It was a 7:30 game, so since Carey never leaves a game early, we knew it would be a late night (especially because it was a TV game). Over the years we have had some HORRIBLE weather at games -- 152 degrees one time with sleepy children, -30 another year. We figured this would be a good one -- cool, but not cold. So, off to Raleigh we go. As is tradition, we started out tailgating. &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251632762520957810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SOGMLFTdc3I/AAAAAAAAADA/H-ikllwCEDk/s320/Fall+08+038.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Ann Bennett and "friends"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251633209249796114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SOGMlFf6kBI/AAAAAAAAADI/WzdHQtIs6ZQ/s320/Fall+08+039.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;I don't know if you can see it or not, but the guys in the convertible had an interesting "tail gate" strategy. They ate in their car with the top down. Never seen that one before. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Next, we went to the "fan zone" where they have fun stuff for the kids. You know you are really getting old when you go to get a new free ring tone at the Alltel booth, and the guy gives directions to your son and says something like, "I'm gonna tell him how to go get the one you want since he probably does more with the phone than you do." Seriously! I mean, I know some 9yo have phones, and maybe Bryant looks older. Who knows, but really!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251634018546316258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SOGNUMXPc-I/AAAAAAAAADQ/rlA-4ycwUu0/s320/Fall+08+041.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;This is actually the first pic I have of them in front of the stadium. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;So, we go into the stadum. In like the first 3 minutes, South Florida scores. It's not looking too good. Then, something makes a guy behind us boo the officials or some play. A guy in the next section starts yelling at the guy behind us not to "boo the field in this house."  A bunch of explicatives, security and even the real police later, they calm down and we get back to the game.  Don't you love it when you take your family to an event that should be safe, and they get exposed to stuff you'd like to avoid?  Meanwhile, Ann Bennett is talking a mile a minute -- important stuff like if the Cubs played NCSU, who would we cheer for?  If Furman played NCSU who would I cheer for?  There's Mrs. Wolf.  Are those our cheerleaders?  We managed to avoid the food questions.  NCSU scored a field goal.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251635310032314930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SOGOfXhf4jI/AAAAAAAAADY/8q_yKumILDA/s320/Fall+08+042.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;At the end of the 1st quarter, it started to rain.  We had an umbrella -- in the car, and I had on a white t-shirt.  We really did not think we were going to need rain gear.  As the rain got harder, I decided it was not going to be pretty if I stayed in the rain, so Ann Bennett and I go get ponchos and hide out under the bleachers.  A bit later, I call Carey to find out he and Bryant have also vacated to under the stands.  It takes us a while to find each other - bad reception under stands in rain!  We found each other and Carey says we are leaving.  The score was already 31-3 or something like that.  We left before half time, and he has never left a game early.  As we walked out of the stadium, State scored the only touchdown of the evening.  It was not pretty.  I think the final score was 41-10.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;So, the next picture is really what we drove to Raleigh for last Saturday.  At least we were home a little earlier than expected.  I am shepherding Ann Bennett's Sunday school class, and she was singing in church.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251635653374946498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SOGOzWkwrMI/AAAAAAAAADg/HxclCznqZGw/s320/Fall+08+043.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I hope your team won this week.  Furman won 35-10, but neither of my children are Paladin fans.  Maybe they'll convert yet!  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-5991109920992181798?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/5991109920992181798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=5991109920992181798' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/5991109920992181798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/5991109920992181798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2008/09/football-anyone.html' title='Football Anyone?'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SOGMLFTdc3I/AAAAAAAAADA/H-ikllwCEDk/s72-c/Fall+08+038.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-6860983683460746822</id><published>2008-09-19T08:52:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-19T09:13:05.978-04:00</updated><title type='text'>First Soccer Game - AB</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt; Ann Bennett has somehow made it to 6 without ever playing soccer. Shocking, I know! She never ASKED to play, and we have so many blooming games to go to with Bryant that I didn't push it. She tried t-ball last fall, but once she'd tried it, she was done. Well, now that she's in U7 for soccer, it's all girls. She's on a team with lots of her friends. They have an Ann Bennett, Anne Catherine and Anna Dudly on her team. Those poor coaches have a hard time knowing which Ann name to use! Anyway, it's been a great experience. Her coaches are great. Both are fathers of girls in AB's school. One's daughter broke her arm in August, so she's not even getting to play. We're so lucky to still have him helping with the team, and we hope Grayson makes it back before the season ends! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247715166942744290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SNOhJAgNTuI/AAAAAAAAACg/g9HLt3hAi8A/s320/Fall+08+033.jpg" border="0" /&gt;AB throwing in the ball. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247716804245935170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SNOioT7tVEI/AAAAAAAAACo/X134sQvCasw/s320/Fall+08+030.