tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60192171228067748392024-02-19T05:41:12.669+01:00He Said, She SaidTroy and Heather Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02271314161195023720noreply@blogger.comBlogger117125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6019217122806774839.post-86089172191201809472008-09-10T20:14:00.005+02:002011-01-15T21:33:46.228+01:00Closin' ShopWe have made the difficult decision to close up shop on this little blog for now. It's been a blast, but we need to set it aside for now. To be honest, we have too much on our plates right now.<br /><br />We're not going to delete it though, and maybe someday we'll be back. If you want to keep up with us, we'll both be posting (as we can) on our blogs: <a href="http://heatherbetween.blogspot.com">Heather Between</a> and <a href="http://troymarbles.blogspot.com">t(r)oymarbles</a>.<br /><br />Thanks for reading!Troy and Heather Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02271314161195023720noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6019217122806774839.post-7276705867662465962008-09-04T19:37:00.003+02:002008-09-04T19:47:34.772+02:00Painting<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkHjh_jz5gqaqucKj_zbuhFsU3TCDGhDUu0UM9ZpTJqe72uCB7yLw9pJdZAMTFI_6iP-dUIDvHRmXSmWV0xwtOF3QfF11d7Gc7w1y4AArPLwNukW47pwBxVDA2P1wG01ZTJDcb001ibAw/s1600-h/Troy+said.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkHjh_jz5gqaqucKj_zbuhFsU3TCDGhDUu0UM9ZpTJqe72uCB7yLw9pJdZAMTFI_6iP-dUIDvHRmXSmWV0xwtOF3QfF11d7Gc7w1y4AArPLwNukW47pwBxVDA2P1wG01ZTJDcb001ibAw/s320/Troy+said.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239642366400836978" border="0" /></a>My friend Matt can create watercolor paintings like nobody’s business. I have great admiration for the way he can control watercolor paints because that is something I’ve never been able to do.<br /><br />My mom has bought and completed more than a few paint-by-number kits. It sticks in my memory that she has actually done DaVinci’s Last Supper. Tacky, I know, but it does confirm the secret code theory that’s been circulating these days.<br /><br />Far from being the “fine artist”, I’m at my best painting walls. I abhor the prep work, though. Taping off all the baseboards, outlets, radiators and light switches is not my cup of tea.<br /><br />I do insist on quality paint. There’s nothing worse than painting with thin, cheap stuff. When we first moved in to our flat two years ago, we painted the whole place with a type of paint you mix yourself. You buy a bag of paste, add water and color. It worked okay for lighter colors but we wanted to do some walls in a deep red. The red ended up looking more purplish and chalky. So, we decided to bite the bullet and buy a more expensive ready-mixed brand. Coating the walls with that stuff was sheer pleasure. It was worth the price.<br /><br />If there’s one skill I wish I could add to my repertoire it would be the ability to create stunning works of visual art, painting included. Alas, I don’t think it’s “in the cards” for me, though. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV8T23D0x5PYlimGAA8wR-7cZJhjZtJd7JgxHYYft-rOcxEwVcc9O4xgZqy5Q2cfLtipMSG5TNsZt1Vdo7_YucWRCdF1AMeh5XJNZxhIFHI5gJi4JvseNndQcKMZnrdBiGc1lHJ8Vdmic/s1600-h/Heather+said.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV8T23D0x5PYlimGAA8wR-7cZJhjZtJd7JgxHYYft-rOcxEwVcc9O4xgZqy5Q2cfLtipMSG5TNsZt1Vdo7_YucWRCdF1AMeh5XJNZxhIFHI5gJi4JvseNndQcKMZnrdBiGc1lHJ8Vdmic/s320/Heather+said.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239642357581348178" border="0" /></a>A lot of what I know about painting, I learned from Troy. In the world of painting, I married up. Not only does he have a lot of knowledge about painting, he does a really good job at it, through the whole process. It never fails that he is the one that does the clean-up; washing out the brushes, wiping up spills, picking up drop cloths. I’m a consummate slacker when it comes to painting. I like the actual painting and you can even get me to do some prep, like taping. But once the wall looks all purty, I’m done.<br /><br />When we moved into our current apartment, our landlord gave us permission to paint the whole place however we wanted. In Spain you can buy this cheap paint goop that you mix with color and water. It’s a bit crazy, but it works out pretty cheaply. We had fun mixing our own colors. Nic got a sunny yellow, Meg got a pinky purply sort of color, and the rest of the house is kind of café au laitish. Except for the red. We painted our bedroom red, as well as one wall in the living room. For those, we had to buy real honest to goodness premixed paint, because the cheap stuff did not cut it when it came to red.<br /><br />I have to say, knowing that the cheap paint goo exists is dangerous because sometimes I daydream about new and exciting color schemes!Troy and Heather Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02271314161195023720noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6019217122806774839.post-6212887300256213592008-09-01T17:45:00.004+02:002008-09-01T20:39:48.161+02:00September<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV8T23D0x5PYlimGAA8wR-7cZJhjZtJd7JgxHYYft-rOcxEwVcc9O4xgZqy5Q2cfLtipMSG5TNsZt1Vdo7_YucWRCdF1AMeh5XJNZxhIFHI5gJi4JvseNndQcKMZnrdBiGc1lHJ8Vdmic/s1600-h/Heather+said.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV8T23D0x5PYlimGAA8wR-7cZJhjZtJd7JgxHYYft-rOcxEwVcc9O4xgZqy5Q2cfLtipMSG5TNsZt1Vdo7_YucWRCdF1AMeh5XJNZxhIFHI5gJi4JvseNndQcKMZnrdBiGc1lHJ8Vdmic/s320/Heather+said.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239642357581348178" border="0" /></a>Oh, September. The dog days of summer are gone (what on earth does that mean, anyway? Why thank you, Mr. Google for <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dog_Days">this</a> information) and the brutal routines of school mornings are back. The temps are still a bit too warm for comfort and going all day without a nap is killer.<br /><br />This September is full of newness for our family. Meg and Nic are in a new school, which is quite a distance away. In order to save money, they ride with a teacher. He has to be there early, so on the most brutal days, they have to get up at 6:30 and leave by 7:15.<br /><br />It’s full of growing-up kids. Meg is going to Middle School camp with her class tomorrow and won’t be home until Thursday. She’s been helping me pack school lunches, something we’ve never had to do. Today we picked up her new phone (for emergencies, not gabbing with friends) so that eventually she and Nic can take the metro without us but still be able to get help if they need it.<br /><br />September has more limbo in it than normal for me this year. If I get the school job I am hoping for, I have most of September to get my life together. If I don’t, I probably need to start looking for something else. I’d be really happy to know, one way or another.<br /><br />I’m looking forward to the part of September that brings crisp air and cool nights.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkHjh_jz5gqaqucKj_zbuhFsU3TCDGhDUu0UM9ZpTJqe72uCB7yLw9pJdZAMTFI_6iP-dUIDvHRmXSmWV0xwtOF3QfF11d7Gc7w1y4AArPLwNukW47pwBxVDA2P1wG01ZTJDcb001ibAw/s1600-h/Troy+said.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkHjh_jz5gqaqucKj_zbuhFsU3TCDGhDUu0UM9ZpTJqe72uCB7yLw9pJdZAMTFI_6iP-dUIDvHRmXSmWV0xwtOF3QfF11d7Gc7w1y4AArPLwNukW47pwBxVDA2P1wG01ZTJDcb001ibAw/s320/Troy+said.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239642366400836978" border="0" /></a><br />September loosens<br />its sweaty grip<br />on summer<br />out of necessity.<br />Bright emerald leaves<br />pale with sometime dew.<br />The trees<br />begin to languish in confusion,<br />not knowing whether to count on sun or chill.<br />They begin to entertain thoughts of fatalism<br />but don’t want to give up just yet.<br /><br />Perceive a weak,<br />slow whisperleak<br />in the air.<br />Change is imminent.<br /><br />September is<br />the kindest kind of cruelty imaginable.<br />She is the now and not yet.<br />She is the house half-built.<br />She demands prayer.<br />In September,<br />the builder begs<br />for resolve<br />to finish what was started<br />before the cursing season takes over<br />and the last chance skips away smug.<br /><br />September is<br />the epic novel that is<br />a mere three chapters shy of completion.<br />She is the teasing promise.<br />She asks you to trust her,<br />but does so with<br />a concealed wink and cross of fingers.<br /><br />September is<br />the sigh that comes after sighing.<br />She is the nap<br />when you should be rising<br />and the wakening<br />when you should be reclining.<br /><br />September is<br />the unavoidable call-to-arms,<br />suddenly interrupting furlough.<br />September is my coach, but<br />I am a novice runner<br />wishing to delay my training<br />just one more day.<br /><br />In September,<br />too many cars return to the city.<br />Crane anxiously for a parking place.<br />You are a wheeled hamster.<br />Circle four more times.<br />Eventually an oil-stained spot will open.<br /><br />Hope has its basis in September,<br />but it is forced.<br />Still,<br />hold on to this.<br />Thank heaven<br />hope is not utterly deferred.Troy and Heather Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02271314161195023720noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6019217122806774839.post-14138001013715696552008-08-29T19:29:00.008+02:002011-01-15T16:29:42.702+01:00Firsts<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieQL7kbEic9XHcSiE8yZsZ-szH0-BOwIByxXo-UXtUwgEEYJAx8ER9X8-fHqS3ScgBxJA2fmiAmc2aA4YC5AhwpImX5P3KMvf_A7FS07t1dfIf37Ezh_qe6qshIaL3eG5cZsXSm0NHjmM/s1600-h/Troy+said.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieQL7kbEic9XHcSiE8yZsZ-szH0-BOwIByxXo-UXtUwgEEYJAx8ER9X8-fHqS3ScgBxJA2fmiAmc2aA4YC5AhwpImX5P3KMvf_A7FS07t1dfIf37Ezh_qe6qshIaL3eG5cZsXSm0NHjmM/s320/Troy+said.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239993355898862882" border="0" /></a><br /><br />First CD I bought:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.ls.net/files/image/cats__logo_4C.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.ls.net/files/image/cats__logo_4C.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Yeah, uh huh: cuz that was worth the money.<br /><br />First vinyl album I bought (before CD’s existed):<br /> <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlFn2EGPth7-LCXnM6oJ7io5-hGoBp7MdMJRw5ahht_zAc6Z8u8HTVcGYfT2LxEzxjuXBRx2gKIUGrKsNpG-rSvTVaCHGbb-T4fNabvPlwMugQQvVPF9sfDRa1lcbGLLILOh2NlgDLeyY/s1600/billy_squier-dont_say_no.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 382px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlFn2EGPth7-LCXnM6oJ7io5-hGoBp7MdMJRw5ahht_zAc6Z8u8HTVcGYfT2LxEzxjuXBRx2gKIUGrKsNpG-rSvTVaCHGbb-T4fNabvPlwMugQQvVPF9sfDRa1lcbGLLILOh2NlgDLeyY/s400/billy_squier-dont_say_no.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562434812366412658" /></a>Ain’t he cute?<br /><br />First job: feeding two golden retrievers down the block from us when I was 8. This job resulted in my first savings account, believe it or not. This is why I'm a millionaire today.<br /><br />First dog we had when I was a kid: a Pekingese Poodle named Fonzie.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6m1vOp_LhHR4CydrUy-lVMc9VmJ2T3Qsc7ifTBLQL_mYvIUJghzfHIHzJNJWzeNeAef1PDxZeEUhnusrN3nmkFNX7UH4tyxGdhDYSbsfvhoNxhB0sTjlZULVbJC3Ck-6-7S23Ioxc0ko/s1600/pekingese_anasatasovska.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 350px; height: 338px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6m1vOp_LhHR4CydrUy-lVMc9VmJ2T3Qsc7ifTBLQL_mYvIUJghzfHIHzJNJWzeNeAef1PDxZeEUhnusrN3nmkFNX7UH4tyxGdhDYSbsfvhoNxhB0sTjlZULVbJC3Ck-6-7S23Ioxc0ko/s400/pekingese_anasatasovska.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562434636059599762" /></a>We got rid of him pretty quickly cuz he bit me. I didn’t taunt him, I swear. Cuz I was a well-mannered little scamp, dontchyaknow.<br /><br />First full-length play I performed in:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOU9W3g42fH-1cBz98OhTt4LW_xm3gyOR9fQmR9sn_pxX57Ng_VZFNghmVhPculx2UljRV3z_eR1dPXQS1y4doAHumwra7Fb96T-Nej-kJRcN3fL5E6mksgNIH_Dfzymngqhre1EkpvtQ/s1600/howtosucceed62web.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOU9W3g42fH-1cBz98OhTt4LW_xm3gyOR9fQmR9sn_pxX57Ng_VZFNghmVhPculx2UljRV3z_eR1dPXQS1y4doAHumwra7Fb96T-Nej-kJRcN3fL5E6mksgNIH_Dfzymngqhre1EkpvtQ/s400/howtosucceed62web.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562434379177502914" /></a>My character’s name was Bud Frump. The name “Frump” tells you what kind of person he was. It wasn’t typecasting. I think.<br /><br />First school: Sunset Terrace Elementary in Rochester, Minnesota.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.rochester.k12.mn.us/school101/images/b19_img12_26020.