tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10156452696079932682024-03-13T08:09:00.906-05:00Stories with SophieDeb Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861392500601183208noreply@blogger.comBlogger778125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1015645269607993268.post-89895080531003653632023-03-17T10:29:00.000-05:002023-03-17T10:29:06.704-05:003/17 I'm So Lucky<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_O0y6Mu7aBgwwc2hVGxb28IEkovhxmwUXJzvyeLtzR1Zpgu6H3JWbazkiYD9H4z977c8xDidy7dhBHzCVGPY9BcmVpkz2NHVNdPj7Tlk9aq6TbFl7Pc6xycXIczzc-XN0GoLrWsptTLgfZmTkxSBOq7_qLF-zge5zM5OOVklywedUbPE2D_AHT16z/s291/download.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="173" data-original-width="291" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_O0y6Mu7aBgwwc2hVGxb28IEkovhxmwUXJzvyeLtzR1Zpgu6H3JWbazkiYD9H4z977c8xDidy7dhBHzCVGPY9BcmVpkz2NHVNdPj7Tlk9aq6TbFl7Pc6xycXIczzc-XN0GoLrWsptTLgfZmTkxSBOq7_qLF-zge5zM5OOVklywedUbPE2D_AHT16z/s1600/download.jpg" width="291" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'm so lucky to have a birthday on St. Patrick's Day☘️</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Everyone likes to celebrate my birthday (even if they don't like green beer)☘️</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It's hard for family and friends to forget my birthday☘️</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">St. Pat's Day signals spring to me (even if the wind chill is zero and there is snow on the ground)☘️</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My Facebook is filled with birthday wishes from friends and family and lots of former students☘️</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My mom is still kicking at 88 and looking forward to our visit☘️</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My brother and sisters will help me celebrate today☘️</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My kids and grandkids will call (tomorrow I told them)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We're going out to eat (something we don't do often enough)☘️</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'll drink green beer (why don't they have green wine?) ☘️</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">This post originally appeared on Coffee With Chloe.</div>Deb Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861392500601183208noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1015645269607993268.post-89209752339361959712023-03-16T20:28:00.003-05:002023-03-16T20:29:17.186-05:0016/31 It's Hard to Be a Puppy When It Rains<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZaDnBWOSgWpWZJzM9BRnIkAGiNjNykcn7D-pVPxTlecaZI5MxejP6Y7uNqBsnRsHS9yplsMeI2OKQrLm8MSCaVeqSCD1TU0oaRlrXgcGmbghewkoF062R6x2y36qA0QXF2T0zURAiueljAcpt40H15_EYV3y9gmSxQG_SdZ14WZCPr7YG8kVUTnK-/s4032/CA938ABD-CE71-4EA3-906E-E7C6233F8DC9.heic" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZaDnBWOSgWpWZJzM9BRnIkAGiNjNykcn7D-pVPxTlecaZI5MxejP6Y7uNqBsnRsHS9yplsMeI2OKQrLm8MSCaVeqSCD1TU0oaRlrXgcGmbghewkoF062R6x2y36qA0QXF2T0zURAiueljAcpt40H15_EYV3y9gmSxQG_SdZ14WZCPr7YG8kVUTnK-/s320/CA938ABD-CE71-4EA3-906E-E7C6233F8DC9.heic" width="240" /></a></div>I can't play in the yard <p></p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>it's too muddy</li><li>it's too cold</li><li>you'll get all wet</li><li>you'll track mud in the house</li></ul><div>It's hard to be a puppy when it rains.</div><div><br /></div><div>I can't play inside</div><div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>settle down</li><li>don't bite</li><li>we're not wrestling</li><li>stay out of the garbage</li><li>what are you into now</li></ul><div>It's hard to be a puppy when it rains.</div></div><p></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I can't sleep all day, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I have too much energy. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I don't have any dog friends to play with.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I don't have any kids to play with.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It's hard to be a puppy when it rains.</div><br /><p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">This post originally appeared on Coffee With Chloe.</div>Deb Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861392500601183208noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1015645269607993268.post-34712221780924346662023-03-15T19:15:00.000-05:002023-03-15T19:15:07.211-05:0015/31 Bad Slicer<p> I have been a bad slicer the last few days and I don't see it getting better over the weekend. Life is taking over! How dare it!</p><p>I haven't written til waaaayyyyy late in the day. I haven't commented like I usually do. Usually, I comment twice a day. In the morning for the early birds and again after supper for those who post later in the day.</p><p>I'm setting a goal to write and comment on the next two mornings. Get me on schedule again. </p><p>But Friday we are heading to my mom's overnight. It is the land of the internetless. I'm going to try and write a couple of posts that I can schedule them to post--or at least have them written so I don't have to write from my phone!</p><p>But my guess is, I'll write Saturday's post on my phone.</p><p>I can't be too organized. Can I?</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">This post originally appeared on Coffee With Chloe.</div>Deb Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861392500601183208noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1015645269607993268.post-30914422620384207762023-03-14T20:37:00.003-05:002023-03-15T19:07:37.015-05:0014/31 They're Everywhere<p> For the last few weeks I've been doing my "Welcome to Medicare" physical, as my doctor referred to it. So there was blood work, an EKG, and a bone density test. I also had a dental check-up. Now, this post isn't about those tests or Medicare, or even about growing old. Well, it is kind of about that.</p><p>I taught in our small town for many years. Taught a couple thousand or more kids. And now, many of them are adulting in our hometown. Most of them still refer to me as Mrs. Day</p><p>When I went for my EKG, a familiar face and voice awkwardly called my name. There was a little small talk as we walked down the hall and she introduced me to another former student who would be assisting. After all the explanations of what was going to happen (and they were pretty good at it!), we could talk and catch up on the years since we all left school. I like hearing about what's going on in their lives (another new school grandbaby is on the way 😊).</p><p>A few days later, the bone density test.</p><p>"Deb", an uncertain voice called. "Boy. Is that going to take some getting used to." </p><p>It was one of my former speech kids, now working in radiology. We walked down the hall, chatting about nothing important. She introduced me to a trainee, who ran the test. While the test was happening, we caught up, and talked about vacations and her family. All the while, she kept an eye on her trainee and made sure things were running as they should. </p><p>What's nice about this, is these are MY kids. MY school babies. And here they are. Adulting. Easing my tension and taking care of me. Like I tried to do for them all those years ago.</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">This post originally appeared on Coffee With Chloe.