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;AB is #8. I wasn't sure she'd stay with the ball when it was so hot, but she did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247717455198222178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SNOjOM6092I/AAAAAAAAACw/m3LjC8MtCyE/s320/Fall+08+031.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Her favorite part - chatting with friends. Notice Grayson's cast. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247718382873010130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SNOkEMxu39I/AAAAAAAAAC4/N3UOPx2ODbU/s320/Fall+08+032.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;Anne Catherine, Ann Bennett, Mary Archer, Lydia, Grayson, Coach Stuart watching.  My favorite picture of the day! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;We actually had 2 games this weekend. The previous weekend we were rained out by Hanna. We lost on Saturday, but I guess Sunday counts as a win. Only 2 kids from the other team showed up. Their coach wasn't even there. The girls didn't care. They still scrimmaged and got in some extra practice.  I think this is going to be a great experience for AB.  She has a lot to learn, but she seems really interested in going.  We'll keep you posted.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-6860983683460746822?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/6860983683460746822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=6860983683460746822' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/6860983683460746822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/6860983683460746822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2008/09/first-soccer-game-ab.html' title='First Soccer Game - AB'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SNOhJAgNTuI/AAAAAAAAACg/g9HLt3hAi8A/s72-c/Fall+08+033.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-3646993625538916249</id><published>2008-09-17T13:54:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-17T14:08:01.259-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Grocery Shopping and Diet Coke</title><content type='html'>First, I love diet coke.  I drink way too much of it.  But, I am feeling very much like I might need to give up my dc.  I have never really paid all that much attention to my shopping habits.  I go in and out of organized periods when I have meals planned, organized lists, etc.  But, honestly, I kind of wing it a lot.  I have a great husband who doesn't mind running the 1/4 of a mile to the store for items I need, or he willingly pick things up on the way home.  When kids came along, shopping was much more difficult.  I remember going through the aisles with Bryant as a toddler.  By the time I got to frozen foods, he was done and started tossing things out of the cart!  We got over that, but it made me realize shopping was no longer an easy, stroll through the store activity.  It is still expensive to take kids shopping with me, so in the summer my very slack habits return.  I even try to shop online some during the summer.  The $5 fee is well worth the money I save by not having kids with me in the store.  (Those of you who haven't tried it, should try it.  Once you do it, it is easy!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, with my kids back in school, it is back to more planned meals, lists, etc.  I'm even trying to pay attention to grocery ads and do some comparison shopping.  In so doing, I see how much diet coke must be costing my family.  So, now in addition to knowing that the aspartame and other chemicals are bad for me, I realize the cost is ridiculous.  Plus, I guess I could help the planet out by not using as many bottles/cans.  But, can I live in a world without diet coke?  Of all the people I know, my brother-in-law probably gets this more than most.  What to do. . .&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-3646993625538916249?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/3646993625538916249/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=3646993625538916249' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/3646993625538916249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/3646993625538916249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2008/09/grocery-shopping-and-diet-coke.html' title='Grocery Shopping and Diet Coke'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-2418970966224079751</id><published>2008-09-11T23:19:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-11T23:58:45.476-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Shrimp Anyone?</title><content type='html'>OK, we live at the beach, but I have failed to convince my children to eat any seafood. Ann Bennett has always been a pretty good eater, but she's gotten pickier as she has gotten older. About a year ago I decided to TRY to work shrimp into our meals, but this is what happens when I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-dabedd08eb99a3ba" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v16.nonxt3.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Ddabedd08eb99a3ba%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331252978%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D6D7206F54E48014B70D875C13AD718CF684820B7.400CA699069C30BCDF8906642E17E31BB73D4C9%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Ddabedd08eb99a3ba%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DfMTi1S7pMwpUoKyxDgI1Eblgpv4&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v16.nonxt3.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Ddabedd08eb99a3ba%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331252978%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D6D7206F54E48014B70D875C13AD718CF684820B7.400CA699069C30BCDF8906642E17E31BB73D4C9%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Ddabedd08eb99a3ba%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DfMTi1S7pMwpUoKyxDgI1Eblgpv4&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can you see why it takes a lot to even try? The first time I served it, I gave each child one shrimp and asked them to eat it. After crying for 20 or more minutes, AB finally put it in her mouth. She chewed it up and held it in her mouth for over 20 minutes -- seriously!  Carey swears it was more like 30 minutes.  I cleaned up the entire kitchen with that shrimp in her mouth!  She kept saying she needed help to eat it. Can you imagine holding a chewed up shrimp in your mouth? Disgusting! So, I decided we needed to back down.  