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.rochester.k12.mn.us/school101/images/b19_img12_26020.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>This is where I first sniffed glue.<br /><br />First time overseas: spent most of my time in Birmingham, England. Cuz, yeah, Birmingham has such a booming tourism industry.<br /><br />First time I kissed Heather: in Henry Hallgren’s basement while watching this movie:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://postlapsarian.files.wordpress.com/2008/05/amadeus001.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://postlapsarian.files.wordpress.com/2008/05/amadeus001.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>We necked because this flick is such a romantic movie.<br /><br />First time I rode on a plane: I was 17.<br /><br />First job in ministry: part time youth pastor at Evangel Baptist Church in Wheaton, Illinois.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.evbapt.org/photos/MBC2007/002.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.evbapt.org/photos/MBC2007/002.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>I wore a tie and pretended to be sophisticated.<br /><br />First car I owned: an old station wagon. I bought it for $1 from my pastor in Minnesota. I’m not sure I didn’t get ripped off.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij2XkOu0wnkXytLUZ9wBPuWOoOq8s64kkDW2se4nNWMYzFUyZns9aNnZAlxwxR10URqr_n5Pz203VARFkgparY4tDe9ZfvoMWRusyPHNT4JP0QgK22zzx9mpxdstyf5uCAGYbPj3eUEqU/s1600-h/Heather+said.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij2XkOu0wnkXytLUZ9wBPuWOoOq8s64kkDW2se4nNWMYzFUyZns9aNnZAlxwxR10URqr_n5Pz203VARFkgparY4tDe9ZfvoMWRusyPHNT4JP0QgK22zzx9mpxdstyf5uCAGYbPj3eUEqU/s320/Heather+said.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239993353807956514" border="0" /></a><br />The first time I ate sushi, I was hooked.<br /><br />The first time I left my family, I flew from Toronto to London, England.<br /><br />The first time I saw Two Towers, I had nightmares that night about Orcs chasing me.<br /><br />The first time I was ever in the hospital was to have my gall bladder removed.<br /><br />The first time I saw a positive sign on a pregnancy test was 30 months after we started trying to get pregnant.<br /><br />The first dog I ever “owned” was a Pekinese puppy named Pal that my parents gave me for my 1st birthday.<br /><br />The first time I slept in a water-bed, I knew I wanted one.<br /><br />The first time I tried Dr. Pepper was in a motor home we were driving from Florida to Michigan one furlough. I had a sip of my Dad’s and the rest is history.<br /><br />The first car I ever drove was a Subaru station wagon.<br /><br />The first car Troy and I owned was a behemoth electric blue station with a saggy driver’s seat. We called her Sally.<br /><br />The first boy I really kissed was Troy. (He’s the last, too)<br /><br />The first time I rode a horse was on a ranch in Western Canada where my Dad used to work.<br /><br />The first movie I ever saw in a theater was Sound of Music. My parents snuck us out of my grandparents’ apartment in Toronto because they didn’t approve of going to the movies.Troy and Heather Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02271314161195023720noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6019217122806774839.post-5656679944860404632008-08-28T20:46:00.006+02:002008-08-28T20:59:56.018+02:00Dessert<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV8T23D0x5PYlimGAA8wR-7cZJhjZtJd7JgxHYYft-rOcxEwVcc9O4xgZqy5Q2cfLtipMSG5TNsZt1Vdo7_YucWRCdF1AMeh5XJNZxhIFHI5gJi4JvseNndQcKMZnrdBiGc1lHJ8Vdmic/s1600-h/Heather+said.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV8T23D0x5PYlimGAA8wR-7cZJhjZtJd7JgxHYYft-rOcxEwVcc9O4xgZqy5Q2cfLtipMSG5TNsZt1Vdo7_YucWRCdF1AMeh5XJNZxhIFHI5gJi4JvseNndQcKMZnrdBiGc1lHJ8Vdmic/s320/Heather+said.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239642357581348178" border="0" /></a><p class="MsoNormal">We don’t normally eat dessert after meals in our house (unless you count our son who asks for a cookie at 9:30 on Saturday mornings when he ate breakfast, oh, 45 minutes before.) When I was growing up, dessert was reserved for when we had company. Normally we just ate another spoon of mashed potatoes or something if we wanted something more to eat.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Since I don’t enjoy baking, I was happy to carry that tradition on with my own family. If they do want something sweet after a meal, their choices usually consist of yogurt or a store-bought cookie. Nothing but the finest for my family.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Here are my favorite desserts, if I don’t have to make them myself:<br />Tiramisu (My favorite is at La Finca de Susana here in Madrid.)<br />Brownies (from a box is just fine.)<br />April’s warm chocolate chip cookies.<br />Kim’s chocolate cakey pudding thingies (do you notice a trend in the fact that OTHER PEOPLE make these?)<br />Ice cream (not vanilla, unless there is plenty of chocolate sauce).<br />Cheesecake (Carolyn’s, with caramel sauce whenever possible. Or <a href="http://www.cafelatte.com/desserts.html">Café Latte’s</a> chocolate raspberry. I’m warning you, don’t click that link unless you can get in your car and go over there. RIGHT NOW.)<br />In a pinch, a few squares of Valor’s sugar free dark chocolate with almonds.</p><p class="MsoNormal">And now I need to go run 100 miles, if you’ll excuse me. Except, oh yeah, I don’t run any more than I bake. Oh well!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkHjh_jz5gqaqucKj_zbuhFsU3TCDGhDUu0UM9ZpTJqe72uCB7yLw9pJdZAMTFI_6iP-dUIDvHRmXSmWV0xwtOF3QfF11d7Gc7w1y4AArPLwNukW47pwBxVDA2P1wG01ZTJDcb001ibAw/s1600-h/Troy+said.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkHjh_jz5gqaqucKj_zbuhFsU3TCDGhDUu0UM9ZpTJqe72uCB7yLw9pJdZAMTFI_6iP-dUIDvHRmXSmWV0xwtOF3QfF11d7Gc7w1y4AArPLwNukW47pwBxVDA2P1wG01ZTJDcb001ibAw/s320/Troy+said.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239642366400836978" border="0" /></a> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>I had to ask Heather if the topic she selected was to be written in the singular form or the plural form. She opted for the singular, but I think it should be plural. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>This tells you how much I like me a heap o’ dessert. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>My fav: strawberry shortcake.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>If I cannot get that, I will settle for:<br />-brownies<br />-ice cream—any kind except coffee flavored<br />-cookies, especially homemade peanut butter or chocolate chip or Christmas cookies or snickerdoodles or ginger snaps or snickerdoodles. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>Yes, I’m aware I’ve written the word “snickerdoodles” twice. It’s such an interesting word I just couldn’t pass up writing it again. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>I also like cake, any kind: chocolate, white, yellow, marble, purple or limestone. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>I adore pie, almost any kind: apple, cherry, blueberry, pumpkin, banana cream.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>Cobbler’s awesome too, but could someone settle an issue that has perplexed me no end? What’s the difference between </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>-apple cobbler<br />-apple crisp<br />-apple crumble</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>Finally, no post on dessert would be complete without mentioning the fond memories I have eating mom’s pumpkin bars with cream cheese frosting and her bundt cake. I love the word “bundt” also. If someone could come up with a bundt snickerdoodle cake, that would make me extremely happy. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>To sum up: I like dessert so much I think that if I couldn’t get anything “proper” I’d likely settle for a spoonful of raspberry jam. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Troy and Heather Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02271314161195023720noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6019217122806774839.post-51992159842133880572008-08-25T10:32:00.001+02:002008-08-25T10:32:47.979+02:00Out of TownWe're going on a working retreat with our team in 5 minutes, and we didn't get anything written for today. We'll be back on Wednesday!Troy and Heather Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02271314161195023720noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6019217122806774839.post-11775780809219729142008-08-21T12:29:00.008+02:002011-01-15T16:40:05.678+01:00Donuts<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt7yLmsyX-clejq9iSmfldaMfqZ6bPbz5GlL9i4w7hhjRUOszFap3zJSxSEsYp6foBwAHcCRX7br30YGf_Q8BTu5zi38dqazxpA__ig9PaMY43Kc58NQg6_M_D8G9GibDNUrg2nRftO1E/s1600-h/Troy+said.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt7yLmsyX-clejq9iSmfldaMfqZ6bPbz5GlL9i4w7hhjRUOszFap3zJSxSEsYp6foBwAHcCRX7br30YGf_Q8BTu5zi38dqazxpA__ig9PaMY43Kc58NQg6_M_D8G9GibDNUrg2nRftO1E/s320/Troy+said.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236916601957125618" border="0" /></a> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>Please help me solve one of life’s greatest mysteries: should we spell it “doughnut” or “donut”? </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>On the one hand, I think the first spelling is better because they’re made of dough.<span style=""> </span>But that theory breaks down because they don’t always have nuts. In some ways the second spelling makes more sense, because Homer Simpson, who loves donuts, often says, “Doh!” –and he’s a nut.</p> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://justgiving.typepad.com/photos/uncategorized/homer2_2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://justgiving.typepad.com/photos/uncategorized/homer2_2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a> <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://ejcross.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/12/homer_simpson_doh_02.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://ejcross.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/12/homer_simpson_doh_02.gif" alt="" border="0" /></a><p class="MsoNormal">The only problem with that theory is: the extra “H” in the spelling. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>Therefore, I propose a spelling change to: DOHnut. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>Now that that enigma has been unraveled I can get to more important matters. I hereby declare that the best DOHnuts in the world can be found at the Minnesota State Fair.</p><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fuieu0LaA9A/RuPzcw7vJUI/AAAAAAAAACQ/YWXEC7SsR7k/s1600/minidonuts.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fuieu0LaA9A/RuPzcw7vJUI/AAAAAAAAACQ/YWXEC7SsR7k/s1600/minidonuts.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><p class="MsoNormal">For starters, these DOHnuts come in a small bag that crackles when you put your thumb and forefinger in, thereby adding to the intrinsic classiness of the DOHnut-eating experience. They’re always hot and greasy. They’re sprinkled with sugar and melt in your mouth. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>My grandma used to make sugared DOHnuts with leftover mashed potatoes. Believe it or not, they were delish. <span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>After those tasty delights, I prefer Krispy Kreme and then Dunkin’ Donuts.</p> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmEkJmV4uHkbHtTOCYcFwQA1CStb2wJ02QnWNYXoxS12PFBp3zQJdEPC-fo9G-9qtfI_UBeCHiPgtIi4x3cjU7183uQMH7PMN9JDFmXO2n1NcQgMN7P5jVkN3zw-lzjZ7AfdXjyOvS5RM/s1600/krispy_kreme.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 350px; height: 350px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmEkJmV4uHkbHtTOCYcFwQA1CStb2wJ02QnWNYXoxS12PFBp3zQJdEPC-fo9G-9qtfI_UBeCHiPgtIi4x3cjU7183uQMH7PMN9JDFmXO2n1NcQgMN7P5jVkN3zw-lzjZ7AfdXjyOvS5RM/s400/krispy_kreme.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562437751112949826" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.theunticket.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/03/dunkin_donuts_3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://www.theunticket.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/03/dunkin_donuts_3.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><p class="MsoNormal">I like all varieties, including:</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>-Powdered<br />-Classic glazed<br />-Chocolate glazed<br />-Glazed jelly filled<br />-Powdered jelly filled<br />-Frosted maple<br />-Blueberry cake<br />-Long Johns<br />-Cinnamon with apple filling<br />-Custard filled<br />-Glazed with Veggiemite filling</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>Now you have two questions to respond to: how do you spell DOHnuts, and which one is your fav?