<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3498582538663589817</id><updated>2011-08-30T19:46:04.167-07:00</updated><category term='theology'/><category term='Girls'/><category term='fights'/><category term='kids'/><category term='humor'/><title type='text'>Estle (mis)Haps</title><subtitle type='html'>Take a peek at all the happenings around our house.  Good or bad, we're proud of them all.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Kendra Estle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07033887102220910461</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/Sa1jj7CkYNI/AAAAAAAAAGA/-m7kI-xnfcU/S220/bronze+me.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>22</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3498582538663589817.post-3845981602412613107</id><published>2010-11-09T15:03:00.007-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-11T08:31:22.326-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Perfection.</title><content type='html'>Perfection. &lt;s&gt;Wurth&lt;/s&gt; &lt;s&gt;Werth&lt;/s&gt; Worth the Trouble?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I have a really smart friend. I have LOTS of them actually, but one of them in particular challenged my entire way of thinking the other day. I've always had this internal struggle coming to terms with my perfectionist tendencies. They don't line up with who I am. I'm fun, charismatic, life of the party, funny, (arrogant?). The need for perfection generally doesn't accompany those attributes. So why is it there? Why can't I shake this desire for perfection? It MUST be part of who I am. Here's what my smart friend said about it all: "Perfectionism doesn't fit who you are. It fits the lie that you believe." WHOA! Hold up. I immediately wrote that down. Note to self: Don't EVER forget that!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;So, this sudden revelation prompts me to explore this; when and why did I begin to believe the lie that perfection is required of me? I could spend hours wading through all the different possible reasons. I could find all sorts of people and circumstances to blame. My childhood, a teacher, my parents, my church, a bad friend, old boyfriends, my husband....the list goes on. Ultimately though, the lie of perfection was crafted by the enemy to cause us all to believe that we can never be enough. And while it is true that we alone can never be enough, we must not forget that our Heavenly Father has never &lt;em&gt;expected&lt;/em&gt; us to be enough. Since the beginning of time, the plan of the Father was to make us complete through His son. Only in Him can we be viewed as perfect through the eyes of our Father. It is in our weaknesses, our &lt;em&gt;imperfections&lt;/em&gt;, that the Lord does his most amazing work.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;When (and &lt;em&gt;if&lt;/em&gt;) my kids make their beds, I do not help them. They do it all on their own. With their short arms and uncoordinated bodies, they tug and pull and straighten and re-straighten. When all is said and done it looks like I made their beds and then all four of them took naps on top of the covers. Wrinkled-crinkled-unmade-made beds. Now, as a parent, I praise their efforts. I thank them for putting time and energy into it. I wouldn't re-do it and make them feel incompetent in any way. But let's look at this. If they were to recognize that their covers weren't pulled taut and their pillows weren't perfectly fluffed, they may try to make their beds again. They still have the short arms and uncoordinated bodies that got them into the wrinkled mess to begin with, right? So the expected outcome of their second attempt is the same as the first. They will continue to strive for perfection and never be able to achieve it solely based on the fact that they're too small to do the job. What if instead they choose to partner with me in making their beds? I hold one end, while they straighten the other. I tuck the covers into the space between the bed and the wall because my arms are long enough to reach the required depth. It is then that their beds begin to look "perfect." But what's really important here? That the end result is a perfect bed or that they spent their time and efforts partnering with me? I think it's the latter. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Regardless of whether the results of our efforts end up being perfect or not, what truly matters is that all of our efforts are rooted in our relationship with the Lord. When we're walking in tandem with our Savior, the Father sees perfection. And if our Father sees perfecton what does it matter what our worldly eyes see? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3498582538663589817-3845981602412613107?l=estlehaps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/feeds/3845981602412613107/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3498582538663589817&amp;postID=3845981602412613107' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/3845981602412613107'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/3845981602412613107'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/2010/11/perfection.html' title='Perfection.'/><author><name>Kendra Estle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07033887102220910461</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/Sa1jj7CkYNI/AAAAAAAAAGA/-m7kI-xnfcU/S220/bronze+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3498582538663589817.post-2963439439854750057</id><published>2010-11-08T17:08:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-10T10:46:48.041-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When I Feel Lost, I am Found</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;The “Lost” musical at church on Sunday rocked my boat. I grew up in the church and thought I understood the concept of lost and found, sinner and saved. Jimmy Farley opened my mind to the knowledge that to be lost is to be far from the heart of God. Cue: current life journey. Lately, I've been questioning all I know of God. Well, maybe not what I &lt;em&gt;know&lt;/em&gt;, necessarily, but definitely questioning what I &lt;em&gt;don't know&lt;/em&gt; of God. I've been trying to further understand aspects of Him that are nearly impossible for me to grasp. His wrath (confusing), His discipline (scary), His policy on hell (terrifying). In the midst of my struggle to understand this, I've lost sight of who God &lt;em&gt;is&lt;/em&gt;. I've forgotten to cling tightly to what I know to be true of Him. Loving, Grace-filled, Merciful, Gentle, Forgiving. I've wandered from his heart and strayed from his hand. Yesterday morning it was made evident to me just how great the distance has become between His heart and mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In reviewing the “Lost” parables, we unpacked the three different ways in which the lost were found. The sheep, calling for his master. The coin, hidden in the silent darkness. And the wayward son, humbly returning to his father. As I recognize the distance from my Father, I have a choice to make. How do I want my lost and found story to end?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do I want to be like the coin? Do I feel too lost to even cry out for His help? Can I ever make it back to His heart? Should I just stay in hiding as long as I can until He swipes me from my place of darkness and brings me into his arms? Do I want to be like the sheep? Can I find my way back to Him? Have I wandered too far away? What if I become more lost on my way back? Should I just lay down, cry out for His help, for His search, for His protection and wait for Him to come to me, scoop me up, and cradle me all the way home? Will I be like the prodigal son, grip humility and walk back to Him begging for His embrace? What am I capable of? What is required of me? How long do I want to be away from His heart? I'm quite sure the distance from His heart is creating the greatest feeling of loneliness I've ever experienced and that it is all I can do to not run wildly into His arms and be swept off of my feet by His celebratory embrace. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I remember as a young child at a family reunion being squeezed tightly and swung around in circles by an uncle who had missed me beyond words and that was the only way he could express his joy for seeing me. Words weren't necessary. I was 6 and nothing could have felt better than flying through the air because of a joy so deep, caused solely by my presence. I know the same is true today. Nothing will feel better than returning to my Father's arms, allowing the moment to pass without words, relishing in the delight on His face to see me return to His heart. “Come home, I'm not mad at you. All I have is yours.” I answer, “Here's my heart, Lord. May it stay with yours."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3498582538663589817-2963439439854750057?l=estlehaps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/feeds/2963439439854750057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3498582538663589817&amp;postID=2963439439854750057' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/2963439439854750057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/2963439439854750057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/2010/11/lost-musical-at-church-on-sunday-rocked.html' title='When I Feel Lost, I am Found'/><author><name>Kendra Estle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07033887102220910461</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/Sa1jj7CkYNI/AAAAAAAAAGA/-m7kI-xnfcU/S220/bronze+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3498582538663589817.post-3955681992508885952</id><published>2009-03-23T20:41:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T21:01:42.225-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Gymnastics-Day 1</title><content type='html'>The girls started gymnastics today. Grace was a bit apprehensive about going in because mommies weren't allowed in the room, but Hope being there made it a bit easier to adjust to my absence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Since I couldn't be in the room, I attempted to take pictures through the glass doors from outside. Needless to say, they're pretty blurry. I'll label them so you know what they're supposed to be. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316596489901151714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SchYVsqlleI/AAAAAAAAAKI/g2twvY3t2FQ/s320/100_2335.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;                                                  Hope proudly posing in her gym wear!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316596496760284546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SchYWGN7pYI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ZbjMqqcO3AU/s320/100_2336.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;                                                    Waiting for class to start.....nervously.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316596503556838770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SchYWfiW1XI/AAAAAAAAAKY/m1ryw8Zh2JY/s320/100_2337.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;                                                     Being silly.......she asked to do it:)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316596510028922418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SchYW3pa_jI/AAAAAAAAAKg/U2lRfKia74E/s320/100_2339.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;                                                         Waiting their turn to bear walk.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316596515242162610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SchYXLEWubI/AAAAAAAAAKo/kivIO-yRDKU/s320/100_2340.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;                                                          Gracie doing the bear walk.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316596762787104562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SchYllPqxzI/AAAAAAAAAKw/hYlUjuvONjE/s320/100_2342.JPG" border="0" /&gt;                                             Hope coming back to the group after her turn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316596770376571698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SchYmBhI2zI/AAAAAAAAAK4/E0vJ33CMCL8/s320/100_2345.JPG" border="0" /&gt;                                                 Josiah playing with his new airplane from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Mamaw&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;                                         (trying to keep him from knocking on the glass at the girls!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3498582538663589817-3955681992508885952?l=estlehaps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/feeds/3955681992508885952/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3498582538663589817&amp;postID=3955681992508885952' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/3955681992508885952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/3955681992508885952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/2009/03/gymnastics-day-1.html' title='Gymnastics-Day 1'/><author><name>Kendra Estle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07033887102220910461</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/Sa1jj7CkYNI/AAAAAAAAAGA/-m7kI-xnfcU/S220/bronze+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SchYVsqlleI/AAAAAAAAAKI/g2twvY3t2FQ/s72-c/100_2335.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3498582538663589817.post-5168688895328337502</id><published>2009-03-19T14:31:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T14:59:25.144-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sewing Room Resuscitation</title><content type='html'>My sewing room just got crammed full of all my craft and sewing supplies and half finished projects. I'm finding the need to get all of this organized and maybe throw some sassy colors up on the wall (along with some pegboard) while I'm at it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dilemma is that I have about three projects that NEED to get finished in the next week or two, but I so BADLY want to have a fun room to sew in. I know that I should make the redesign my payoff for getting done what needs to be done but I DON'T WANNA!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll spend the next few weeks designing in my head and when I've fulfilled my obligations I'll move on to creating an inspiring environment to work in. Can't wait!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are some before pics. EEK!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/ScK_7ADwj0I/AAAAAAAAAKA/ifvg1-5KRy0/s1600-h/100_2332.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315021530599558978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/ScK_7ADwj0I/AAAAAAAAAKA/ifvg1-5KRy0/s320/100_2332.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/ScK_6tjcWGI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/QlcuUjVMajg/s1600-h/100_2331.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315021525632178274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/ScK_6tjcWGI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/QlcuUjVMajg/s320/100_2331.