For now, our goal is to just have her tolerate a shrimp on her plate. She doesn't have to eat it, touch it or let it touch any of her food. It just sits on her plate! She still can't stand it. She about falls apart when she sees shrimp in our house. But, I'm determined. So, in this video, you heard Carey send her to her room when she starts crying. (He got to 3.) She stayed there about 10 minutes -- crying, moaning about how horrible shrimp is and we are to make her see it. Now, the only benefit to this is that Bryant sees how ridiculous this kind of behavior is, and he eats the 1 shrimp he is given. He doesn't like it, so he tries all kinds of things to make it better. Tonight he took a drink of water and then the shrimp. He about gagged on it, but he ate it without complaints. Now, I can sympathize. I remember this sensation as a child -- especially when Mom tried Weight Watchers and served us liver, but that's another story. Carey on the other hand has the following reaction. (Sorry this is so short, I ran out of memory.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-99211de749b8b2e0" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v10.nonxt4.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D99211de749b8b2e0%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331252978%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D7ECB5A9E7E6E3BEFA609638D049936B2A0BB8E36.4F7C564FD3FF1C6386777B8EF846FEE5E207E7BB%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D99211de749b8b2e0%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D7oU3LbO6XDdNckRqj-MebW19CMw&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v10.nonxt4.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D99211de749b8b2e0%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331252978%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D7ECB5A9E7E6E3BEFA609638D049936B2A0BB8E36.4F7C564FD3FF1C6386777B8EF846FEE5E207E7BB%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D99211de749b8b2e0%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D7oU3LbO6XDdNckRqj-MebW19CMw&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;So, dinner tonight was lively.  Tragically upset daughter.  Gagging son.  Laughing outloud husband.  But, eventually, we had this happen. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-3c6d257aae5f550f" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v21.nonxt3.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D3c6d257aae5f550f%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331252978%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D3ECB35CED7BE21A80309FBE5A05944263A56C381.7CE3A26EABB739FE1D8C0D942DE1C0A70C54B2C8%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D3c6d257aae5f550f%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3Dx-8w8l9BZsXvuoAiwbKPIwbAlts&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v21.nonxt3.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D3c6d257aae5f550f%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331252978%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D3ECB35CED7BE21A80309FBE5A05944263A56C381.7CE3A26EABB739FE1D8C0D942DE1C0A70C54B2C8%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D3c6d257aae5f550f%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3Dx-8w8l9BZsXvuoAiwbKPIwbAlts&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;So, is that success? I guess it is at least progress. It took a lot less time for her to calm down and just sit at the table. She would not eat a couple of her tomatoes or a bit of one of the quesadillas because she swore the shrimp had touched them. Again, I used to hate tomato guts, so I can understand this to a degree. But, she came back to the table, ate most of the food and we had no more tears. I think pink baby might have helped. Pink baby was AB's lovey for a long, long time. Now she is one of many "aminals" that AB loves. But, I guess in times of real crisis, you need your MOST trusted friend!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244976114366241122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SMnl_Kg1WWI/AAAAAAAAACY/0XoMk4U_Yng/s320/Fall+08+018.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-2418970966224079751?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=3c6d257aae5f550f&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=99211de749b8b2e0&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=dabedd08eb99a3ba&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/2418970966224079751/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=2418970966224079751' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/2418970966224079751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/2418970966224079751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2008/09/shrimp-anyone.html' title='Shrimp Anyone?'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SMnl_Kg1WWI/AAAAAAAAACY/0XoMk4U_Yng/s72-c/Fall+08+018.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-3786878860218584797</id><published>2008-09-07T14:41:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-07T14:58:06.269-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Check This Out</title><content type='html'>First of all, we came through Hanna without even losing power -- which is really amazing.  About half of our neighborhood lost power due to a huge oak tree that fell on the power lines, but we are not on that grid.  Fortunately they had power by late afternoon yesterday.  We are thankful as we know Hanna was not so kind to Haiti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to tell you about a site I have followed for a while.  The link is &lt;a href="http://www.caringbridge.org/ga/marin"&gt;www.caringbridge.org/ga/marin&lt;/a&gt;.  Marin is a teenager who now lives in Seattle.  Her family was in GA, and Marin was a part of a very competitive year round swim team there.  She was really good and had hoped to compete in Beijing in '08.  At 15, in 2005, she was diagnosed with a brain tumor/cancer.  She had 3 surgeries in short succession, and she was left with right side paralysis.  At some point during this battle, her father's job relocated to WA and the family moved.  I can't imagine changing doctors or leaving a support system of friends in the middle of something like that, but they did.  Anyway, she NEEDED to swim and found a way to make it happen.  She is currently in Beijing at the Paralympics.  This has been a very difficult year for Marin, and as recent as a month ago, she was in hospice care.  It is amazing she was able to make the trip.  