</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiojIBiWCIMA3Nm5-roJQcHS6Pwg3Pz5Pct03X4cfJoEhP66mgpzLBWkD3gRVJOYiDtaZRN3Q3YhPD5-SZnm3TA_pYpcxfMngXv1P5U0lXj9Riw3tZVPozxpOp_u8PvXN_iayQ-YVqvOMo/s1600-h/Heather+said.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiojIBiWCIMA3Nm5-roJQcHS6Pwg3Pz5Pct03X4cfJoEhP66mgpzLBWkD3gRVJOYiDtaZRN3Q3YhPD5-SZnm3TA_pYpcxfMngXv1P5U0lXj9Riw3tZVPozxpOp_u8PvXN_iayQ-YVqvOMo/s320/Heather+said.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236916613916171346" border="0" /></a><p class="MsoNormal">I’m a little dismayed that Troy chose this topic because now I want to get on the bus and go over to Dunkin Coffee (that’s what they call them in Madrid now) and stuff a donut or 3 in my face. And also some of their little crispy hash brown thingies because you can’t get them anywhere else in Spain. But that’s sort of off topic.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Although I will occasionally divert to eating a filled donut, I almost always stick to plain ole’ glazed. They have always been my favorite. If I can get a warm Krispy Kreme, I’m happy, but I’ll take a Dunkin’ if necessary.</p><p class="MsoNormal">My first job in North America was waitressing at a shop in Brantford, Ontario. This is quite bemusing actually, because the clear boss in Canadian donut circles is Tim Horton’s. But I didn’t work for them. I don’t think Mr. C’s is open any more. We did indeed serve MORE than donuts though. Personally, I enjoyed the apple muffins, and the beef pot pies because they had NO peas in them. Actually, it was just full of tasty beef. I would smear the top with ketchup and salt and pepper. Yummy! Oops, again, off topic.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Personally, I consider it a great accomplishment that I know how to roll fresh donuts in powdered sugar, then use the fancy filling dispenser and fill them to bursting with apple, strawberry or raspberry filling. It’s probably the most valuable job skill I have!</p>Troy and Heather Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02271314161195023720noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6019217122806774839.post-43552118928707710552008-08-21T11:42:00.004+02:002008-08-21T11:54:49.930+02:00Back to School<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjYocKj-CzAYxQdYR_OxKDJd84174mAneiDr93daAjCDCTNy8cTHWMAQInGFGQxpKQ6pvrQ6HKi7E-6NCQrVSHUpmfViBXTv1w4ULHg7vrP7VrSYr762Zo8oXP9ccPCa2zUSd-rbx4phA/s1600-h/Heather+said.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjYocKj-CzAYxQdYR_OxKDJd84174mAneiDr93daAjCDCTNy8cTHWMAQInGFGQxpKQ6pvrQ6HKi7E-6NCQrVSHUpmfViBXTv1w4ULHg7vrP7VrSYr762Zo8oXP9ccPCa2zUSd-rbx4phA/s320/Heather+said.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236904549299281378" border="0" /></a> <p class="MsoNormal">I enjoy the whole “back-to-school buzz”. Normally I have to limit my exposure to the aisles of new notebooks, pens, pencils, erasers, backpacks, etc. because if I don’t I could fill a shopping cart and cause my bank balance to suffer from hunger pangs. This year has kind of snuck up on me because our kids are starting school almost two weeks earlier than they normally do. I’m not sure how prepared we are, but we’ll see I guess. This year I’ll have to pack lunches, and we won’t have school uniforms so that will be an adjustment for all of us.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">When I was growing up I enjoyed school, and I was always excited about going back to school. Almost without fail I would wake up about 17 times during the night, nervous that I had overslept and was going to be late for the big day. My new outfit would be all picked out, my bag packed and all that jazz. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">I think that for me, part of the thrill of going back to school was the reunion. Some of my friends would be gone for the summer months, so I was always excited to get to see them again.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I am enthused about the return to routine again. Not so much about the early mornings! Also enthused about my children not being together 24/7. I’m ready to take a break from being the referee.</p> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9KhlwaqvGgAgxKEz55TATAVclSCnEgAEb1DSbJY9QxZ61f7ulY2JcTJLzy4gjo-usunqbkOB570rPevp8APRzZIzvGTdE-UrIvQzaBz4COo7vpYgJlUHu6pMW-3HH_dx-TwUrCAIykC4/s1600-h/Troy+said.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9KhlwaqvGgAgxKEz55TATAVclSCnEgAEb1DSbJY9QxZ61f7ulY2JcTJLzy4gjo-usunqbkOB570rPevp8APRzZIzvGTdE-UrIvQzaBz4COo7vpYgJlUHu6pMW-3HH_dx-TwUrCAIykC4/s320/Troy+said.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236904549703095218" border="0" /></a> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>Summer provides a nice break, but I’m a creature of habit so I rather enjoy the scheduled regularity of the school year. I like the “early-to-bed-early-to-rise” rhythm of the week. I also find intentional learning stimulating and enjoy seeing my kids learn new things. I even enjoy working with them on their homework. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>When I was a kid, I always knew the beginning of the school year was imminent because I’d get a new pair of shoes. There’s nothing like the suggestive power of new shoes: I believed they could honestly help me run faster and jump higher. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>As I got older, the first day of school provided occasion to jockey for position in the classroom based on one of two criteria: </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>A. Either I’d look for a good friend and sit next to them<br />or<br />B. I’d look for a pretty girl and sit next to her. Yes, I was a nerd, but I fancied myself a regular Casanova.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>I remember the first time I attended a school that involved changing classrooms for each period and using lockers. Compared to primary school, junior high felt huge; and, compared to junior high, high school felt gi-normous, so I was nervous: “What if I don’t make it to class on time? What if I get lost?” I remember walking quickly through the hallways, heart beating rapidly, eyes focused only on what was in front of me so as to get to my locker and to the next class without incident. </p>Troy and Heather Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02271314161195023720noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6019217122806774839.post-63390290837824853152008-08-18T18:16:00.006+02:002008-08-18T18:26:41.933+02:00Public Transportation<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj1sSSYNm5mI2VIjvNpK2M1m0KHJtySH-MwaJTWsZU0PEe5AHKEtG_0Ilo8BEKtU52Hom4u93D2bt7NLk3xqz2yhZLbrcphqiexxBPpxLL__tkADSr4sGBTfW6dQGwZJWXS2D17mnX6Lw/s1600-h/Troy+said.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj1sSSYNm5mI2VIjvNpK2M1m0KHJtySH-MwaJTWsZU0PEe5AHKEtG_0Ilo8BEKtU52Hom4u93D2bt7NLk3xqz2yhZLbrcphqiexxBPpxLL__tkADSr4sGBTfW6dQGwZJWXS2D17mnX6Lw/s320/Troy+said.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235892474891257618" border="0" /></a> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>Living in <st1:place>Europe</st1:place> these past ten years, I’ve grown accustomed to public transportation. It is now officially my preferred method of transport, apart from walking. In some ways, we’ve gotten spoiled now, because it drives me crazy how you have to drive everywhere in North <st1:country-region><st1:place>America</st1:place></st1:country-region>.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>There is one minor drawback, however, to most public transport systems. It forces you to classify people into one of two categories: runners or non-runners. I’ll explain: about 50 percent of the time a bus or train pulls up to the platform at such a moment as to make it feasible for you to run and catch it, or—if you simply walk—you’ll miss it by less than a second, forcing you to wait for the next one to come (which can sometimes be up to 20 minutes—in the case of some busses—and sometimes even an hour in the case of some trains). </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>You can guess I’m of the “running” persuasion, while Heather is of the “I’d-prefer-to-be-slower-than-a-slug-on-barbiturates” persuasion. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>Last night, we had this discussion with a pair of friends that are married. He, interestingly enough, aligns himself with the wiser of the two sides (that is, the “if-I-miss-this-train-my-life-is-over” side), while his wife sides with my wife. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>Out of curiosity, which tendency do you lean towards? Run for it (because, yes, life is to be lived like a competition) or just keep walking (because, yes, it’s fun to see your spouse frustrated no end)?</p><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxFQPNiudrv-rPDedUVMWgYuPNPMtIVVjU0VDKht-ERO9ALrOi9jRH7MTqgR8jq5MoUY7U1hKcz68NN9xAQSZtia4sU-NVjhlqtb9zaWbv9l20PtOlxvPwyT1a8_XhxYaP6E9_AVw-ajA/s1600-h/Heather+said.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxFQPNiudrv-rPDedUVMWgYuPNPMtIVVjU0VDKht-ERO9ALrOi9jRH7MTqgR8jq5MoUY7U1hKcz68NN9xAQSZtia4sU-NVjhlqtb9zaWbv9l20PtOlxvPwyT1a8_XhxYaP6E9_AVw-ajA/s320/Heather+said.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235892475822132610" border="0" /></a><p class="MsoNormal">I am a complete convert to public transportation, but that is mostly because I started using it here in Spain, where it is much more developed than any place I have ever lived before. I did experience random pockets of it while I was growing up; taking the bus to the downtown part of Quito because it was a nightmare to drive/park there, taking the subway around Toronto when we visited my Grandparents there.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Even though we own a car, we use public transportation in Madrid probably 95% of the time. Madrid has an amazing system of metro (subways) and bus. I love the freedom, the low cost, and the knowledge that we’re doing our part to lessen our impact on the environment.</p><p class="MsoNormal">I prefer the bus to metro. Even if it takes longer, I love to ride around and look at beautiful Madrid. Dark tunnels, not so much. Plus, I can deal with a crowded bus much better than I can deal with a crowded metro. If I have to be smashed up against strangers, I really prefer to be able to look past them and see something other than a dark wall.</p><p class="MsoNormal">I almost cannot cope if the metro stops in the middle of the tunnel between stops and sits there. It makes me claustrophobic, paranoid and jittery. Me no likey.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Also, unless there is no avoiding it (like there is no chance I’ll be on time unless I do) I do not run for buses or trains.Troy and Heather Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02271314161195023720noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6019217122806774839.post-57668029634190382682008-08-15T15:44:00.004+02:002008-08-15T15:50:03.150+02:00Naps<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA-Gg3JaLU3Wls3RQWPpIPNd8Ri9-SsTooPpwkjimuzIVaTma9hFDUKLQG54BsmSyDXi6FL7L46x5ylMYec_BNzT4k6S2e2S8W8MB2JdNkWUFmQd-wzMnNNAA_7UmMVus0zxU69nXeKlU/s1600-h/Heather+said.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA-Gg3JaLU3Wls3RQWPpIPNd8Ri9-SsTooPpwkjimuzIVaTma9hFDUKLQG54BsmSyDXi6FL7L46x5ylMYec_BNzT4k6S2e2S8W8MB2JdNkWUFmQd-wzMnNNAA_7UmMVus0zxU69nXeKlU/s320/Heather+said.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234740196939094594" border="0" /></a>I am not aware of any time in my life that I did not dig naps. Maybe when I was a kid, but I doubt it. Even in high school, Sunday afternoons in my house involved naps for my parents and I. My brother was not a big fan, but that worked out OK as he got older because he would make pie on Sunday afternoon. Definitely a win-win situation.<br /><br />Anyway, I love naps. I used to require at least a 2-hour time-slot for a nap. Anything less and I would just end up feeling cheated. Or I would spend the whole time wondering if I really had enough time to get a decent amount of sleep. Because oh no, I don’t waste time worrying about ridiculous things.<br /><br />Lately, I have learned to accept and even grow to love power naps into my life. Maybe it’s my age, but a 20 minute snooze where I am more in la-la land than really sleeping can be remarkably restorative.<br /><br />Here is the deal though, I must be at least 90% horizontal for a nap to happen. The couch works, my bed works, the hammocks on the balcony work. Sitting up does not work. Please make a note.