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/ScK_6KfDmEI/AAAAAAAAAJw/dczEuij3Jfc/s1600-h/100_2330.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315021516218538050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/ScK_6KfDmEI/AAAAAAAAAJw/dczEuij3Jfc/s320/100_2330.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/ScK_58bFUVI/AAAAAAAAAJo/KBvU5-vneSs/s1600-h/100_2329.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315021512443777362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/ScK_58bFUVI/AAAAAAAAAJo/KBvU5-vneSs/s320/100_2329.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3498582538663589817-5168688895328337502?l=estlehaps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/feeds/5168688895328337502/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3498582538663589817&amp;postID=5168688895328337502' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/5168688895328337502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/5168688895328337502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/2009/03/sewing-room-resuscitation.html' title='Sewing Room Resuscitation'/><author><name>Kendra Estle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07033887102220910461</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/Sa1jj7CkYNI/AAAAAAAAAGA/-m7kI-xnfcU/S220/bronze+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/ScK_7ADwj0I/AAAAAAAAAKA/ifvg1-5KRy0/s72-c/100_2332.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3498582538663589817.post-8349823653587093271</id><published>2009-03-17T12:14:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-17T12:18:38.333-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Copy-Cat</title><content type='html'>...and proud of it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I made a nursing cover (NOT for me!). Easy, cheap, and quick to make.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;take a looksie!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314238038906636626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/Sb_3VyDmCVI/AAAAAAAAAJg/1Lm9gqnyi2A/s320/100_2328.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3498582538663589817-8349823653587093271?l=estlehaps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/feeds/8349823653587093271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3498582538663589817&amp;postID=8349823653587093271' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/8349823653587093271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/8349823653587093271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/2009/03/copy-cat.html' title='Copy-Cat'/><author><name>Kendra Estle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07033887102220910461</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/Sa1jj7CkYNI/AAAAAAAAAGA/-m7kI-xnfcU/S220/bronze+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/Sb_3VyDmCVI/AAAAAAAAAJg/1Lm9gqnyi2A/s72-c/100_2328.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3498582538663589817.post-7219518279648919840</id><published>2009-03-14T23:51:00.007-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-15T07:15:13.882-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Josiah's 2nd Birthday Party!</title><content type='html'>The party was a blast and no one even got drunk! hehe. Shamrocks and potato leprechauns were hung about the house, little pigs in a blanket lay in their pen waiting to be devoured, and Josiah ran around saying, "I'm one!" while holding up three fingers. It was a day of celebration for our little guy who is turning two on St. Patrick's Day. He had so much fun having all the attention focused on him today (and eating green frosted cupcakes). He plowed through his presents like a pro, but I suppose that's because he's witnessed many a birthday party around here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are few pictures and a video from his special day. (The candle blowing pics and present pics are on Eileen's camera so I'll add those later.) You can also view another (longer) video of him opening presents on my you tube channel.  Go here- &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/arizonakenny"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/arizonakenny&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313309980263547490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SbyrRqMlgmI/AAAAAAAAAJI/I3izoSFalp0/s320/100_2306.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SbysJiM_GCI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/nGZ4h-rb-7I/s1600-h/100_2315.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313310940190414882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SbysJiM_GCI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/nGZ4h-rb-7I/s320/100_2315.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313309973307946930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SbyrRQSPd7I/AAAAAAAAAJA/9fUxIiYfg6w/s320/100_2312.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313309972749271586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SbyrRONCwiI/AAAAAAAAAI4/3YdHUcxo38s/s320/100_2314.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313309968360326322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SbyrQ92oxLI/AAAAAAAAAIw/WkIqoOvKYx0/s320/100_2317.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313309960394531842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SbyrQgLcZAI/AAAAAAAAAIo/LnX1b-YFXuE/s320/100_2299.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313310945199165906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SbysJ03KkdI/AAAAAAAAAJY/IF3bmY77lLo/s320/100_2318.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-5308071f28cebd93" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v11.nonxt5.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D5308071f28cebd93%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1330320337%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D1EB5B3897DC9AA717044F4A194D913A3DC77A4F0.6E2D2A3772088260FA1867D16BD3D3D6050C9CD7%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D5308071f28cebd93%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3Dtr31BEiqW6Y7CWh6XNUzG-nRkFc&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v11.nonxt5.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D5308071f28cebd93%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1330320337%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D1EB5B3897DC9AA717044F4A194D913A3DC77A4F0.6E2D2A3772088260FA1867D16BD3D3D6050C9CD7%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D5308071f28cebd93%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3Dtr31BEiqW6Y7CWh6XNUzG-nRkFc&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3498582538663589817-7219518279648919840?l=estlehaps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=5308071f28cebd93&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/feeds/7219518279648919840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3498582538663589817&amp;postID=7219518279648919840' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/7219518279648919840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/7219518279648919840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/2009/03/josiahs-2nd-birthday-party.html' title='Josiah&apos;s 2nd Birthday Party!'/><author><name>Kendra Estle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07033887102220910461</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/Sa1jj7CkYNI/AAAAAAAAAGA/-m7kI-xnfcU/S220/bronze+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SbyrRqMlgmI/AAAAAAAAAJI/I3izoSFalp0/s72-c/100_2306.