</div>Deb Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861392500601183208noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1015645269607993268.post-56436330006108059352023-03-13T16:49:00.003-05:002023-03-15T19:07:14.657-05:0013/31 The Little Things<p style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-family: Shadows Into Light; font-size: x-large;"><i>It's The Little Things</i></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The smell of coffee brewing☕️</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Tulips pushing up through the ground🌷</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Walks with Sophie🐕</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">My Birthday☘️</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Comfy clothes💕</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Ice Cream🍨</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Dinner Out or brought in🥘</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Grandkid giggles😂</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Sophie zoomies in the yard😁</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Sunshine😎</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">A glass of good red wine🍷</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">New pens and notebooks💕</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Sitting on a beach🏖</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Wander shopping</span><span style="font-family: georgia;">🛍</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Big hugs</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Campfires🔥</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Writing again!</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">This post originally appeared on Coffee With Chloe.</div>Deb Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861392500601183208noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1015645269607993268.post-60337842619682701322023-03-12T16:14:00.003-05:002023-03-12T16:15:27.884-05:0012/31 The Toybox<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgruvwEb3S2o1FomkLT2h8IDPrsx4TM_yDpGh6NSp6Mw_KsFoz9OyOumDZ9bR0eAZ7FvqqB4SG_m7U6xu0A43UnzyMVbRD0cljap8CWDUlxP4ZJLaHyoa3fhixHgFLxJTJrcfti1nwM6ywGlDj6wo_3MAWL5xbAtywyjCk-dUysgB9ASJSf4_u0gBaP/s960/IMG_1930.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgruvwEb3S2o1FomkLT2h8IDPrsx4TM_yDpGh6NSp6Mw_KsFoz9OyOumDZ9bR0eAZ7FvqqB4SG_m7U6xu0A43UnzyMVbRD0cljap8CWDUlxP4ZJLaHyoa3fhixHgFLxJTJrcfti1nwM6ywGlDj6wo_3MAWL5xbAtywyjCk-dUysgB9ASJSf4_u0gBaP/w200-h150/IMG_1930.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><p>All I know is that the toybox originally came from<a href="https://deb-day.blogspot.com/2012/03/grandmas-garage.html"> Grandma's Garage.</a></p><p>I don't know if my sisters and I used it and Mom gave it to me after my oldest was born or if Grandpa pulled it out of the garage after he was born.</p><p>I just don't know.</p><p>But it is the kind of thing Grandma would buy and keep in The Garage.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPK1jdUzEIrZFz6W6WdYWiFc6deSpwcdU4MGezJ2T-s2gsKiTRK8g6oPVngLBVQo2egE3eVe7hfGcQFJKVWGMsuM8g6BTqKm11oXzBhG69WGqE8Rr66LRRrhN4x7qSmInUh-LsAlLIZ5kuozqQNeohTSBUjXIdjLyEjJ5uWF7Cyx-2RyuK4lD7SM7g/s960/IMG_1929.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPK1jdUzEIrZFz6W6WdYWiFc6deSpwcdU4MGezJ2T-s2gsKiTRK8g6oPVngLBVQo2egE3eVe7hfGcQFJKVWGMsuM8g6BTqKm11oXzBhG69WGqE8Rr66LRRrhN4x7qSmInUh-LsAlLIZ5kuozqQNeohTSBUjXIdjLyEjJ5uWF7Cyx-2RyuK4lD7SM7g/w200-h150/IMG_1929.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><p>It traveled with us from my hometown and four moves after that. It held Hotwheels and GI Joes, Legos and Lincoln Logs. It lasted through our two boys and six grandkids. At the end, it held forgotten toys that no one played with anymore. It was relegated to the basement dumping ground.</p><p>Forgotten.</p><p><br /></p><p>But then, Lucky #7 arrived. Mom and Dad were looking for a toy box...</p><p>It's circus animals fit in with her room decor. It needed a little TLC, but not much.</p><p>And now, it's no longer forgotten.</p><br /><p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">This post originally appeared on Coffee With Chloe.