<br /><br />And now if you’ll excuse me, I have time for a power nap before company comes!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjDkhqmtAwuOT73HKCdaFnnMZQLPnYUCABtQRRwm4U2fS7cOhT0mjKQZVyudClqr0LRvj5U6RDsstdKz2LhhGoolhBRdlWfmrlaXvg_3E5IbLegAT9Occ_XUraczqdCD7lktWQ8XXEEnw/s1600-h/Troy+said.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjDkhqmtAwuOT73HKCdaFnnMZQLPnYUCABtQRRwm4U2fS7cOhT0mjKQZVyudClqr0LRvj5U6RDsstdKz2LhhGoolhBRdlWfmrlaXvg_3E5IbLegAT9Occ_XUraczqdCD7lktWQ8XXEEnw/s320/Troy+said.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234740197467213730" border="0" /></a> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>When I take naps, I tend to take “power” naps. I lay down and “close my eyes” (that’s the expression I use) for 15-20 minutes and then get back up again. It’s pretty rare for me to take a nap of greater duration than one hour. It’s a funny thing, though, because usually I have to be feeling pretty drowsy to lay down and snooze, but by the time I actually put my head on the pillow I catch my second wind, or when I actually lay down, my mind starts racing with all the things I need to do which makes me unable to rest peacefully.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>Chances are, if a nap lasts an hour or longer, it’s because I just lay down on the couch and doze off. The act of actually going to a bed to nap revives my energy. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>My nap-taking quotient also tends to come and go in a seasonal fashion. Seems like I will go for months without taking a single nap and then, wham, all of a sudden I’m feeling generally tuckered out and will feel like I need one every day for a period of 6-8 weeks. Today happens to be one of those days I feel like taking a nap. In fact, a couple hours ago I said I was going to take one but then I got going on other stuff and the nap got lost in the shuffle.</p>Troy and Heather Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02271314161195023720noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6019217122806774839.post-41389111537132639672008-08-13T20:54:00.009+02:002011-01-15T16:51:36.690+01:00Magazines<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf36D6LGuF4flwwIdTco2dcS9A1_tgIBBtXi2VCs9T1JxcE-HF9xf8VDxzPr_OV5aC1K2eetKb0PqUAnU2pgFDnYu5jo_uWx8g3sV806dSW0yB2exNx8q4-b6xZjblqJcbIgPpEtzWb8o/s1600-h/Troy+said.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf36D6LGuF4flwwIdTco2dcS9A1_tgIBBtXi2VCs9T1JxcE-HF9xf8VDxzPr_OV5aC1K2eetKb0PqUAnU2pgFDnYu5jo_uWx8g3sV806dSW0yB2exNx8q4-b6xZjblqJcbIgPpEtzWb8o/s320/Troy+said.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234078189544003666" border="0" /></a>If we had more money, I think I’d be a magazine junkie. Here are some of the magazines I would subscribe to: <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>-Time<br />-Newsweek<br />-Reader’s Digest<br />-Sports Illustrated<br />-Christian History<br />-Christianity Today<br />-Leadership Journal<br />-National Geographic<br />-The New Yorker<br />-The <st1:place>Atlantic</st1:place></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>I don’t think I’d be interested in having subscriptions to People or Us or other “celebrity gossip” magazines, but I must say that if I’m sitting next to someone that’s leafing through one, I will look over their shoulder to get the latest mud. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>At various times we have had subscriptions to Newsweek, Reader’s Digest and Christianity Today but, to be honest, it’s too expensive keeping up with it all so we tend to use the internet a lot more now, since most of these magazines put much of their content online anyway. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>Awhile ago I bought a CD-Rom containing 45 issues of Christian History, so that pretty much serves as my “nerd fix” for the rest of my life. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>When I was a kid I enjoyed leafing through magazines of high art. Sneaking peaks at my brother's *ahem* Playboy magazine collection that he had hidden underneath his mattress happened to be one of my preferred *ahem* "reads". You can be sure that one is off my list now.<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>I also liked Archie comics:<br /></p><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd6rCeDosKnEp0u1YPBGPrAT66B2idyDTkxwANFWhGbKvQ1xSOJGLkjRhZDMysUwcNw6DSs28O0twcwfhGRB27RwYgPURyxc6NelrvHO7BkjvOKp6LAixIRZXA30JfyWDwwa2MwibK5iA/s1600/Archie-comics.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 271px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd6rCeDosKnEp0u1YPBGPrAT66B2idyDTkxwANFWhGbKvQ1xSOJGLkjRhZDMysUwcNw6DSs28O0twcwfhGRB27RwYgPURyxc6NelrvHO7BkjvOKp6LAixIRZXA30JfyWDwwa2MwibK5iA/s400/Archie-comics.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562440764486220498" /></a>And I think my all-time favorite is….(drum roll, please)…Mad Magazine. If you’ve never heard of it, here are a few cover designs. You’ll get the picture in no time.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEC_d1tE-JQhNFbK2MHvlViUxE34zSQXkwXabY-3UtF7p4poVZzzuRKk8q4hh-Zhvx8O5YPM1bzjnO_VdSSFGjLSbq88KPJZlWpcaHrcFom4vrcALfagPupu5H769TJOvJM7NN9PYCC20/s1600/mad_magazine_01.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 307px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEC_d1tE-JQhNFbK2MHvlViUxE34zSQXkwXabY-3UtF7p4poVZzzuRKk8q4hh-Zhvx8O5YPM1bzjnO_VdSSFGjLSbq88KPJZlWpcaHrcFom4vrcALfagPupu5H769TJOvJM7NN9PYCC20/s400/mad_magazine_01.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562439877214107810" /></a>(I also like how the price of the magazine is "$1.00 CHEAP". Here's another one that'll give you a chuckle.)<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3220/2343493921_1af37807ed.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3220/2343493921_1af37807ed.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKp3SArIkgbmX9wPihCsQmcXhJ4PpdgqG9AaiwJBFcS8oUWsX4bqNpO2biyeo3MFIYdapeyRLkBfQTVt62dzJm6izec3DBNJdFKllRkDEI_paCUFt5yUdHI21kv4HtisWY2nj0PHYoK0U/s1600/MAD_Magazine_487.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 232px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKp3SArIkgbmX9wPihCsQmcXhJ4PpdgqG9AaiwJBFcS8oUWsX4bqNpO2biyeo3MFIYdapeyRLkBfQTVt62dzJm6izec3DBNJdFKllRkDEI_paCUFt5yUdHI21kv4HtisWY2nj0PHYoK0U/s400/MAD_Magazine_487.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562440193288204770" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRIex0t2TSvAL7Xd1VKqUIyJNh0-rqgkGy30afhkk-7oTsK3tQhr2_Jf4zUYaLz8d9gObRzr-sQ2v3pYbsfNTEgl8pnaouTp-PBOwB-aUroIahEYGqBspCtefCDilFEPuVq1Y8nJxq5mI/s1600-h/Heather+said.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRIex0t2TSvAL7Xd1VKqUIyJNh0-rqgkGy30afhkk-7oTsK3tQhr2_Jf4zUYaLz8d9gObRzr-sQ2v3pYbsfNTEgl8pnaouTp-PBOwB-aUroIahEYGqBspCtefCDilFEPuVq1Y8nJxq5mI/s320/Heather+said.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234078117697556946" border="0" /></a><p class="MsoNormal">I love magazines. When I was in college, I worked as the periodical assistant in our college library, which got me forever hooked. It was my job to check the new periodicals in, put an orange dot on them and stamp them with the “Northwestern College Library” stamp and then shelve them. If I had time, I would read them on my lunch hour before they were put into circulation.</p><p class="MsoNormal">I have had a life-long friendship with Reader’s Digest; I grew up with them in the house (along with the Reader’s Digest condensed books). Almost without fail, when I arrive in America, my first treat is a copy of Reader’s Digest, and Good Housekeeping. I love having fresh new magazines to read on the plane. Recently we were visiting friends in the military, and one of my treats was the current Good Housekeeping.</p><p class="MsoNormal">When we lived in the US, I had a few subscriptions over time. I think I subscribed to a few parenting magazines when Meg was born, and some cross-stitch magazines. We subscribed to Newsweek for awhile when we lived in Barcelona.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Nowadays we don’t have a single subscription, which may be a good thing because we don’t have much space either. Thankfully, a lot of magazines now have online issues, which I can see from Madrid, and don’t kill trees.</p><p class="MsoNormal">But I’m still always thrilled when Lucy sends me her issues of Today’s Christian Woman.</p>Troy and Heather Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02271314161195023720noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6019217122806774839.post-83903148920845387532008-08-11T19:59:00.007+02:002008-08-11T21:12:36.006+02:00Olympics<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9KI9C8Wq4UZEhEsGYqxqbSCNgctR9uyvm8TfWQHMraSHplu8DKx3y3VmiC8lZvWnp0iuzPa-iXT6k7YQ4xbAd1vhyphenhyphenZoPi2O8AESToM8ZGUvcufYRtsmCBmg285ClfzIAEpPHRtw-ngIs/s1600-h/Heather+said.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9KI9C8Wq4UZEhEsGYqxqbSCNgctR9uyvm8TfWQHMraSHplu8DKx3y3VmiC8lZvWnp0iuzPa-iXT6k7YQ4xbAd1vhyphenhyphenZoPi2O8AESToM8ZGUvcufYRtsmCBmg285ClfzIAEpPHRtw-ngIs/s320/Heather+said.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233321678505502578" border="0" /></a>I can’t remember when the Olympics started registering on my radar. Again with the MK and TV thing, but I don’t remember really being that aware of them when I was growing up. I obviously KNEW they existed but I don’t remember watching them really until after Troy and I were married.<br /><br />I have to admit, I’m a bigger fan of the winter games. I like the ice-skating especially, but I seem to be more drawn to the winter sports than summer ones. I can hardly stand to watch the diving, since that diver years (decades even?) ago hit his head on the diving board. I get too stressed out.<br /><br />This year it has been fun because Meaghan and Nicolas, but especially Meg, have been very interested in watching the games. In true TCK (third culture kid) fashion, Meg roots for both Spain and the US (and recently commented that we should root for “my” countries, Canada and Ecuador as well.) I’ve been working this week, so haven’t gotten to watch too much, but Meg has been giving me updates. I HAVE seen some basketball (with the gi-normous Chinese player on the men’s team) cycling, (Spain won a gold!) swimming and right now we are watching tennis. Spain’s player Rafa Nadal is playing. He’s smokin’ (as a tennis player, not in cuteness.)<br /><br />Clearly, I have well-informed, articulate opinions on the Olympics.<br /><br />I DO love Cool Runnings, does that count?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoU88Zz8nsu9p6i92prFRg67H9g5MW6fmptzZnc08EtuqtF49wTPxs1AFPShQE6q1hnUR6dbn_UMZZkjO308cwuq9E7hHR1x8eD_BggAafmhZI0jA1lR4XdK5iUrbWCdbYnBmnwUZ2uN4/s1600-h/Troy+said.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoU88Zz8nsu9p6i92prFRg67H9g5MW6fmptzZnc08EtuqtF49wTPxs1AFPShQE6q1hnUR6dbn_UMZZkjO308cwuq9E7hHR1x8eD_BggAafmhZI0jA1lR4XdK5iUrbWCdbYnBmnwUZ2uN4/s320/Troy+said.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233321794297503362" border="0" /></a> <p class="MsoNormal">I prefer the winter Olympics. I realize that’s politically incorrect, seeing as the summer Olympics are now in full swing, but it’s the truth. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>My favorite sport is ice hockey and I have fond memories of the 1980 <st1:country-region><st1:place>U.S.</st1:place></st1:country-region> team whooping the Russians. That was one day I really was proud to be an American.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>Now that I’ve gotten the shameless patriotism out of my system…Currently, I am watching the tennis match between Rafa Nadal and someone whom I only have referred to as “some Italian schmuck”. It’s not that I have anything against the Italian’s; it’s just that Nadal just won Wimbeldon, and he IS a Spaniard, and we ARE living in Spain, so I pretty much have to refer to ANYONE Nadal plays as “a schmuck.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>Anyhoo…I also enjoy watching basketball and volleyball, so there are two points in favor of the summer Olympics, but let’s face it: bobsledding is one heckuva crazy sport, as is skiing and ski jumping and…Yeah, the winter Olympics pretty much kick the big dimpled butt of the summer Olympics. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>It has been fun seeing our kids get into the Olympics this year. This is the first year on record I can honestly remember them noticing the Olympics so it has been fun seeing them cheer for various teams. Interesting: they always cheer for <st1:country-region><st1:place>Spain</st1:place></st1:country-region> and for <st1:country-region><st1:place>America</st1:place></st1:country-region> when they play, but I have yet to see what they’ll do when the two play against each other. Time will tell.