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3498582538663589817.post-7686602960440465592</id><published>2009-03-09T09:10:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-09T10:56:43.235-07:00</updated><title type='text'>LOVE my Neti Pot!!!!!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SbU_0pfYyJI/AAAAAAAAAH4/KDoJgbEjuII/s1600-h/100_2289.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311221509276616850" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SbU_0pfYyJI/AAAAAAAAAH4/KDoJgbEjuII/s200/100_2289.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SbU_0FGswQI/AAAAAAAAAHw/UCel571v0Qc/s1600-h/100_2286.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311221499509391618" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SbU_0FGswQI/AAAAAAAAAHw/UCel571v0Qc/s200/100_2286.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SbU_zcf4jtI/AAAAAAAAAHo/Cusu_NJeSAw/s1600-h/100_2285.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311221488609169106" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SbU_zcf4jtI/AAAAAAAAAHo/Cusu_NJeSAw/s200/100_2285.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Okay, so, I purchased a neti pot about two weeks ago because I've been suffering from a MAJOR case of sinusitis. For those of you who don't know what a neti pot is, look above. You fill it with lukewarm water and a saline solution which you pour into one nostril while your head is upside down and sideways so it flows through the sinuses and out the other nostril. Great image, right? Well, I was totally a chicken about doing it until last night when I was miserable enough that I was considering shoving a vacuum accessory up my nose and cranking it on high. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;With much trepidation I filled the pot and stirred in the solution. First go 'round......not so hot. I apparently wasn't leaning my head forward enough and all the solution and....well....nasal secretions....started pouring down my throat. GAG! I may have been a bit over dramatic in my reaction (I know that's hard to believe). Adam came racing into the kitchen. I thought, "Oh, how sweet, he's concerned." Not so. He just wanted to see if I was okay enough that he could laugh at me. Such is life after 8 1/2 years of marriage I suppose. I'm sure I would have done the same thing had the neti been in the other nose. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;By the time I got to my second nostril I was a neti pro. One minute later I was breathing freely and swearing by the effectiveness of that little magic pot.  Thanks to that little genie in a bottle I can make it through this bout of sinusitis breathing like a bird.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3498582538663589817-7686602960440465592?l=estlehaps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/feeds/7686602960440465592/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3498582538663589817&amp;postID=7686602960440465592' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/7686602960440465592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/7686602960440465592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/2009/03/love-my-neti-pot.html' title='LOVE my Neti Pot!!!!!!!'/><author><name>Kendra Estle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07033887102220910461</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/Sa1jj7CkYNI/AAAAAAAAAGA/-m7kI-xnfcU/S220/bronze+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SbU_0pfYyJI/AAAAAAAAAH4/KDoJgbEjuII/s72-c/100_2289.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3498582538663589817.post-2980149452334988690</id><published>2009-03-03T09:23:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-03T13:37:15.135-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Sanguin's Salvation</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/Sa1cwCjei8I/AAAAAAAAAFo/oQj_M1jdjEQ/s1600-h/100_2222.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309001516128832450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/Sa1cwCjei8I/AAAAAAAAAFo/oQj_M1jdjEQ/s200/100_2222.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love life. Well...I love life on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Cymbalta&lt;/span&gt;! :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Since I've been put on medication to bring all my chemical levels back in order, my zest for life has returned and I love it! I was talking to a friend awhile ago about how lately I've been needing to work on my filter. (You know....the one that keeps me from saying inappropriate things at inappropriate times!) She said, "I once heard that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;sanguins&lt;/span&gt; should say only half of what they think." I nearly teared up when she told me that because it had been a LONG time since I'd felt even remotely &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;sanguin&lt;/span&gt;. So, I suppose the next time something uncouth comes out of my mouth I can praise God and say, "I'm back to my old self again!" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3498582538663589817-2980149452334988690?l=estlehaps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/feeds/2980149452334988690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3498582538663589817&amp;postID=2980149452334988690' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/2980149452334988690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/2980149452334988690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-love-life.html' title='A Sanguin&apos;s Salvation'/><author><name>Kendra Estle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07033887102220910461</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/Sa1jj7CkYNI/AAAAAAAAAGA/-m7kI-xnfcU/S220/bronze+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/Sa1cwCjei8I/AAAAAAAAAFo/oQj_M1jdjEQ/s72-c/100_2222.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3498582538663589817.post-5265967520854820930</id><published>2009-03-01T18:31:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-01T18:33:09.189-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blog Feed.....</title><content type='html'>I'm just wondering if my blog feed is working and posting my blogs in my notes on Facebook.  I accidentally deleted the widget on my layout so I'm trying to figure out how to get it back in working orfer.  if you can read this in my notes, will you visit my blog and let me know that it's working????? thanks!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3498582538663589817-5265967520854820930?l=estlehaps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/feeds/5265967520854820930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3498582538663589817&amp;postID=5265967520854820930' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/5265967520854820930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/5265967520854820930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/2009/03/blog-feed.html' title='Blog Feed.....'/><author><name>Kendra Estle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07033887102220910461</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/Sa1jj7CkYNI/AAAAAAAAAGA/-m7kI-xnfcU/S220/bronze+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3498582538663589817.post-3203498894830577607</id><published>2009-01-06T10:03:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-03T09:21:41.014-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fights'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Girls'/><title type='text'>Show me the love, girls!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/Sa1Y9FgpQ1I/AAAAAAAAAFg/16Qb948MAYM/s1600-h/100_1747.