Another amazing thing about this young girl is when the Make-a-Wish foundation heard about her desire to go to Beijing, they asked if she would like that to be her wish.  She said no thank you.  She was going to make it there on her own.  Anyway, there is a post on her site today that is just amazing.  I encourage you to go visit it and leave a note.  I'm sure her family would appreciate it along with prayers for safety during their time in China and the return trip home.  I just wish I could see some of this on TV!  It's much more inspiring that the political squirmishes we get to hear about right now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-3786878860218584797?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/3786878860218584797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=3786878860218584797' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/3786878860218584797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/3786878860218584797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2008/09/check-this-out.html' title='Check This Out'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-709014171504605046</id><published>2008-09-05T18:52:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-05T19:13:49.583-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hanna Fun</title><content type='html'>I'm going to try to give you an idea of what boys think is a good idea of activity on a hurricane day.  I've known for as long as I can remember that boys are different than girls, but raising a son has highlighted this fact that those of you gals with brothers already knew, I'm sure. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, the following video -- if this works -- was taken a few minutes ago.  Please ignore the mess in the garage, and remember we live close to sea level.  There are no basements to store stuff here or to send crazy kids to.  Boy do I miss a basement, but that's another story. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-284fcda80d697f4b" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v18.nonxt7.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D284fcda80d697f4b%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331252978%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D2EB49A9B34CA93B0963DD37873B6B525EFEE92E.7B18A62126018C4652561117D64EFC08630778CF%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D284fcda80d697f4b%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DwOK0f_t_NBYkx8pTxRks0bqoRYo&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v18.nonxt7.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D284fcda80d697f4b%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331252978%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D2EB49A9B34CA93B0963DD37873B6B525EFEE92E.7B18A62126018C4652561117D64EFC08630778CF%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D284fcda80d697f4b%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DwOK0f_t_NBYkx8pTxRks0bqoRYo&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;For those of you that don't know, those are plasma cars.  (You don't pedal or push yourself along.  Somehow you move that steering wheel back and forth to move the car.)  Ann Bennett won the first one a couple years ago, and the big guys loved it so much that Bryant asked for one last year for Christmas.  In this video, Bryant and Ward are racing.  Robert and Tanner are chasing them, but what they want to be doing is rolling/throwing baseballs at Bryant and Ward to knock them off or at least pushing a skateboard in their path.  I drew the line at those ideas.  The contraption in the middle of the garage is to practice hitting.  Notice Ann Bennett just stands in the middle and watches the madness!  After this, they went outside to play football.  Robert, Tanner and Bryant are in 6th, 5th and 4th grade and play together most days.  Ward is Robert's older brother (in HS) who sometimes comes and plays with them.  They LOVE it and so do I.  He can't be convinced to hang with them as much now, but when he does, I feel a little better.  He sort of makes sure they don't kill each other in football or whatever adventure they create, but he is fun in the way only an older guy can be.    &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So, the point is, you moms of preschoolers still have a lot of years of extra activity ahead of you.  Invest in lots of items to expend energy.  You still have years to use them.  I'm sure all of these boys are over the age the plasma car is marketed to, but they still seem to find ways to use them.  If we didn't have lots of stuff to play with outside, they'd be inside playing x-box or wii or watching tv.  At least this way they're being active and creative.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-709014171504605046?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=284fcda80d697f4b&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/709014171504605046/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=709014171504605046' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/709014171504605046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/709014171504605046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2008/09/hanna-fun.html' title='Hanna Fun'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-171173702972225466</id><published>2008-09-04T15:21:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-04T15:51:30.401-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hurricane Prep</title><content type='html'>Until I moved to this area, I never really understood hurricanes.  I knew what they were, but I never understood why people would stay in the area.  I always thought, just leave.  But, now I get it.  You never really know until it is too late if you need to get out of dodge or not, and what do you take, and will you find a place that accepts both your cat and dog?  The uncertainties go on and on.  Plus, the one time we left, we almost couldn't get back because of flooding.  I live in town and not at the beach, so I have never had a mandatory evacuation.  If a mandatory evacuation was in place, we'd leave.  And, if that Ike heads our way, the post will be different.  However, I have now lived through a ton of storms -- Bertha, Fran, Floyd, Ophelia, and lots more that I don't even remember any more.  My kids don't really remember hurricanes because fortunately we did not have even one last year.  The only thing they "know" about hurricanes is Katrina, so Bryant keeps asking where we are going.  