</div>Deb Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861392500601183208noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1015645269607993268.post-12555001322103442702023-03-11T15:23:00.003-06:002023-03-11T15:23:42.323-06:0011/31 #sol23. Spring<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVqizqL_SGTJ3UBukOTyJk1is-DwQNUGU0bTM9WvE7X4sxXZzk7Tf2AQeLY9D0cYfi5M8wxQDhniyGVWMo6UBzTbYiziQxhHugZJhq3QX4uONJwb4OjWT7K6DgguPv6oV_JsHL6SEo_pZ6s7YKd3wtJ-fwI3PTmALnUjNWmg9zq-5HSwix1A69bUhy/s1796/How-to-Protect-Your-Home-from-Melting-Snow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="966" data-original-width="1796" height="172" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVqizqL_SGTJ3UBukOTyJk1is-DwQNUGU0bTM9WvE7X4sxXZzk7Tf2AQeLY9D0cYfi5M8wxQDhniyGVWMo6UBzTbYiziQxhHugZJhq3QX4uONJwb4OjWT7K6DgguPv6oV_JsHL6SEo_pZ6s7YKd3wtJ-fwI3PTmALnUjNWmg9zq-5HSwix1A69bUhy/s320/How-to-Protect-Your-Home-from-Melting-Snow.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Drip</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> Drip</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> Drip</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Warm days</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Melting snow</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The sun warms me now</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">as we walk</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Drip</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> Drip</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Drip</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It creates squishy mud</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">That crawls between </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Puppy toes</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">She leaves paw prints</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">everywhere</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Including my heart</div><br /><p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">This post originally appeared on Coffee With Chloe.</div>Deb Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861392500601183208noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1015645269607993268.post-53857089439260407002023-03-10T10:11:00.002-06:002023-03-10T10:11:38.141-06:0010/31 #sol23 I Got Nuthin'<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXq3AGbMXXdyZ-0vAYoY94N416mcblvkn9pKnGfTrY2qWPzxDjYTMUheMxq2JcsCRWVnRWEKpnRZcfkS9PtFSQdDeVEGepDJHjyJdRSTi6iUcLe1_0KcjCYAIRlofIJxBDHwSOyMylhg62qhlNQXGRsMVmATwGCRssgpX1xqtdbV5w6NRE8mJcKYm5/s388/charliebrownsigh.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="388" data-original-width="300" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXq3AGbMXXdyZ-0vAYoY94N416mcblvkn9pKnGfTrY2qWPzxDjYTMUheMxq2JcsCRWVnRWEKpnRZcfkS9PtFSQdDeVEGepDJHjyJdRSTi6iUcLe1_0KcjCYAIRlofIJxBDHwSOyMylhg62qhlNQXGRsMVmATwGCRssgpX1xqtdbV5w6NRE8mJcKYm5/s320/charliebrownsigh.jpg" width="247" /></a></div>Seems about right. March 10, and the "I ain't got nuthin to write about" blues are here.<p></p><p>I wrote about my plants yesterday, for crying out loud.</p><p>I can't keep writing about Sophie--that would get boring. Although, she's been pretty cute lately.</p><p>Haven't seen the grandkids recently, so I can't write about them. Although, I love schools that livestream events because we did get to watch one of the kids' jazz choir concert the other night!</p><p>Maybe I could write a poem about spring or the snowstorm that wasn't yesterday.</p><p>We're meeting some lake friends tomorrow afternoon, but I guess that will be a post next week. Lake time is coming up! But I'm not ready to write about that.</p><p>I searched through my Blogging and Journaling board on Pinterest. </p><p>Still nothing.</p><p>Looked through my notebook.</p><p>Still nothing.</p><p>So, this will do for today and I'll worry about tomorrow, well, tomorrow!</p><p><br /></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">This post originally appeared on Coffee With Chloe.