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308997342214046546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/Sa1Y9FgpQ1I/AAAAAAAAAFg/16Qb948MAYM/s200/100_1747.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it inevitable that sisters must fight? "Mom, she's going to lock me in the bathroom!" "Mom, she's making noise and I can't hear the TV!" "Mom, she's sitting by me!" "Mom, she's looking at me!" Seriously?????....."she's &lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;looking&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; at me????" Come on, what do I do about that, gouge out her eyes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothin' deep to follow that. Sorry.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3498582538663589817-3203498894830577607?l=estlehaps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/feeds/3203498894830577607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3498582538663589817&amp;postID=3203498894830577607' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/3203498894830577607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/3203498894830577607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/2009/01/show-me-love-girls.html' title='Show me the love, girls!'/><author><name>Kendra Estle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07033887102220910461</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/Sa1jj7CkYNI/AAAAAAAAAGA/-m7kI-xnfcU/S220/bronze+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/Sa1Y9FgpQ1I/AAAAAAAAAFg/16Qb948MAYM/s72-c/100_1747.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3498582538663589817.post-6091420749436367825</id><published>2008-11-22T19:17:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-26T07:31:28.993-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Milk....it does a body good.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SSjCc6htbtI/AAAAAAAAAFA/lkdGXoLTRLk/s1600-h/Stinky+shoe+water.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SSjCc6htbtI/AAAAAAAAAFA/lkdGXoLTRLk/s200/Stinky+shoe+water.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271677165839937234" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I had Adam in the kitchen helping me get everything ready for dinner.  He was setting the table and pouring drinks for the kids.  Everyone but Silas wanted apple juice. He opted for milk.  We were out of skim and all we had was whole.  So, in an attempt to transform whole milk to skim, Adam mixed milk with water.  Half and half.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were eating our dinner and Silas took a big drink.  He was pretty quiet about it.  After he swallowed his next drink, he said, and I quote, "This doesn't taste like milk, this tastes like gross stinky shoe water!"  (As though he knows what stinky shoe water tastes like, but I can imagine his disappointment.)  We determined that adding chocolate to the shoe water would make it at the least tolerable.  It was. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Morals of the story: 1)milk is processed at a factory for a reason, don't mess with it.  2)if you come across milk that tastes less than desirable--add some nesquik.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Milk gone.  It was a happy ending =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3498582538663589817-6091420749436367825?l=estlehaps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/feeds/6091420749436367825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3498582538663589817&amp;postID=6091420749436367825' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/6091420749436367825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/6091420749436367825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/2008/11/milkit-does-body-good.html' title='Milk....it does a body good.'/><author><name>Kendra Estle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07033887102220910461</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/Sa1jj7CkYNI/AAAAAAAAAGA/-m7kI-xnfcU/S220/bronze+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SSjCc6htbtI/AAAAAAAAAFA/lkdGXoLTRLk/s72-c/Stinky+shoe+water.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3498582538663589817.post-959053536067826299</id><published>2008-11-19T23:16:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-03T10:00:10.921-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='humor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='theology'/><title type='text'>Theology 101...in a mini-van....with a five year old</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/Sa1h_7-1tmI/AAAAAAAAAF4/y6WHpi0lfPg/s1600-h/280.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309007286800594530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/Sa1h_7-1tmI/AAAAAAAAAF4/y6WHpi0lfPg/s200/280.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We were riding home from church tonight and I jumped into a conversation that was already taking place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Silas: This is the sad part (hanging head) Jesus died on the cross. I’m sad that he died on a cross.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: It makes me sad that he HAD to die on a cross, but I’m so glad he did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Silas: Why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Because he died on the cross for us. So we could go to heaven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Silas: So, if he didn’t die on the cross would we have to?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Well, yeah, kind of, in a way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Silas: Oh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope: I don’t want to die on a cross.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Silas: But, Hope, if you die on the cross, if we die on the cross, if everyone in the whole wide world dies on a cross at the same time, we can all say “we love the cross!” because we would go to heaven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Prayer requests later that evening:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grace- pray that Mommy and Hopie and Gracie don’t die.&lt;br /&gt;Hope- pray that we all won’t die on a cross.&lt;br /&gt;Silas- pray that everyone in the whole wide world can live forever.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3498582538663589817-959053536067826299?l=estlehaps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/feeds/959053536067826299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3498582538663589817&amp;postID=959053536067826299' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/959053536067826299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/959053536067826299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/2008/11/theology-101in-mini-vanwith-five-year.html' title='Theology 101...in a mini-van....with a five year old'/><author><name>Kendra Estle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07033887102220910461</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/Sa1jj7CkYNI/AAAAAAAAAGA/-m7kI-xnfcU/S220/bronze+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/Sa1h_7-1tmI/AAAAAAAAAF4/y6WHpi0lfPg/s72-c/280.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3498582538663589817.post-9041735462170614049</id><published>2008-11-12T07:33:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T07:51:44.085-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Who's pointing fingers?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SRrs92bM2xI/AAAAAAAAAE4/TOI_FUINl0Y/s1600-h/pointing+fingers.