</p>Troy and Heather Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02271314161195023720noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6019217122806774839.post-39238594456615613982008-08-08T20:18:00.012+02:002008-12-09T17:32:35.715+01:00Kool Aid<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgbRFtr31NtM9nednswXdCFFuhecVXIyM6MMuQXwkwnyVM6rlGOoa83q7I5eRv0_i5TQrbiZ95vwoGX91kbHYXGetf0yjqnOYElEnvl_z6Fr_5ZPtxifYYhFc9KDmoapNofhv5s3cnYOg/s1600-h/Troy+said.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgbRFtr31NtM9nednswXdCFFuhecVXIyM6MMuQXwkwnyVM6rlGOoa83q7I5eRv0_i5TQrbiZ95vwoGX91kbHYXGetf0yjqnOYElEnvl_z6Fr_5ZPtxifYYhFc9KDmoapNofhv5s3cnYOg/s320/Troy+said.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217335236335889298" border="0" /></a><p class="MsoNormal">I could guzzle gallons of this stuff and never get tired of it. My favorite is grape; then orange; then cherry. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>I have had some bad experiences with Kool Aid but this was simply because the person who made it skimped on the sugar ration. I cannot overstate how crucial it is that one use copious amounts of sugar when preparing unsweetened Kool Aid.<span style=""> </span>Of course, if you are using the pre-sweetened version, simply make sure you don’t over-dilute the powder base. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>I’ve always loved the Kool Aid Guy.</p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUYb9QB0diBCi3yTIXksfe6VF37cbLZDK-bj9hnxw0JNBxcfmezDn52p1q8luwnMkYGCuU0SOnkqc0TcnmFb4DYwRHuyd_8IVi6_Bc3CATHl6ymzrQBf-9LIawa6u9htph6pfgyDtRzfA/s1600-h/kool_aid.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUYb9QB0diBCi3yTIXksfe6VF37cbLZDK-bj9hnxw0JNBxcfmezDn52p1q8luwnMkYGCuU0SOnkqc0TcnmFb4DYwRHuyd_8IVi6_Bc3CATHl6ymzrQBf-9LIawa6u9htph6pfgyDtRzfA/s320/kool_aid.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5232213887461753778" border="0" /></a><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span>If I had a Kool Aid Guy costume I’d go dancing around town, making people happy, pouring them Kool Aid. I think there should be many, many, many more Kool Aid people in this ol’ world. I hope my kids grow up to be Kool Aid dancers.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>I also like Kool Aid because it gives you a nice Kool Aid mustache if you drink it correctly. When I drink Kool Aid I am so happy I just want the world to know and a Kool Aid mustache is a fun way to do that. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>Finally, I like the fact that Kool Aid is spelled with a “K”. I think that’s very clever and have always wanted to ask the creators of Kool Aid why they chose that spelling. I’m sure there is probably some sophisticated reason and I think if I found it out I would have uncovered a Deep Secret.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWolF80IgFEUdWkdp4xsqeZ6XgnXZtXuNN0mDMI3_ecvTkOKaz-H29Tu25IDb0Q_tkHoSHNh1EzQdxpdjLlY2ZOcsTtV3FkOeFcpp_cwKf66PTNY5CrYZQmMolJjSMCFcNPngRawqv1WE/s1600-h/Heather+said.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWolF80IgFEUdWkdp4xsqeZ6XgnXZtXuNN0mDMI3_ecvTkOKaz-H29Tu25IDb0Q_tkHoSHNh1EzQdxpdjLlY2ZOcsTtV3FkOeFcpp_cwKf66PTNY5CrYZQmMolJjSMCFcNPngRawqv1WE/s320/Heather+said.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5232233810233113698" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal">I must have had a deprived childhood, because I don’t get the whole Kool-aid thing. I actually think it’s pretty gross, to tell you the truth. From my babysitting experience, I also know that it stains like crazy, which is a really stupid attribute to give a drink for kids. Kids. I have never bought Kool-aid for my own kids. I also think it’s annoying to make because you have to add sugar to it. Kind of defeats the point of an “instant” drink, no?</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br />We recently got given a few packets of generic kool-aid stuff, and my hubby and kids are in rapture. I opened the fridge the other day and it reeked of grape kool-aid. Mmmmm, tasty. Not. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><br />When I was a kid and we would go on furlough, I was also kind of wigged out by the commercials featuring the giant Kool-aid pitcher on wheels that would come blasting through a wall, or some such thing. I could never really understand why the kids were so happy to see it, and did not run away screaming.</p><p class="MsoNormal">As a poor deprived missionary kid, I was subjected to Ecuador’s version of Kool-aid, Yupi. See?<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img.alibaba.com/photo/11260222/Instant_Powder_Juice.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://img.alibaba.com/photo/11260222/Instant_Powder_Juice.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal">We drank the peach flavor. It was marginal, but passable.</p><p class="MsoNormal">My hubby and kids are also fans of Tang. GAAAHHH! Recently we found maracuya (passion fruit) flavor, which was the least disgusting powdered mix drink I’ve had lately. My ridiculous daughter thinks that the Tang is better than FRESH maracuya. </p><p class="MsoNormal">As Bill Cosby would say, BRAIN DAMAGE.</p>Troy and Heather Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02271314161195023720noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6019217122806774839.post-60934034452898452162008-08-06T19:25:00.011+02:002008-12-09T17:32:36.208+01:00Top 10 Summer Foods<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuAKsTXA-x86ME9ZCttvFfxPM-_RiNYk4qPtH2RubA3ef0GrztHqyuEWHIh58l0XEFD-PUS3Y8hwdVRpl_GquTiFAhJWt0Hb7Xfj3FrC3b1p1CZfnTvJ-2CubtlVwzdr9mYJwhUj4f-Z8/s1600-h/Heather+said.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuAKsTXA-x86ME9ZCttvFfxPM-_RiNYk4qPtH2RubA3ef0GrztHqyuEWHIh58l0XEFD-PUS3Y8hwdVRpl_GquTiFAhJWt0Hb7Xfj3FrC3b1p1CZfnTvJ-2CubtlVwzdr9mYJwhUj4f-Z8/s320/Heather+said.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186524847323456834" border="0" /></a>There are certain foods that I associate with summer, and some of them are not that readily available in Spain. So in honor of summer eating, here are my top ten favorite things to eat during summer.</p><p class="MsoNormal">1. Fresh raspberries. I love raspberries more than any other berry. When I CAN find them in Spain they are usually pretty pricey. I love being able to pick them and eat them. When we were in Germany recently I picked a couple of wild ones but they were sour and sort of buggy.</p><p class="MsoNormal">2. Broccoli/cauliflower/bacon/mayo salad. I know there must be an official name for this salad that everyone brings to potlucks and picnics, but I don’t know what it’s called.</p><p class="MsoNormal">3. Corn on the cob. I.love.this. It’s my all-time favorite thing to eat at the Minnesota state fair. They cook it on a rotisserie grill thingy and then dip the whole ear in a vat of melted butter. It’s also good if you cook it in the microwave still in the husk.</p><p class="MsoNormal">4. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">KFC</span> coleslaw. I have never found a coleslaw I like as much.</p><p class="MsoNormal">5. Pink lemonade, you know, the kind that is frozen in a can.</p><p class="MsoNormal">6. Lucy’s potato salad. The perfect potato salad.</p><p class="MsoNormal">7. Anything on the grill, but the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">bacon-wrapped filet mignons</span> I used to buy at Sam’s club are my favorite.</p><p class="MsoNormal">8. Deviled eggs. With dry mustard, not yellow.</p><p class="MsoNormal">9. Bread and butter pickles, preferably made by my sister-in-law.</p><p class="MsoNormal">10. Ice cream. Always wonderful; best in summer.</p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2RDnwxaMPM6RJq2dYmFCpnpWpAursEfclubp7M1ywcdkKSljovxnA-UV0PI_hhiAoeYi44A50wShJXA3jf2y4-lcwhtUHU16XcSfCGO_ftBNzaPRcgTbvR2UZFCMbYB0s9elQm-egEIs/s1600-h/Troy+said.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2RDnwxaMPM6RJq2dYmFCpnpWpAursEfclubp7M1ywcdkKSljovxnA-UV0PI_hhiAoeYi44A50wShJXA3jf2y4-lcwhtUHU16XcSfCGO_ftBNzaPRcgTbvR2UZFCMbYB0s9elQm-egEIs/s320/Troy+said.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186524851618424146" border="0" /></a><p class="MsoNormal">Since food is a serious thing, I’ll start with a disclaimer: let’s assume, shall we, that I already get to include certain foods as a foundation while at the same time not “eating into” my list of top 10 summer foods—pun intended. This foundation would include:</p><p class="MsoNormal">-Hot Tamales (thanks Megan!)<br />-Powdered donuts<br />-Bacon strips<br />-Bacon bits<br />-Beef wrapped in bacon<br />-Toast<br />-Bacon and Tomato on toast<br />-Cap’n Crunch<br />-Cap’n Crunch with bacon bits</p><p class="MsoNormal">Now that I’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">ve</span> gotten the foundational health foods out of the way, here are my top 10 summer foods, in no particular order:</p><p class="MsoNormal">1. Sweet corn on the cob<br />2. Lemonade<br />3. Watermelon<br />4. Popsicles<br />5. Chicken chutney salad (yes, I do have some class)<br />6. Sangria<br />7. Roasted marshmallows<br />8. Dill pickles</p><p class="MsoNormal">The last two require some explanation:<br />9. Raspberry cobbler with vanilla ice cream: when I was a kid, we picked wild raspberries and brought them to my aunt. She’d make cobbler with them. It was delicious.</p><p class="MsoNormal">10. Fresh fish, caught from the lake, batter-fried by my brother Todd. He’s quite the fish fryer. <span style=""> </span>Writing this makes me miss him just now.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>Yes, summer food does have its attachments.<span style=""> </span>Some of these foods we can’t really get in Spain, so when we have the chance to partake, it is truly a treat.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Happy eating, everyone! We'd love to hear what your top ten are.<br /></p>Troy and Heather Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02271314161195023720noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6019217122806774839.post-43414777211813808532008-08-04T19:20:00.003+02:002008-12-09T17:32:36.423+01:00Writer's Block<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgbRFtr31NtM9nednswXdCFFuhecVXIyM6MMuQXwkwnyVM6rlGOoa83q7I5eRv0_i5TQrbiZ95vwoGX91kbHYXGetf0yjqnOYElEnvl_z6Fr_5ZPtxifYYhFc9KDmoapNofhv5s3cnYOg/s1600-h/Troy+said.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgbRFtr31NtM9nednswXdCFFuhecVXIyM6MMuQXwkwnyVM6rlGOoa83q7I5eRv0_i5TQrbiZ95vwoGX91kbHYXGetf0yjqnOYElEnvl_z6Fr_5ZPtxifYYhFc9KDmoapNofhv5s3cnYOg/s320/Troy+said.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217335236335889298" border="0" /></a> <p></p><p class="MsoNormal">I rarely get writer’s block. Perhaps that’s because, as Heather says, brevity of speech is not my strong suit.<span style=""> </span>Frequently I need to cut my original drafts for He Said/She Said in half (since we give ourselves a limit of 250 words). I wrote a drama once, aiming for a 15 minute piece, and discovered, while practicing, that it was actually 30 minutes. So, I cut it in half. It was painful to do so but rewarding at the same time, since it gave me lots of back story to go on in portraying the role. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>Even though I know it’s different, I liken writer’s block to forgetting a line in a play. In college, my drama coach told me that if I ever dropped a line I should just say whatever popped into my head to keep the scene moving forward. “In fact,” she pointed out, “you could just blurt out ‘I’ve got a turkey coming in the mail!’”<span style=""> </span>Believe it or not, 90 percent of the time it would actually jostle my brain to recall the real line I was supposed to say. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>With that, I’ll close this post by saying, “I’ve got a turkey coming in the mail!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>Now, magically, I’ve got in mind what I really wanted to say about writer’s block, but since I’ve used up my 250 words, you all will just have to use your imagination as to what I was going to say. See ya Wednesday!<br /></p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFvBaL6RUWdWihQ_WrCQWqJEKaWU5ZwjMecs5E6WFr9uHhhnaQrTFKmC8uUZjEqDqHF7oAaIq-s9shziZBmzUB9FOa76MzXYr8EmLNn1K2uuI4H4_6JkuX4eo6F9aRkLgvEwNm6tFX97U/s1600-h/Heather+said.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFvBaL6RUWdWihQ_WrCQWqJEKaWU5ZwjMecs5E6WFr9uHhhnaQrTFKmC8uUZjEqDqHF7oAaIq-s9shziZBmzUB9FOa76MzXYr8EmLNn1K2uuI4H4_6JkuX4eo6F9aRkLgvEwNm6tFX97U/s320/Heather+said.