When I tell him we're staying here, he looks at me like I've grown another head.  But, he's 9, so he moves on quickly. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, there is a wierd energy in the air when a smallish hurricane is heading your way.  It kind of energizes you.  Everyone talks about it, and once all the work is done, it kind of goes into party mode.  I know that sounds crazy, and once the storm hits, it's not such a party.  And, AFTER the storm, clean up is NEVER a party!  But, I have some really fond memories of waiting for a storm.  And, just about everyone here has a hurricane tradition.  Most everyone I know buys "rubbish" before a storm.  There is some rule that seems to say that calories consumed -in drink or food - during a storm don't count.  My personal favorite is a Nutter Butter cookie.  I NEVER buy these at other times because I simply have no self control with them.  So, I have gas in my car.  I have water (though in all the years I've been here we have never lost water in the city limits), batteries, a manual can opener, canned food, ice, candles, a charged cell phone and nutter butters.  We should be fine now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and for those of you who might try to call us, don't worry if our phone is out.  We won't have phone if either cable or electricity is out.  This is the only problem I've had with cable phone service.  Before cable phone, I never lost the phone, so when boredom set in I could always phone a friend.  Now, I have to referee fights without the vita-line.  My cell phone should work, but only as long as I have battery power.  From what I understand, the storm will not be here until late tomorrow night/early Saturday morning -- if it even comes here, and it is fast moving.  You just never know, but Carey has heard that the kids are out of school tomorrow.  I was hoping they'd at least go half day.  I hate making up missed days!  Hurricane days are never as much fun as snow days were.  Please do remember all the people who work during these storms.  Emergency personnel, medical staff and even power companies have a lot of work to keep everyone safe during a storm.  I know this post seems lighthearted, but I do recognize the power and potential threat of a storm.  Pray that no fools try to surf in this storm.  Someone always does -- especially with school out tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-171173702972225466?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/171173702972225466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=171173702972225466' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/171173702972225466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/171173702972225466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2008/09/hurricane-prep.html' title='Hurricane Prep'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-3378309166079965844</id><published>2008-09-04T13:11:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-04T13:27:13.251-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='preschool'/><title type='text'>Back to Work</title><content type='html'>Today was my first day as a preschool teacher, at least since I've had children, and if you don't count Sunday School or VBS or play group, but you know what I mean.  I'm actually earning a paycheck for this one.  Anyway, I am co-teaching the toddler class at the preschool where my kids went to preschool. I'm working with a friend (Janet) whose son (Marshall) has been one of Bryant's closest friends for life.  Our younger kids are also good friends.  In fact, our older boys started school out in this same class in the fall of 2000. They were in a class of 11 -- with 9 of them being boys. One of the teachers "retired" after our class. The other one works across the hall from us. Today was a fun but crazy day! We have 10 kids, and about half of them were crying today. But, they all liked going outside, snack and singing their blessing, so for a bit everyone was happy. At least we had an extra person with us today, and what do you expect with toddlers? I was so fortunate that neither of my children EVER cried when going to school. They were happy to be there and loved every moment of it -- as did I. I'm excited to see these little ones grow over the next year and to know that their families are getting at least a little break.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-3378309166079965844?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/3378309166079965844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=3378309166079965844' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/3378309166079965844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/3378309166079965844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2008/09/back-to-work.html' title='Back to Work'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-4505476859087458084</id><published>2008-09-03T10:06:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-03T10:24:55.425-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Football Draft</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Carey and Trip have had this fantasy football league for 10 years or so. I can't actually remember, but it's been a while.  (Laura, do you know how long?  I think it preexists the kids, right?)  They hold the draft on Labor Day weekend. Traditionally, we alternate the draft location between our town and theirs. But, we've had a few issues over the years. Hurricanes come our way, and at times it has prohibited travel. And now, our growing families make it harder to be together. But, the league survives. They just do it online, so they don't have to be together. What tends to happen is the group in each town gets together. So, Sunday morning, this is what my kitchen table looked like. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241798113482752914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SL6bnKpzw5I/AAAAAAAAACE/BP7Wi00SdU8/s320/Fall+08+013.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241797649541210578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SL6bMKVhodI/AAAAAAAAAB8/9WPNxW190MA/s320/Fall+08+012.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Don't they look serious?  I will say that this was the SHORTEST draft in history!  I think they are finally working out the kinks.  So the funny thing to me about this (other than the whole pretend football thing) is how normal it is for me to think a 9 year old would know enough to have a team.  