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 170px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SRrs92bM2xI/AAAAAAAAAE4/TOI_FUINl0Y/s200/pointing+fingers.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267783261488995090" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took a personality test this morning. Granted, it was one that someone made up and posted on Facebook. They claimed that it was the most accurate one and that Dr. Phil used it on his show once. (who knows). Here's what my results were.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Others see you as someone they should "handle with care." You're seen as vain, self-centered, and someone who is extremely dominant. Others may admire you, wishing they could be more like you, but don't always trust you, hesitating to become too deeply involved with you. &lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ouch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I checked out the source of this test with Snopes because my results just HAD to be wrong. There is no way of linking it to Dr. Phil and they said to consider the results similar to that of a fortune cookie. Some fortune. "Hey, you suck and not very many people like you. Here are your lucky numbers...666." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I'll have Chinese food for lunch today and see if I can turn my luck around.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3498582538663589817-9041735462170614049?l=estlehaps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/feeds/9041735462170614049/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3498582538663589817&amp;postID=9041735462170614049' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/9041735462170614049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/9041735462170614049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/2008/11/whos-pointing-fingers.html' title='Who&apos;s pointing fingers?'/><author><name>Kendra Estle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07033887102220910461</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/Sa1jj7CkYNI/AAAAAAAAAGA/-m7kI-xnfcU/S220/bronze+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SRrs92bM2xI/AAAAAAAAAE4/TOI_FUINl0Y/s72-c/pointing+fingers.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3498582538663589817.post-8407527831950580704</id><published>2008-11-11T21:28:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T23:01:44.128-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cleaning Schmeaning</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SRpgXdNRJMI/AAAAAAAAAEw/ZSmFcGkHx_E/s1600-h/100_1737.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SRpgXdNRJMI/AAAAAAAAAEw/ZSmFcGkHx_E/s200/100_1737.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267628670256751810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I power cleaned my house this morning. Adam let me sleep in today until nine and then when I woke up I was told we'd have company at eleven. "EEK!" I thought, for my house was a disaster. When I say disaster, I mean it, okay? The night before (thankfully) I had cleaned the kids rooms with them to waste time before bed and pretty much to remove all the fire, trip, and stump hazards. Even though their rooms were cleaned, that left....hmmm...EVERY other room in my house. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Off to the races I went. I'm pretty proud of myself. I got it done with 15 minutes left to take the world's quickest shower. I enjoyed the rest of my day looking at all of the nothing on my floors and admiring my dustless armoire. "ahhhh." wait...."How long will this last?" All glory was gone at that moment as panic began to sit in at the mere THOUGHT of tomorrow when my children might want to actually *gasp* &lt;em&gt;play&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I thought it would be a fun little thing for me to take a picture of my house when it gets all tornadoey (is that a word?) again and we'll all see how long it takes. Though, I will say that it's my &lt;em&gt;intention&lt;/em&gt; to keep it clean. "ahem" We'll see I suppose. Every one have a good evening and rest easy in the cleanliness of my house. I will....until tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3498582538663589817-8407527831950580704?l=estlehaps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/feeds/8407527831950580704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3498582538663589817&amp;postID=8407527831950580704' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/8407527831950580704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/8407527831950580704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/2008/11/cleaning-schmeaning.html' title='Cleaning Schmeaning'/><author><name>Kendra Estle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07033887102220910461</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/Sa1jj7CkYNI/AAAAAAAAAGA/-m7kI-xnfcU/S220/bronze+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SRpgXdNRJMI/AAAAAAAAAEw/ZSmFcGkHx_E/s72-c/100_1737.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3498582538663589817.post-3509426946352285546</id><published>2008-11-05T16:38:00.007-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-05T17:48:21.012-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Silas on Politics</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SRIxx0ckW8I/AAAAAAAAAEo/iO9rCvbYfHw/s1600-h/047.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SRIxx0ckW8I/AAAAAAAAAEo/iO9rCvbYfHw/s200/047.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265325646311349186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SRIxcrGl7gI/AAAAAAAAAEg/OZ5hDDZwHzo/s1600-h/politics.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 106px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SRIxcrGl7gI/AAAAAAAAAEg/OZ5hDDZwHzo/s200/politics.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265325283026005506" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the last week Silas, Adam, and I have been involved in political discussion.  Silas' school has been very involved in the election process and talked about all the candidates.  I'm ashamed to say I learned about two of the candidates from my Kindergartener (Cynthia McKinney and Bob Barr anyone???).  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today when we were asking Silas what he learned about the election today he told us that Obama's favorite animal is a donkey and John McCain's is an elephant!  He also said, "There's still three states left....it's not over yet!"  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still laughing!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3498582538663589817-3509426946352285546?l=estlehaps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/feeds/3509426946352285546/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3498582538663589817&amp;postID=3509426946352285546' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/3509426946352285546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/3509426946352285546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/2008/11/silas-on-politics.html' title='Silas on Politics'/><author><name>Kendra Estle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07033887102220910461</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/Sa1jj7CkYNI/AAAAAAAAAGA/-m7kI-xnfcU/S220/bronze+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SRIxx0ckW8I/AAAAAAAAAEo/iO9rCvbYfHw/s72-c/047.