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217335236870141010" border="0" /></a><p class="MsoNormal">Maybe I should just claim that I have writer’s block right now and then I would be done! Woo hoo! But I guess that would be el-lamo. So I won’t.</p><p class="MsoNormal">I have to say that I used to be a much more prolific writer than I am now. When I was young I used to write constantly; poems, short stories, letters, you name it. I don’t know what happened, but I often have trouble getting words out of my head.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Strangely enough, I have more trouble when I try to write on paper than when I’m on my computer. Maybe it’s because I have gotten used to being able to edit at will or something. It actually makes me kind of sad though that I can’t open a new notebook and have words flow onto the page like I used to. Part of me just thinks I need to make myself do it but that’s not much fun either.</p><p class="MsoNormal">I often seem to be able to write great things in my head. And then they just won’t. come.out. Stupid brain.</p><p class="MsoNormal">OK, it’s 99ish degrees in Madrid, I kid you not. My brain is mush. That is all.Troy and Heather Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02271314161195023720noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6019217122806774839.post-79899007133916383122008-07-21T22:43:00.002+02:002008-07-21T22:45:45.146+02:00We're Such SLACKERS!!!!Hey peeps, we were really trying to get ahead of things, but we didn't. We leave tomorrow for a few days of vacation and then we'll be at our annual conference with our mission after that. We'll be back WITHOUT fail on Monday, August 3. And we'll do our very best to make you snort your drink out your nose that day!<br /><br />Thanks!Troy and Heather Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02271314161195023720noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6019217122806774839.post-18520329960824536552008-07-18T14:24:00.003+02:002008-07-18T14:37:43.457+02:00100This is our 100th post, believe it or not! Hard to believe you have been putting up with us for that long! We're impressed when anyone even notices that we have been slacking and not posting regularly. (Rest assured, we will continue to try our utmost to stick with our thrice-weekly posting schedule. Thanks for your patience with us!)<br /><br />Anyway, to celebrate, we thought we'd let you put in your two cents' worth about what post you have enjoyed the most! Try and go with your gut reaction without going back to read them :) Have fun!<br /><br /><script type="text/javascript" language="javascript" src="http://s3.polldaddy.com/p/795413.js"></script><noscript> <a href ="http://answers.polldaddy.com/poll/795413/">Which He Said, She Said post is your favorite?</a> <br/> <span style="font-size:9px;"> (<a href ="http://www.polldaddy.com"> surveys</a>)</span></noscript>Troy and Heather Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02271314161195023720noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6019217122806774839.post-13302217547527903422008-07-16T13:24:00.003+02:002008-12-09T17:32:36.451+01:00Smell<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuAKsTXA-x86ME9ZCttvFfxPM-_RiNYk4qPtH2RubA3ef0GrztHqyuEWHIh58l0XEFD-PUS3Y8hwdVRpl_GquTiFAhJWt0Hb7Xfj3FrC3b1p1CZfnTvJ-2CubtlVwzdr9mYJwhUj4f-Z8/s1600-h/Heather+said.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuAKsTXA-x86ME9ZCttvFfxPM-_RiNYk4qPtH2RubA3ef0GrztHqyuEWHIh58l0XEFD-PUS3Y8hwdVRpl_GquTiFAhJWt0Hb7Xfj3FrC3b1p1CZfnTvJ-2CubtlVwzdr9mYJwhUj4f-Z8/s320/Heather+said.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186524847323456834" border="0" /></a>I have a really keen sense of smell. My nose is super sensitive to both good and bad smells; I can often smell things that others can’t. Maybe I have a superpower after all!<br /><br />I think smell is an amazing thing. It always amazes me how one whiff of something can transport you back in time to a specific place. I think a lot of our memories are made more poignant by the smells that go along with them.<br /><br />On the flip side, I think smells can be tortuous as well.<br /><br />Some smells I could do without:<br /><ul><li>Licorice</li><li>Burning rubber</li><li>Burnt hair</li><li>Lexi’s, um, “toots”</li><li>Mothballs</li><li>Leftovers that have been in the fridge too long</li><li>Wet dog</li><li>Fingernail clippings (sorry if that was too gross)</li><li>Beer</li><li>Nasty street corners baking in the hot Madrid sun</li></ul>I’ll end on a fresh and happy note! These are some of my favorite smells:<br /><ul><li>Freshly brewed coffee</li><li>Baking bread</li><li>Garlic, especially roasted</li><li>Honeysuckle (although it makes me sneeze like a crazy person)</li><li>Turkey and stuffing roasting in the oven</li><li>Fresh basil just pinched off the plant</li><li>Cinnamon</li><li>Sprigs of fresh mint</li><li>Lilacs</li><li>Chocolate</li><li>The air during and after a good rainstorm</li><li>Baby powder</li><li>Hot chocolate chip cookies</li><li>Just mowed grass (but, again with the sneezing)</li><li>My kids, after a bath or shower</li><li>Fallen leaves in autumn</li><li>Vanilla</li><li>Cotton sheets, line-dried in the sun<br /></li></ul><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2RDnwxaMPM6RJq2dYmFCpnpWpAursEfclubp7M1ywcdkKSljovxnA-UV0PI_hhiAoeYi44A50wShJXA3jf2y4-lcwhtUHU16XcSfCGO_ftBNzaPRcgTbvR2UZFCMbYB0s9elQm-egEIs/s1600-h/Troy+said.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2RDnwxaMPM6RJq2dYmFCpnpWpAursEfclubp7M1ywcdkKSljovxnA-UV0PI_hhiAoeYi44A50wShJXA3jf2y4-lcwhtUHU16XcSfCGO_ftBNzaPRcgTbvR2UZFCMbYB0s9elQm-egEIs/s320/Troy+said.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186524851618424146" border="0" /></a><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>Being an actor, I’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ve</span> learned that smell is more connected to emotion than sight. <span style=""> </span>Try it out now. In your mind’s eye imagine these scents:</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>Coffee<br />Fresh cut grass<br />The sea<br />Roast turkey<br />Perfume<br />Rain<br />A strawberry scented candle<br />Lilacs<br />Bacon<br />Spearmint<br />Puppy<br />Lemon<br />Shower gel<br />Pine<br />Chocolate<br />A lit match<br />Fresh tobacco</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>Okay, now imagine these smells:<br />Urine<br />Bad breath<br />Dirty socks<br />Cigarette smoke<br />Wet dog<br />Cooked cabbage<br />Moldy egg salad<br />A field covered in fresh manure<br />Insect <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">repellent</span><br />Skunk<br />Old carnival ponies<br />Sulfur<br />Stale, imitation crab meat<br />Zucchini gone bad<br />Rancid, uncooked potatoes<br />Mildew</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>My guess is: there were a handful of items from the first list that conjured positive emotions. Smell has the potential to actually make one feel less fearful even. By the same token, there were likely a handful of items from the second list that called forth negative emotions.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>Some of the scents, both good and bad, have particular memories attached to them and recalling these memories results in (quite often) strong emotional impulses. That’s why, depending on your experiences, some of the items from the first (“positive”) list may actually call forth <b style=""><i style="">negative</i></b> emotions, even though we tend to regard those scents as generally pleasant. For example, perfume: if you’re divorced and you imagine the perfume your ex-wife wore, this could have a negative effect. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>Interesting, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">isn</span>’t it? What are some other scents that you’d add to either list? Are there any scents from the first list you’d regard as negative?</p>Troy and Heather Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02271314161195023720noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6019217122806774839.post-55730571860273345762008-07-12T15:37:00.006+02:002008-12-09T17:32:36.474+01:00Golf<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgbRFtr31NtM9nednswXdCFFuhecVXIyM6MMuQXwkwnyVM6rlGOoa83q7I5eRv0_i5TQrbiZ95vwoGX91kbHYXGetf0yjqnOYElEnvl_z6Fr_5ZPtxifYYhFc9KDmoapNofhv5s3cnYOg/s1600-h/Troy+said.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgbRFtr31NtM9nednswXdCFFuhecVXIyM6MMuQXwkwnyVM6rlGOoa83q7I5eRv0_i5TQrbiZ95vwoGX91kbHYXGetf0yjqnOYElEnvl_z6Fr_5ZPtxifYYhFc9KDmoapNofhv5s3cnYOg/s320/Troy+said.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217335236335889298" border="0" /></a><p class="MsoNormal">When I was a kid I thought people who watched golf on television were freaks. “Why,” I thought, “would anyone want to watch something so boring?” It only took a few tries at the game myself to appreciate the brilliance of televised golfers. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Having said that, golf is one of those games with which I have a love-hate relationship. Most times when I go golfing (which isn’t often) I will be on, say, hole 7 of 9 and I will be muttering to myself, “Never again will I play this stupid game! I hate it! The ball never does what I want it to do!” But then, on hole 9, I’ll hit a brilliant shot right onto the green, close to the pin; or, I’ll sink a magnificent putt or nail a superb drive. And all of a sudden, my mood changes, and I fall into the trap every golfer falls into, thinking, “I can’t wait to come again!”<span style=""> </span>For some reason, that one good shot was worth it all. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">I’m actually not very good at golf. I consider it a good round if I can get one over par on a hole, because most times I’ll get two or three over. <span style=""> </span>I imagine that’s because I don’t get to play very much. If I had the chance to play more often and visit the driving range once or twice a week to hit a big bucket of balls, I imagine I’d cut my score by a third before long.</p><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFvBaL6RUWdWihQ_WrCQWqJEKaWU5ZwjMecs5E6WFr9uHhhnaQrTFKmC8uUZjEqDqHF7oAaIq-s9shziZBmzUB9FOa76MzXYr8EmLNn1K2uuI4H4_6JkuX4eo6F9aRkLgvEwNm6tFX97U/s1600-h/Heather+said.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFvBaL6RUWdWihQ_WrCQWqJEKaWU5ZwjMecs5E6WFr9uHhhnaQrTFKmC8uUZjEqDqHF7oAaIq-s9shziZBmzUB9FOa76MzXYr8EmLNn1K2uuI4H4_6JkuX4eo6F9aRkLgvEwNm6tFX97U/s320/Heather+said.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217335236870141010" border="0" /></a><br /><p class="MsoNormal">I have never played golf in real life. When I was a little girl, my parents would sometimes take us to a golf course in Quito on Sunday afternoons. It was on the side of Pichincha, and my brother and I loved to roll down the grassy hills. On our honeymoon, I followed Troy around a golf course in Red Wing, Minnesota. Was I a good wife or what? I have played mini-golf a few times and enjoyed it.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">I’m a regular golfer now, in my living room. I’m an OK golfer on the Wii, though no match for my hubby. The booger actually got a hole in one. On the Wii. He now gets annoyed if he can’t match his 9 under par score. I don’t like to play golf with him anymore. I think my best score is +1. I’m fairly certain that I could never golf successfully in real life. For one thing, I doubt I could muster the power to hit a ball (if I even managed to connect it to my club) more than 20 feet. However, I think I would do an excellent job of driving a golf cart! For now, I’ll stick to the Wii. It soothes my golf ego by complimenting me “Nice shot!” and “Nice on!” That’s enough for me. </p>Troy and Heather Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02271314161195023720noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6019217122806774839.post-20578484052118384782008-07-09T20:59:00.002+02:002008-12-09T17:32:36.489+01:00Books<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuAKsTXA-x86ME9ZCttvFfxPM-_RiNYk4qPtH2RubA3ef0GrztHqyuEWHIh58l0XEFD-PUS3Y8hwdVRpl_GquTiFAhJWt0Hb7Xfj3FrC3b1p1CZfnTvJ-2CubtlVwzdr9mYJwhUj4f-Z8/s1600-h/Heather+said.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuAKsTXA-x86ME9ZCttvFfxPM-_RiNYk4qPtH2RubA3ef0GrztHqyuEWHIh58l0XEFD-PUS3Y8hwdVRpl_GquTiFAhJWt0Hb7Xfj3FrC3b1p1CZfnTvJ-2CubtlVwzdr9mYJwhUj4f-Z8/s320/Heather+said.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186524847323456834" border="0" /></a> <p class="MsoNormal">I love books! I devour them. I read super fast, so they never last long enough for me. I’m always looking for something to read, although I have to limit myself somewhat. Once I get on a reading roll, I have a hard time doing anything else.