Bryant has wanted to be at the draft for at least the last 3 years.  In fact, he's wanted to have his own league the last 2 years, but unfortunately he never thinks of this until about now.  It is hard to find enough kids close to his age with the interest and knowledge to draft a fantasy team.  I take it as normal for 9 year old boys, but when I start to think about kids to participate in a league, I realize it's not so normal after all.  So, I guess somehow I have managed to raise a child who is going to grow into a man with lots of sports trivia in his head.  I just hope we are managing to get other info up there as well.  You know, that God loves him, has a plan for his life, responsibility, the importance of education, being a good friend, becoming a man of God, learning to comb his hair (did you notice that?).  Just a few things beyond baseball, football, Olympic sports, etc. &lt;br /&gt;&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/2050972342042495340-4505476859087458084?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/4505476859087458084/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=4505476859087458084' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/4505476859087458084'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/4505476859087458084'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2008/09/football-draft.html' title='Football Draft'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SL6bnKpzw5I/AAAAAAAAACE/BP7Wi00SdU8/s72-c/Fall+08+013.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-5272086552914004569</id><published>2008-09-03T09:49:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-03T10:05:34.035-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Labor Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SL6W-na8c6I/AAAAAAAAABs/k7cnwyQ7DXg/s1600-h/Fall+08+016.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241793018783888290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SL6W-na8c6I/AAAAAAAAABs/k7cnwyQ7DXg/s320/Fall+08+016.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; At the last minute, we decided to have the Legers come hang out with us on Labor Day. It was such a nice evening! For me, it was the kind of easy evening you dream of when thinking of being a parent. The adults were able to sit, talk and just hang out. All the kids just played. That is Ladi and Brady with Ann Bennett in the jeep. Brady was the official driver, but the girls seemed content with the idea. Brady is such a funny guy! Ladi was only adopted from Russia in late May, and she turned 5 a few days after coming home. But, boy has her English exploded this summer! It is amazing how quickly she is learning English. What a privilege it is to get to be a part of her life. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241794958732470418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SL6YviSuqJI/AAAAAAAAAB0/KrwkA0ymExc/s320/Fall+08+014.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Bryant, Bryson and Blake (though he's just outside the picture) navigated to the Xbox, but they played football, boccie ball, and who knows what else outside for quite a while.  Bryant and Bryson are both in 4th grade this year - which still sounds so old!  Blake is in 8th grade, and Bryant LOVES having him around.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thank you Legers for joining us and making it such a nice, easy, relaxing evening. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/2050972342042495340-5272086552914004569?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/5272086552914004569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=5272086552914004569' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/5272086552914004569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/5272086552914004569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2008/09/labor-day.html' title='Labor Day'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SL6W-na8c6I/AAAAAAAAABs/k7cnwyQ7DXg/s72-c/Fall+08+016.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-9194719797541042858</id><published>2008-08-30T09:18:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-30T10:00:29.050-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Last Day of Summer</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Since I didn't start blogging until recently, I thought I'd go back and journal some stuff from this summer.  Last Monday, I had a meeting to attend, and I was really bummed because is was the kids' last day of summer. We usually try to do something fun on that day. I mentioned this to a friend, and she organized a fun day for 4 families of kids. 2 moms -- Wendy and Jennifer -- took the 10 kids to the beach while the other 2 of us went to our meeting. We met them for lunch and an afternoon at the beach after our meeting. Our kids have no idea how lucky they are to live this close to the beach! Jennifer graciously invited all of us to the yacht club where they have both beach and sound access as well as dressing rooms, a screened porch for dining, a kitchen, grills, a wonderful place! Thank you so much Jennifer!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5240302418421293250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SLlLSQWfIMI/AAAAAAAAABM/PQiS3twtQgM/s320/Summer+08+138.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Frances, Ann Bennett, Anne Catherine, Griffith&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;This is the younger group playing on the sound side. They are all good swimmers, thankfully, because they were walking out the dock, jumping off and swimming to shore. It's not that far, but it's probably about the length of the pool.  These 4 have played together since birth, just about.  They were in a play group together as toddlers.  AB, AC and G's brothers all played on the same baseball team for a while, so they have had a lot of memories together.  It is fun watching them grow up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5240301675063634578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SLlKm_INapI/AAAAAAAAABE/9JCYTeSijpg/s320/Summer+08+134.jpg" border="0" /&gt; Marshall, Dean, Ward, Mac, Bryant, Ward's friend whose name I've forgotten!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;The big boys only let me take one picture. They were far too busy swimming, diving, going under the dock, boogie boarding, finding frightening places to jump and doing what boys do. Ward and his friend started 6th grade this week, Marshall 5th, Mac and Bryant 4th, and Dean 3rd. The beach is a great place to go with a group like this!