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3498582538663589817.post-8267543293604938082</id><published>2008-11-03T16:59:00.006-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-03T09:42:28.764-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dirty Laundry Disposition</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/Sa1d47WNxGI/AAAAAAAAAFw/NScL3DPgx-4/s1600-h/100_1769.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309002768324609122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/Sa1d47WNxGI/AAAAAAAAAFw/NScL3DPgx-4/s200/100_1769.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My laundry loads today came in at a grand total of 11 LOADS!!!!! This says two things about me.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I can be extremely productive! How many people can pull off 11 loads of laundry in one day? Not just washed people. Folded and put away too! All of this is possible, in part, due to my extremely efficient gas dryer.....yay kenmore!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. I can also be extremely LAZY! How does one go about piling up eleven loads of laundry????? Yeah, by NOT doing it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sooooo....lesson learned? We'll see. Hopefully I'll make better choices in the near future regarding my laundry habits and do a load or two a day, but I think I've been here before......hmmm....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3498582538663589817-8267543293604938082?l=estlehaps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/feeds/8267543293604938082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3498582538663589817&amp;postID=8267543293604938082' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/8267543293604938082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/8267543293604938082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/2008/11/my-laundry-loads-today-came-in-at-grand.html' title='Dirty Laundry Disposition'/><author><name>Kendra Estle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07033887102220910461</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/Sa1jj7CkYNI/AAAAAAAAAGA/-m7kI-xnfcU/S220/bronze+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/Sa1d47WNxGI/AAAAAAAAAFw/NScL3DPgx-4/s72-c/100_1769.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3498582538663589817.post-2903483518794093729</id><published>2008-11-02T21:50:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-03T22:52:47.727-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Free Coffee?</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/NYd-_0Vt2W4&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/NYd-_0Vt2W4&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Tuesday, Starbucks all across the nation will be giving free coffee to voters.  If you vote, you can go in and receive a tall cup of freshly brewed joe.  After hearing about this, I started thinking.  Is the point of this simply to reward those who choose to exercise their right to vote?  Or is it an attempt to motivate people to get out and vote?  If the latter is the case, what does that say about Americans?  Why do we need to be offered a free cup of coffee to 'care.'  Shouldn't we take pride in the fact that we can choose our leaders and vote on our laws?  And do we really want people voting just so they can get a free cup of coffee?  I think I'd rather their uninformed or apathetic votes remain uncast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Don't get me wrong, I applaude Starbucks and their attempt at encouraging people to get out there and vote.  And I will be grabbing my own free cup of joe (who would turn down free coffee).  But why would offering free coffee bring the voting American percentages up?  I'm just saying, let's think about it, people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go out there on Tuesday and vote because you CAN.  Vote because you CARE.  Then go grab a cup of joe!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3498582538663589817-2903483518794093729?l=estlehaps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/feeds/2903483518794093729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3498582538663589817&amp;postID=2903483518794093729' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/2903483518794093729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/2903483518794093729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/2008/11/on-tuesday-starbucks-all-across-nation.html' title='Free Coffee?'/><author><name>Kendra Estle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07033887102220910461</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/Sa1jj7CkYNI/AAAAAAAAAGA/-m7kI-xnfcU/S220/bronze+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3498582538663589817.post-4133550522267372315</id><published>2008-11-01T21:47:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-03T22:53:17.463-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Prop 303</title><content type='html'>"vote Yes on Prop 303...free moms from Laundry!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Proposition 303-&lt;br /&gt;A "yes" vote shall have the effect of reinstating original creation laws that allow all persons big or small to walk freely while being nude with no shame, no judgement, and no penalizing fines.  The passing of such a propostition would eliminate the need for hours of sorting, spot removal, washing, drying, folding, and filing clothes.  Detergent bottles would no longer be needed allowing us to "be green" in the process. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A "no" vote shall have the effect of retaining the current law which requires the use of clothing to hide all things hideous and unsightly.  The retaining of such a law makes my life harder, my closets smaller, and furthermore makes you suck if you vote "no."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3498582538663589817-4133550522267372315?l=estlehaps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/feeds/4133550522267372315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3498582538663589817&amp;postID=4133550522267372315' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/4133550522267372315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/4133550522267372315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/2008/11/vote-yes-on-prop-303.html' title='Prop 303'/><author><name>Kendra Estle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07033887102220910461</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/Sa1jj7CkYNI/AAAAAAAAAGA/-m7kI-xnfcU/S220/bronze+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3498582538663589817.post-1661729975471371841</id><published>2008-10-29T22:33:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-03T22:53:53.614-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Time mis-Management</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SQlHzK0mEkI/AAAAAAAAAEA/3d808Bv4t48/s1600-h/clock.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262816583962989122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 134px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SQlHzK0mEkI/AAAAAAAAAEA/3d808Bv4t48/s200/clock.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I've been thinking about how I spend my time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Right now....I shouldn't be doing this. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'll write later.