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I was really happy to get a chance to read while we were on vacation. I raided CJ and Amy’s bookshelves and I was thrilled to get my hands on <i style="">A Thousand Splendid Suns </i>by <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Khaled_Hosseini" title="Khaled Hosseini">Khaled Hosseini</a>. I had been wanting to read it ever since I read <i style="">Kite Runner.</i> I think he is an amazing writer, and I think his stories are very important and need to be heard. So that was cool.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I also got to read <i style="">Gift from the Sea </i>by Anne Morrow Lindbergh, which is another one that has been on my list for awhile. I am definitely going to have to get my hands on a copy of that one. It’s a short little book, but it is packed with wisdom and words to live by. I am amazed that it was originally published in 1955! </p> <p class="MsoNormal">In my house there are two “classes” of books. Since we don’t have a public library with English books remotely near us, I buy books in the 1-3 euro room of used bookstores, but usually those are ones I plan on parting with. Then there are books we buy to keep. Mostly we buy those when we are in the U.S. <span style=""> </span>and can browse though used bookstores.<br /></p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2RDnwxaMPM6RJq2dYmFCpnpWpAursEfclubp7M1ywcdkKSljovxnA-UV0PI_hhiAoeYi44A50wShJXA3jf2y4-lcwhtUHU16XcSfCGO_ftBNzaPRcgTbvR2UZFCMbYB0s9elQm-egEIs/s1600-h/Troy+said.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2RDnwxaMPM6RJq2dYmFCpnpWpAursEfclubp7M1ywcdkKSljovxnA-UV0PI_hhiAoeYi44A50wShJXA3jf2y4-lcwhtUHU16XcSfCGO_ftBNzaPRcgTbvR2UZFCMbYB0s9elQm-egEIs/s320/Troy+said.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186524851618424146" border="0" /></a><p class="MsoNormal">First, I need to clear something up: It’s my fault we didn’t post yesterday. Now that my conscience is clear <span style="">*whew!*, we can address the topic at hand…</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><o:p></o:p>I love books. If I had enough money, I’d love to increase our budget for buying books five-fold. I could spend all day (literally!) in a Barnes & Noble bookstore. I’d go through the shelves of most sections book by book, if I had the time and, if I knew I could spend, say, 500 dollars in one go on purchases, I’d make a big fat list during my browsing, take the list home and carefully plot which ones I’d buy.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><o:p></o:p>My thematic priorities are as follows (pretty much in this order)…<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><o:p></o:p>Theology<br /></span><span style="">Poetry<br /></span><span style="">History<br />Classics<o:p></o:p><br />Philosophy</span><span style=""><o:p></o:p><br />Drama<o:p></o:p><br /><o:p></o:p>Children’s Books (from Dr. Seuss to “chapter books”)<o:p></o:p><br />Fiction (a wide variety)<o:p></o:p><br /><o:p></o:p>Biographies<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><o:p></o:p>I rarely read books more than once. If I refer to a book after I’ve read it, that’s only because I remember a particular passage and pull it off the shelf to find something very specific I need. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><o:p></o:p>Last note: I’ve always known a handful of Robert Frost’s poems before. I am just finishing up an anthology of Frost poems. He is very good. If you don’t know his stuff well, I encourage you to read him. <span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>Troy and Heather Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02271314161195023720noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6019217122806774839.post-87074979907630361762008-07-07T08:00:00.002+02:002008-12-09T17:32:36.498+01:00Swimming<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgbRFtr31NtM9nednswXdCFFuhecVXIyM6MMuQXwkwnyVM6rlGOoa83q7I5eRv0_i5TQrbiZ95vwoGX91kbHYXGetf0yjqnOYElEnvl_z6Fr_5ZPtxifYYhFc9KDmoapNofhv5s3cnYOg/s1600-h/Troy+said.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgbRFtr31NtM9nednswXdCFFuhecVXIyM6MMuQXwkwnyVM6rlGOoa83q7I5eRv0_i5TQrbiZ95vwoGX91kbHYXGetf0yjqnOYElEnvl_z6Fr_5ZPtxifYYhFc9KDmoapNofhv5s3cnYOg/s320/Troy+said.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217335236335889298" border="0" /></a> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>Our pool is just beneath us (literally), so our kids are keen on swimming every day. I guess when I was a kid I would have gone swimming every day, too, if I had had the chance, but I can’t recall being as fanatical about it as they are! Still, I can’t complain, because our pool is in the shade and it’s heated—two rare features in <st1:state><st1:place>Madrid</st1:place></st1:state>. This past week we’ve all gone swimming three times, and the kids have gone another time “alone”, contenting themselves with Dad merely sitting poolside, reading, instead of the usual playtime with them in the pool. We told them early<span style=""> </span>this season: “You will get more time in the pool this year if you’re okay with Mom and Dad not coming in with you!” So far, they’ve managed to cope with that arrangement.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>Even as an adult, I enjoy swimming more when some kind of game is involved. If we didn’t have kids, it’s likely I would rarely get in the pool, but since we do, I get in the pool more often because they’ll be goofy with me. We play ball or say silly things to each other under the water. They also enjoy jumping off my shoulders and swimming between my legs. All in all, I’m grateful we get to go swimming a lot this summer. Likely, we will frequent the pool every day in August, since <st1:state><st1:place>Madrid</st1:place></st1:state> typically feels like a fiery furnace that month. </p><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFvBaL6RUWdWihQ_WrCQWqJEKaWU5ZwjMecs5E6WFr9uHhhnaQrTFKmC8uUZjEqDqHF7oAaIq-s9shziZBmzUB9FOa76MzXYr8EmLNn1K2uuI4H4_6JkuX4eo6F9aRkLgvEwNm6tFX97U/s1600-h/Heather+said.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFvBaL6RUWdWihQ_WrCQWqJEKaWU5ZwjMecs5E6WFr9uHhhnaQrTFKmC8uUZjEqDqHF7oAaIq-s9shziZBmzUB9FOa76MzXYr8EmLNn1K2uuI4H4_6JkuX4eo6F9aRkLgvEwNm6tFX97U/s320/Heather+said.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217335236870141010" border="0" /></a> <p class="MsoNormal">We’re blessed to live in an apartment building with a swimming pool. Actually, our apartment is directly over the swimming pool, so if our floor ever gives way we’ll be in the pool , summer or not. It’s nice having it so easily accessible. But it can be the bane of my existence because it’s always hovering in the consciousness of the kids. They can hear the water splashing and are forever dropping comments about the LOVELY WEATHER and WHEW, I AM SO HOT TODAY.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">This year they have finally come to grips with the fact that they’ll get more swim time if they are content for us to take them down but not get in the pool with them. The kids both know how to swim and we have a lifeguard, but we don’t usually send them down on their own, even though everyone else does. If we aren’t in the mood to get in the pool, one of us will take a book down and sit on a bench while they swim.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I have to say though, if the weather stays this hot all summer, I might be getting in the pool more than normal. We are also spoiled because our pool is heated, so it doesn’t take your breathe away when you get in, and then the air actually feels nice and cool when you get out. And because the pool is literally under our apartment, but open to the sides, we don’t have to worry about sunscreen either!</p>Troy and Heather Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02271314161195023720noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6019217122806774839.post-49471025892844713702008-07-04T08:00:00.003+02:002008-12-09T17:32:36.702+01:004th of July<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhubtLoxvSEbigOE8xrD4bMkl6DRcBfTCt3DORAoGajWR_5q-c89M9SbVrrgyENlPMfPXJNY9d56sp7GhqbpX69KfxbxI7ODxKoXhu_v6khUoIzO4-jqrqau_gkkdnrXsWcF6IfLku4IVs/s1600-h/Heather+said.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhubtLoxvSEbigOE8xrD4bMkl6DRcBfTCt3DORAoGajWR_5q-c89M9SbVrrgyENlPMfPXJNY9d56sp7GhqbpX69KfxbxI7ODxKoXhu_v6khUoIzO4-jqrqau_gkkdnrXsWcF6IfLku4IVs/s320/Heather+said.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217332989954879826" border="0" /></a> <p class="MsoNormal">This year, we are celebrating the 4<sup>th</sup> in Germany, with some college friends. CJ is in the US military, but I can’t tell you any more because then he might have to kill me. And you. Just kidding. Sort of. Mostly I just don’t know, because I’m a bad friend.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Anyway, to be honest, we never really know quite what to do with the 4<sup>th</sup> of July, even when we are in America. The last time we were in the U.S. on the 4<sup>th</sup> of July we ended up getting together with fellow missionaries who had just moved back from Europe and watching the World Cup on TV. We’re so patriotic aren’t we? We did barbecue though, so does that count? And it was storming like crazy that day, so the only fireworks we saw were through the rain and in between lightning strikes on the way back from Denver to Colorado Springs.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">So this year we’ll be enjoying the festivities provided by the American military, in Germany. I don’t know exactly what, but perhaps we’ll have BBQ and hot dogs. I hope we have potato salad.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I don’t have strong feelings about the 4<sup>th</sup> of July, or any “patriotic” holiday from any of the countries that I have lived in. I always say (I know, it’s corny, but true) that I feel more like a citizen of the world than any particular country. That means I get to claim ALL the holidays!</p> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOoHzjBwAJ9zWc08gBcuFozfCzhz_IUf36bMtuUTF2cs9dMYzZZrk7JzH6ArmTGMW4zvtfaPZ4bJixUeHMb6XVg3DjYCcogTRb23_dUrT6IGLwVACeHZ0_CjLKQiJzZhqt10xVtOrQxDE/s1600-h/Troy+said.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOoHzjBwAJ9zWc08gBcuFozfCzhz_IUf36bMtuUTF2cs9dMYzZZrk7JzH6ArmTGMW4zvtfaPZ4bJixUeHMb6XVg3DjYCcogTRb23_dUrT6IGLwVACeHZ0_CjLKQiJzZhqt10xVtOrQxDE/s320/Troy+said.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217332994669564946" border="0" /></a> <p class="MsoNormal">I’m not super patriotic, but I do have fond memories of 4<sup>th</sup> of July celebrations when I was a kid. Up until the year I was 9, my family would go to <st1:place><st1:placename>Silver</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>Lake</st1:placetype></st1:place> in <st1:place><st1:city>Rochester</st1:city>, <st1:state>Minnesota</st1:state></st1:place> to witness the evening’s fireworks display. I’m sure that in reality <st1:city><st1:place>Rochester</st1:place></st1:city>’s show rates as average compared to other fireworks displays around the country but my heart remembers it as the best, brightest, most spectacular I’ve ever seen. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>We weren’t wealthy by any stretch of the imagination, but we always managed to get plenty of firecrackers, bottle rockets, roman candles, cherry bombs and sparklers. A 4<sup>th</sup> of July staple for us kids involved the following:<span style=""> </span>we’d lay two bottle rockets side by side on the street, light the fuse and see how far (and where) they’d go. Some would get stuck under a car, others would fly into a tree, and others would make it the full length of the block.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>I especially liked it when we went camping after the 4<sup>th</sup>, because inevitably we’d find a dead fish on the beach, place a firecracker (or two) in its mouth and watch the fun. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>Of course, no post would be complete without mentioning the delicious 4<sup>th</sup> of July fare: polish sausages, hamburgers, hot dogs, potato salad, devilled eggs, lemonade, root beer, ice cold dill pickles, and watermelon. Yum. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>This year, we’ll be on an American military base in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Germany</st1:place></st1:country-region> on the 4<sup>th</sup>. I imagine our kids will love it.</p>Troy and Heather Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02271314161195023720noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6019217122806774839.post-16992595909406585782008-07-02T08:00:00.005+02:002008-12-09T17:32:37.148+01:00Our dog<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXa04eeeXyR3MWq-UMMCCHPRDy97__J4Jpgdn65G2E2qzk06ZpOJHtxlT6_r-YIqd2X3zvy0-a7liWHQV258L1LnUaGgZC-L6UCx2g-GjC2MNVRbxkqi9WPmOdqZtPKqUzN4sYZFBH-SQ/s1600-h/Troy+said.