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5240307069258035442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="241" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SLlPg-EX8PI/AAAAAAAAABk/FTJTifQ4vCE/s320/Summer+08+125.jpg" width="320" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div align="center"&gt;Frances and Ann Bennett&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Frances and Ann Bennett are in the same class this year, and we are excited about it.  There are not that many girls in their 1st grade class, and last year they were not together.  They have a great teacher, so we are all looking forward to a happy 1st grade. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;And, finally, after taking the above picture, I noticed AB's hair was COVERED in sand.  I told her to go wash it off in the ocean.  This is what the crazy girls did.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5240304112393913586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SLlM025CBPI/AAAAAAAAABc/NF4rF4juMIE/s320/Summer+08+129.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Thank you so much Jennifer and Wendy for letting our kids have a great last day of summer.  It made me feel much better, and I know they had a blast.  You are such good friends, and I'm lucky to have you.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-9194719797541042858?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/9194719797541042858/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=9194719797541042858' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/9194719797541042858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/9194719797541042858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2008/08/last-day-of-summer.html' title='Last Day of Summer'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SLlLSQWfIMI/AAAAAAAAABM/PQiS3twtQgM/s72-c/Summer+08+138.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-7313526473243904765</id><published>2008-08-29T08:45:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T09:05:38.950-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Homework Again</title><content type='html'>Since Bryant started kindergarten, we have always had a rule that homework is done as soon as you get home. I struggled with this for a while because the kids had been sitting all day, and surely they need a break to run around for a while. However, in our house, if we wait, it is worse. With sports, choir, etc. and friends coming to play, there is always something to prevent timely completion of homework. And if we wait until after dinner, the drama would kill us all. My kids need sleep, and sleepy children and homework do not mix in our home! So, no one comes to our house until 3:30, and we do HW right after school. It works for us in elementary school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I remember when Bryant started back to 1st grade, his really important HW was to draw a picture of his family. He fell apart about this! Bryant learned in K that he didn't know how to draw, so he hated all things related to drawing. (That is not what they were trying to teach him in K, but my little perfectionist took it that way. He could not draw things accurately, and if you used unrealistic colors for people or left off things like ears, it ws pointed out. Realistic drawing is part of the curriculum here in NC.) Anyway, it took us about an hour to get this simple drawing done! He wailed about how Daddy was too big to fit on his paper. He couldn't draw a circle for the head. We used a quarter to get a perfectly round head, and we made Daddy a wee bit smaller than his 6'2" height. We got through it. Fortunately, he didn't have much more drawing to do for HW after that. I remember that incident as related to his loathing of drawing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, it turns out that just maybe, 1st graders are tired the first week of school. Because, Ann Bennett fell apart this week over writing letters. She writes all the time, but she was having a fit about even starting HW. Then, she was impatient and didn't listen to my directions and did it wrong. So, we had to do it again. I got a new piece of paper and did not make her erase her work! Anyway, it took us forever to get through a simple task. The next day, I made sure she had a snack first, and we've been fine since.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, the moral for the 3rd child I don't have and won't be having is that even though kids seem so big by the start of 1st grade, they are still LITTLE kids. They get tired when they start school and need some TLC that first week. And, most likely, they need something to get their blood sugar back up before starting HW. I don't know if HW right after school will be our rule in 2 years when Bryant goes to middle school --YIKES!, but for now it works. They get home so late in MS, that if he doesn't have a chance to play after school, he might not have the chance at all. I don't know, but I guess we'll figure it out then.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-7313526473243904765?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/7313526473243904765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=7313526473243904765' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/7313526473243904765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/7313526473243904765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2008/08/homework-again.html' title='Homework Again'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-5912969338557602676</id><published>2008-08-26T21:43:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-26T22:29:29.220-04:00</updated><title type='text'>First Day of School</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239016902899548898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SLS6HZ2YQuI/AAAAAAAAAA8/IjXWF4RjSnw/s320/Fall+08+011.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SLS5K48_GSI/AAAAAAAAAA0/9zUI4ttVcSE/s1600-h/Fall+08+001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239015863276738850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SLS5K48_GSI/AAAAAAAAAA0/9zUI4ttVcSE/s320/Fall+08+001.