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3498582538663589817-1661729975471371841?l=estlehaps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/feeds/1661729975471371841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3498582538663589817&amp;postID=1661729975471371841' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/1661729975471371841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/1661729975471371841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/2008/10/ive-been-thinking-about-how-i-spend-my.html' title='Time mis-Management'/><author><name>Kendra Estle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07033887102220910461</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/Sa1jj7CkYNI/AAAAAAAAAGA/-m7kI-xnfcU/S220/bronze+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SQlHzK0mEkI/AAAAAAAAAEA/3d808Bv4t48/s72-c/clock.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3498582538663589817.post-2644816270216698509</id><published>2008-08-16T19:33:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-29T22:53:01.670-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Birthday parties used to be fun!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SQlLSdSjroI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/2vqbU2KihHg/s1600-h/butterfly+game"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262820420031327874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SQlLSdSjroI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/2vqbU2KihHg/s200/butterfly+game" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SQlKMBAB1yI/AAAAAAAAAEI/YkdvzJ6TRl8/s1600-h/hope+pinata"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262819209846576930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SQlKMBAB1yI/AAAAAAAAAEI/YkdvzJ6TRl8/s200/hope+pinata" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to LOVE going to birthday parties. The music, the cake, the pinatas (excuse the lack of the tilde on the n). Now I go to parties and although they have all the aforementioned, I get to spend the entire party making sure my kids don't drown in the non-gated pool, get hit with the pinata stick, or overdose on icing. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Oh how I long for the days of youth. Icing was never an issue, the more the merrier. Pinata sticks rarely hit the pinata, yet it only added to the entertainment of the party. The pool was greeted with many splashes and never did I have to think about what I looked like in a bathing suit. (well, I didn't HAVE to, but I did. oh the ignorance of youth.) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Don't get me wrong, I love to see my kids happy to be with their friends. I love to see them excited about present time and what they brought for their friend to open. I love to see them jazzed about the favor bags loaded with candy. I just wish grown ups didn't have to be so grown up at their parties. Why do the kids get to have all the fun? For my thirtieth I'm smashing a pinata, heck, maybe two! I'm doubling up on the icing!! I'm wearing a swimsuit!!!(.....well....maybe not.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3498582538663589817-2644816270216698509?l=estlehaps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/feeds/2644816270216698509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3498582538663589817&amp;postID=2644816270216698509' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/2644816270216698509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/2644816270216698509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/2008/08/birthday-parties-used-to-be-fun.html' title='Birthday parties used to be fun!'/><author><name>Kendra Estle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07033887102220910461</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/Sa1jj7CkYNI/AAAAAAAAAGA/-m7kI-xnfcU/S220/bronze+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/SQlLSdSjroI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/2vqbU2KihHg/s72-c/butterfly+game' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3498582538663589817.post-6210776135050143628</id><published>2008-02-14T08:21:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2008-02-14T09:42:00.444-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Photo Shoot</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/R7RvKVu1AjI/AAAAAAAAAC8/qEVA9eSuz7A/s1600-h/118.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5166876895923733042" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/R7RvKVu1AjI/AAAAAAAAAC8/qEVA9eSuz7A/s320/118.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Have you ever thought something would be fun? Have you ever tried to do it and realized that...ummmm.....it's not that fun??? Well, that's what this little photo shoot turned out to be. It was probably because my expectations were WAY too high (surprise, surprise) and because of this it was cut short, very sort. Nevertheless, in the midst of the frustration we got some pretty cute shots. Enjoy!&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/R7RfJFu1AgI/AAAAAAAAACk/MRApaO1Zfd4/s1600-h/126.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5166859282262852098" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/R7RfJFu1AgI/AAAAAAAAACk/MRApaO1Zfd4/s320/126.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/R7RfJlu1AhI/AAAAAAAAACs/RiuuSF8NVgc/s1600-h/130.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5166859290852786706" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/R7RfJlu1AhI/AAAAAAAAACs/RiuuSF8NVgc/s320/130.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/R7RfH1u1AeI/AAAAAAAAACU/kXFkSpqSd2U/s1600-h/109.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5166859260788015586" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/R7RfH1u1AeI/AAAAAAAAACU/kXFkSpqSd2U/s320/109.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3498582538663589817-6210776135050143628?l=estlehaps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/feeds/6210776135050143628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3498582538663589817&amp;postID=6210776135050143628' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/6210776135050143628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/6210776135050143628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/2008/02/photo-shoot.html' title='Photo Shoot'/><author><name>Kendra Estle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07033887102220910461</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/Sa1jj7CkYNI/AAAAAAAAAGA/-m7kI-xnfcU/S220/bronze+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/R7RvKVu1AjI/AAAAAAAAAC8/qEVA9eSuz7A/s72-c/118.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3498582538663589817.post-4619891002707137397</id><published>2007-11-24T23:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-24T23:54:57.657-07:00</updated><title type='text'>figurin' it all out</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;If you know me at all, you know me figuring out this whole thing will take a while.  So, please people, have some patience.  If you have a complaint, save it; if you have some help, show me some love!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3498582538663589817-4619891002707137397?l=estlehaps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/feeds/4619891002707137397/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3498582538663589817&amp;postID=4619891002707137397' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/4619891002707137397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3498582538663589817/posts/default/4619891002707137397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estlehaps.blogspot.com/2007/11/figurin-it-all-out.html' title='figurin&apos; it all out'/><author><name>Kendra Estle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07033887102220910461</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-mfnS-wKLs/Sa1jj7CkYNI/AAAAAAAAAGA/-m7kI-xnfcU/S220/bronze+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