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXa04eeeXyR3MWq-UMMCCHPRDy97__J4Jpgdn65G2E2qzk06ZpOJHtxlT6_r-YIqd2X3zvy0-a7liWHQV258L1LnUaGgZC-L6UCx2g-GjC2MNVRbxkqi9WPmOdqZtPKqUzN4sYZFBH-SQ/s320/Troy+said.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217324286494900658" border="0" /></a> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>…is smart, too smart for her own good.<br />…is cheeky.<br />…would make a nice football, if I were a punter.<br />…has eaten three pair of panties in one go.<br />…threw up the last pair of panties while I was receiving a ride home from a friend in our friend’s Lexus.<br />…is gross.<br />…farts.<br />…possibly has a reservoir of toxic waste in her intestines, from which her farts are produced.<br />…was licking our brown leather couch earlier today like it was a giant side of beef.<br />…likes to stick her nose in the garbage.<br />…likes to eat really disgusting things in said garbage, which I can’t mention here specifically, but the items in question begin with “mens” and end with “truation pads”.<br />…has been known to produce snot rags out her rectum.<br />…is often very cute.<br />…likes to have her paws rubbed.<br />…is loved much by our kids, which is the only reason she’s still alive today.<br />…gets to sit on our couch.<br />…is pretty.<br />…cannot be let off her leash.<br />…sometimes sounds like she’s speaking to us.<br />…will get up on all fours on top of our dining table, if we’re not watching her carefully.<br />…needs a bath right now like nobody’s business.<br />…is up for sale. Just kidding. Our kids wouldn’t allow it.<br />…has ears that could airlift her to <st1:country-region><st1:place>Egypt</st1:place></st1:country-region> should a strong enough wind catch them just so.<br />…ate the better part of our friend’s chicken dinner while we were away recently.<br /></p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3B7ON_6r1k_voGAHI1LXbH7m5deGAjqzpBcxdCGZEY6oKZcmscSiFM7VDtiCLpHL43x7qLgmtU0jEMUQis-GtGgKBghGw4aYapEB7GDAQ0tGzELIWbvtbSe_hAxNmUFz3wDP99kuCFJQ/s1600-h/Heather+said.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3B7ON_6r1k_voGAHI1LXbH7m5deGAjqzpBcxdCGZEY6oKZcmscSiFM7VDtiCLpHL43x7qLgmtU0jEMUQis-GtGgKBghGw4aYapEB7GDAQ0tGzELIWbvtbSe_hAxNmUFz3wDP99kuCFJQ/s320/Heather+said.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217324281589223938" border="0" /></a> <p class="MsoNormal">We have a beagle, Lexi. She turns six on July 5<sup>th</sup>. It’s a good thing her birthday isn’t on the 4<sup>th</sup> of July; I’m pretty sure that America would not be happy sharing its birthday with the likes of Lexi.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">We do love our dog; she is part of our family (in a dog sort of way). But she tries our patience in NUMEROUS ways. Unfortunately, she has enough smarts and cuteness to make her dangerous;<span style=""> </span>she seems like she should be well-behaved. Don’t be deceived by the cuteness. She also thinks she’s at least half human. Observe:</p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3055/2624452410_02e54411f7.jpg?v=0"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3055/2624452410_02e54411f7.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal">The best word I have to describe Lexi is “opportunist”. She is a master of making the most of even the tiniest chance to sneak into the garbage snout-first or stand on top of the dining room table.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">We generally don’t leave her with people unless we don’t care if they continue to like us after the fact. Recently our friends/neighbors offered to watch her for a weekend. We dropped her off, and after delivering a 50-minute discourse on her evil ways, we left. Over the course of the weekend, she learned to jump on the pedal of the garbage can (why do you think ours is on top of the dryer outside the kitchen?) so she could stick her snout in. She also stole some/all of a freshly roasted chicken. I didn’t ask for details. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Fortunately, they seem to still be willing to be our friends. However, this week, the dog is going to the kennel.</p>Troy and Heather Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02271314161195023720noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6019217122806774839.post-83413088828244918652008-06-30T08:00:00.001+02:002008-12-09T17:32:37.529+01:00Superpowers<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDMJ2f6CVrT340eS54OQCihChLKVTzSYSG_B5K5dmdZXY07vtpYLTQbhqUQcMs9dd5KeggRMr4uyBNWcFKMcT1aHzjpvP3WKTvsdDlGEVxBXkpOzVEmCtnYQhAKVeAqYHRIpuFpINlGdg/s1600-h/Heather+said.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDMJ2f6CVrT340eS54OQCihChLKVTzSYSG_B5K5dmdZXY07vtpYLTQbhqUQcMs9dd5KeggRMr4uyBNWcFKMcT1aHzjpvP3WKTvsdDlGEVxBXkpOzVEmCtnYQhAKVeAqYHRIpuFpINlGdg/s320/Heather+said.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217322379203768546" border="0" /></a> <p class="MsoNormal">Troy and I recently started watching Heroes, so I’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ve</span> been pondering the very important question “If I were a superhero, what powers would I want/have?” I know, this kind of deep thinking is a challenge in the summer heat, but sometimes you just can’t back away from the hard thought processes, you know?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I came up with the following list of powers I would like to have if I was a superhero:</p> <ul><li>The ability to move objects with my mind. This would come in really handy when it’s time to clean up the house.</li></ul> <ul><li>The ability to shrink. I would apply this immediately to all the fatty regions on my body.</li></ul> <ul><li>The ability to be invisible. I’d like to be able to disappear when I made a stupid comment. I’d also use it to spy on my children when I am curious about how they are acting (good, bad, cute or otherwise) when I’m not in the room.</li></ul> <ul><li>The ability to make others do whatever I want just by thinking it. Well, that seems pretty obvious to me!</li></ul> <ul><li>The ability to read minds. This one would be helpful so I would know if my children are being rebellious on the inside. It would also help me know when I should use the previous power.</li></ul> <ul><li>The ability to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">teleport</span>. I would love to be able to flit around Madrid and back and forth across the world instantly and easily. Especially when it’s too hot/cold/rainy/I’m too lazy.<br /></li></ul><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1s8TIPUKjU0nR_eSWyoNmYtFH5Z37wywry_1TyYwer6T8pdDH4HD3zxKs0eMSpUhaQC7FfPba_AuddEniFxJo8RGeWHS8qZU7HaHrKPftmiD5wkD5ClroT6hrdrZNw1jCy2W1yUSRGh4/s1600-h/Troy+said.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1s8TIPUKjU0nR_eSWyoNmYtFH5Z37wywry_1TyYwer6T8pdDH4HD3zxKs0eMSpUhaQC7FfPba_AuddEniFxJo8RGeWHS8qZU7HaHrKPftmiD5wkD5ClroT6hrdrZNw1jCy2W1yUSRGh4/s320/Troy+said.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217322377900682994" border="0" /></a> <p class="MsoNormal">I would like elastic ear lobes. That way, when it rained, I wouldn’t even need an umbrella.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>It would also have been nothing short of “super” if my brother had grown up with stink-free feet.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>I think it would also be neat to be able to eat as many boxes of Hot Tamales as one wants with no repercussions whatsoever. On second thought, throw in slabs o’ bacon to that diet and I would be a happy camper. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>Basically, when I think of superpowers, I want something that will enhance my life, make it easier. So, included in my superpower package I would like things like self-trimming toenails, self-cleaning ears, indestructible teeth, and static-length hair and beard. Also, I wouldn’t object to being able to run for as long as I want without getting tired, and the ability to retain word-for-word recall of anything I read. <span style=""> </span>Related to that: I’d like any writing ideas I get to write themselves. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>On a different topic: Another superpower I’d like would be the power to make people (ahem—my wife) laugh at all my jokes. <span style=""><br /></span></p>It also wouldn't hurt to have the ability to make money.Troy and Heather Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02271314161195023720noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6019217122806774839.post-75265337924577958612008-06-25T18:29:00.004+02:002008-12-09T17:32:37.809+01:00Tornadoes<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnp3PtI9A_TAKF9RNBMs1aXNBWS5BrgaZ1Q4UAL8JJQ3H5LPiz2Cf3w2L2ZkMk8RFcGB1B-e39S2QOY_O4yJAL-SbXuXwKyk1X4S3fkLV9WC-kFgSqvrKFrtbhEfZOX7iYZqVn13fOL1Y/s1600-h/Troy+said.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnp3PtI9A_TAKF9RNBMs1aXNBWS5BrgaZ1Q4UAL8JJQ3H5LPiz2Cf3w2L2ZkMk8RFcGB1B-e39S2QOY_O4yJAL-SbXuXwKyk1X4S3fkLV9WC-kFgSqvrKFrtbhEfZOX7iYZqVn13fOL1Y/s320/Troy+said.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212527913177707906" border="0" /></a> <p class="MsoNormal">Tornadoes are like spiders for me: I find them tremendously fascinating but terrifying. I was afraid of tornadoes before I even saw one. I think this happened because I took my cues from those older than me: One day I saw how freaked out my mom was that the sky was green and the air was suddenly still, so I got freaked out too. I remember being told to get in the basement and stay there until the danger passed. I remember the sirens that would sound in town whenever there was a tornado warning and I remember the high-pitched alert that came through the TV and the mysterious words that would appear when we were put on a “Tornado Watch”. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>I think storm chasers have to be among the craziest people in the world. The movie “Twister” first made me aware that there even were such people. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>When I was a kid I heard my mom say to someone once: “When a tornado is getting close, it sounds like a freight train.” That night, I awoke to the sound of a violent wind that sounded like a train, and I sat straight up in bed, convinced a tornado was making a bee-line for us. I ran to my mom’s room and told her a tornado was coming. She took me back to my room, which also happened to be the laundry room, and pointed out to me that it was just the washer spinning on high speed.<br /></p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJvHcZNNByufE_L1MI08mMu3cTVOJet7BIpD83jwGTDsjwMEpFN3jhh-7vxtxqQk9NR8T51QBCd7dhlOv_0-DvXCg8wtTJIOjdrvw2i0wcp3kYK5z7SKRiUGgpXgls4x6J35zDiM4eYSw/s1600-h/Heather+said.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJvHcZNNByufE_L1MI08mMu3cTVOJet7BIpD83jwGTDsjwMEpFN3jhh-7vxtxqQk9NR8T51QBCd7dhlOv_0-DvXCg8wtTJIOjdrvw2i0wcp3kYK5z7SKRiUGgpXgls4x6J35zDiM4eYSw/s320/Heather+said.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212527902477008594" border="0" /></a> <p class="MsoNormal">There are no tornadoes in Ecuador, so I grew up without them being part of my mindset. I find them freaky and fascinating at the same time. I can watch countless videos of them, but I’m pretty sure that if I saw one coming my way, I would not be standing around with my video camera.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">In some ways I think I’m actually a bit of a tornado snob. I’m much more impressed by the ones that are about a mile wide and seem like they can suck up whole cities in one gulp. I know the skinny ones can do damage too, but really, they are just so, SKINNY. I tried to find photos but I was wasn’t feeling, so just go with me here and use your imagination.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I’m glad we live in Madrid, where we can get a wicked good thunderstorm without having to worry about the potential of a mean-spirited cloud coming by to gobble up my world. And for the record, I think that tornadoes that happen at night are the meanest ones of all because you can’t even seen them coming.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The only thing I can say in defense of tornados is that at least they are somewhat predictable when the weather conditions are a certain way. That ranks them over earthquakes in my book, because you definitely can’t see an earthquake coming! No way, no how.<o:p></o:p> </p>Troy and Heather Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02271314161195023720noreply@blogger.com0