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today was the first day of school in NC! We had a great summer, but it was time to go back to school. Bryant had baseball just about every day in June and July, so we needed August before returning to school. But, we had a few weeks off, and the kids were fighting over just about everything. It was time to get back to school. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bryant started 4th grade today. I can't believe he is that old! He has friends who started middle school today, and that terrifies me. He has Ms. Walters, and his class is big! He has 29 kids in the class. The state mandate is that there can be no more than 29 in a 4th grade class without the state granting special permission. I'm not sure what I hope happens, but if a change is going to happen, I hope they go ahead and make the change. I don't want to lose time reorganizing classes! Bryant seemed happy enough today. He always is slow to decide what he thinks about a class, so we'll see. He got glasses this summer, and he is supposed to wear them at school. He is not happy about that, but hopefully he'll get used to it. He has heard that Ms. Walters can be fun if you're behaving or mean if you're not. He was delighted with her behavior system. You earn money for everything from school work to behavior, and you can spend the money on things like computer time, eating lunch with a friend from another class, helping in another class, etc. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ann Bennett started 1st grade today. She has Miss Preston, and we are all really happy about that! She was Bryant's 1st grade teacher, and she was fabulous. She has been his favorite teacher so far. She is very disciplined, and kids love her. She rewards good behavior in ways that encourages all kids to do their best. She is fun, fully devoted and works really hard! She has babysat for us once a week the past 3 summers, so Ann Bennett is so excited. I'm glad because Ann Bennett has very few kids from the neighborhood in the whole 1st grade at her school. Fortunately she has a few children she knows in her class, including Frances. She and Frances were in a summer play group for years -- starting as toddlers. It should be fun for them to be together. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Carey can't understand my need for pictures on the first day of school, but it is a tradition for me with my kids. We always take them outside our front door. (They always seem a little hazy from the humidity of late August as well, and they are never great because the kids are always anxious to get to school.) What about you? Do you have a picture taking tradition? I'm planning to torment my children with these pictures until they leave for college. &lt;/div&gt;&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/2050972342042495340-5912969338557602676?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/5912969338557602676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=5912969338557602676' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/5912969338557602676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/5912969338557602676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2008/08/first-day-of-school.html' title='First Day of School'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PrCOMCUX1_U/SLS6HZ2YQuI/AAAAAAAAAA8/IjXWF4RjSnw/s72-c/Fall+08+011.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050972342042495340.post-7372275546485107117</id><published>2008-08-25T19:24:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-25T19:46:57.798-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome</title><content type='html'>Over 9 years ago, my friend Laura had her first child, and Bryant was about 6 months old.  Being the smart gal that Laura is, she found a website for us to use to keep people updated on our kids.  It was called growthspurts -- I think?  Anyway, it was basically a baby book type site.  It had a place to enter height/weight stats, developmental milestones and something like 10 pictures.  I think there was even a place to give a short written update.  I did it for a bit, but I also kept a calendar at home of this info.  Thank goodness I had the written info because, bam, one day all of the info was gone!  I tell you all this to say, that I think we were actually "blogging" back then.  We just didn't call it that, and it disappeared on us! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward 9 years.  Many of my friends with young children have blogs, and I enjoy reading them both near and far.  Not as many friends with school age kids have blogs, but I decided I was going to try anyway.  I am a horrible scrapbooker.  Bryant's first 14 months of life are in a book, and Ann Bennett made it home from the hospital.  I have tons of pictures, but I'm hoping this will help me keep track of some of the details of our life.  Plus, I found with Mom's Caringbridge site, that I enjoy writing.  Maybe this will encourage me to do a little more of that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, my first challenge in this world was what to name our blog.  One friend's blog is Leger Life, and I thought I'd copy her idea (thanks Kelley).  I started searching for an "s" word to go with Sasser.  I didn't like saga all that much at first because to me it sounds very dramatic or "Days of Our Lives ish."  We have enough drama in our lives, and I didn't want to encourage that!  When I looked up saga, I found the following:  &lt;em&gt;a  narrative of achievements and events in the history of a personage, family, etc. &lt;/em&gt;  I think that fits for what this blog will probably be.  I'd love to say I'm going to have bright, witty, interesting stories.  But, it will probably be more of the story of our family.  Hopefully it won't be zapped into internet land somewhere like last time!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2050972342042495340-7372275546485107117?l=sassersaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/feeds/7372275546485107117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050972342042495340&amp;postID=7372275546485107117' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/7372275546485107117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050972342042495340/posts/default/7372275546485107117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sassersaga.blogspot.com/2008/08/welcome.html' title='Welcome'/><author><name>René S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13231781564711845961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry></feed>