</div>Deb Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861392500601183208noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1015645269607993268.post-64818243105870084342023-03-09T18:00:00.004-06:002023-03-09T18:00:54.568-06:009/31 #sol23 Plant Babies<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibUZtCfcgJtfT4BZMHqUJswSm2UGxhHIyE27UvLhPTL5v2klE3yIWg_KEs6MV6ngPautCRHEUr4t1O3VW0VlaOpGbrJfylLBu_r1OZ_83WeMqFoxAUttn89QsXIL8zUFFczR4LGX6T3pi53W0B46mMv0jpLBNxqskXIn0Pv4dZP-it-Jgenud3Ya7M/s4032/7A00660E-5DBD-4FA4-9CE0-89725EC32740.heic" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibUZtCfcgJtfT4BZMHqUJswSm2UGxhHIyE27UvLhPTL5v2klE3yIWg_KEs6MV6ngPautCRHEUr4t1O3VW0VlaOpGbrJfylLBu_r1OZ_83WeMqFoxAUttn89QsXIL8zUFFczR4LGX6T3pi53W0B46mMv0jpLBNxqskXIn0Pv4dZP-it-Jgenud3Ya7M/s320/7A00660E-5DBD-4FA4-9CE0-89725EC32740.heic" width="240" /></a></div>Mom says I got my green thumb from her mom. Could be. But I spend a lot of time taking care of my babies. Most of them I have rescued either from friends and family or Walmart. Wherever I get them, they all need a little TLC.<p></p><p>These are second-generation Boston Ferns. I rescued the original plant from Walmart three or four years ago. It started with four fronds. Last fall, before I took it apart, it was probably three feet across.</p><p>Seriously. It was huge. And it had overgrown its pot and made a horrible mess in the dining room where I hung it for the winter. I decided it was time to do something.</p><p>Websites I found said you could do one of two things to propagate new plants. The first was to cut the plant into pieces and plant them. The other was to take the little seed balls and plant them.</p><p><br /></p><p>So I did both. And they are all doing great and ready for spring---if it ever gets here!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyTSCzA0XTGTECSX4c20ag3m6jrJV9Q8GoZQ-dg1MJILT1wCPUg3olkgRBT_Yb4wna2H-IYVz3JSvJ2kWL0H6qnpYag2qed0P-85dY6X9Yi9TknYHwXNK6mjzGGxvV1ft2XUGHHdi7RPA5UlfQ9hmQInQyc2Gg-xXui4q90Zv2768GbZlPEE1UlrRv/s4032/E3399B9A-8E16-480B-8D47-AD1E3AFCBD0C.heic" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyTSCzA0XTGTECSX4c20ag3m6jrJV9Q8GoZQ-dg1MJILT1wCPUg3olkgRBT_Yb4wna2H-IYVz3JSvJ2kWL0H6qnpYag2qed0P-85dY6X9Yi9TknYHwXNK6mjzGGxvV1ft2XUGHHdi7RPA5UlfQ9hmQInQyc2Gg-xXui4q90Zv2768GbZlPEE1UlrRv/s320/E3399B9A-8E16-480B-8D47-AD1E3AFCBD0C.heic" width="240" /></a></div><div><br /></div><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>I also have some deep purple Morning Glories sprouting. My niece from Colorado sent the seeds to me because I loved these wrapped around her deck when we visited this summer.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrA6DVhEzFgjQc5w5uSVGXeMND4p55xZsKKe25XhcTT73Bx6eEt3WPUFquxU_h4q1v_XKj2dIxd3WSKUPJiTPZFd1BR_cmbV7yoVUdWeKAL1RVWltkU2Gg6V_ZXOxWUlXalHo9VWYeY0kwPSvczHQ5OkuOhfW0EKwbTfHHZ3fwvi4ddRH56NYmO3vG/s4032/6DFB4EE6-1B2F-41FC-ABAF-999D40C43DEA.heic" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrA6DVhEzFgjQc5w5uSVGXeMND4p55xZsKKe25XhcTT73Bx6eEt3WPUFquxU_h4q1v_XKj2dIxd3WSKUPJiTPZFd1BR_cmbV7yoVUdWeKAL1RVWltkU2Gg6V_ZXOxWUlXalHo9VWYeY0kwPSvczHQ5OkuOhfW0EKwbTfHHZ3fwvi4ddRH56NYmO3vG/s320/6DFB4EE6-1B2F-41FC-ABAF-999D40C43DEA.heic" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>This is from an African Violet from a plant I bought twenty years ago. It started dying off, so I plucked this little sprout off of the main plant and am hoping it will start a new plant. <div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6jl3UxpRg9KLJ2atRr755r3_R78YWtJNyx9Pg9AhxzJPqkzEPXqf6vgy9D0peBvXwArsx_rVIX3JqVucH5PfnrQiZ3MP362XVoqYa5mZb01jDeqP2ZZrusiMkW8nMSn8z3CprP5LEXEk_NcLGaO0WiWa8Fbei5-NnZKW_1AcziHtCE-KaM3jvgjlp/s4032/C25395E4-8C74-4D3F-90E1-7197E5C86305.heic" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6jl3UxpRg9KLJ2atRr755r3_R78YWtJNyx9Pg9AhxzJPqkzEPXqf6vgy9D0peBvXwArsx_rVIX3JqVucH5PfnrQiZ3MP362XVoqYa5mZb01jDeqP2ZZrusiMkW8nMSn8z3CprP5LEXEk_NcLGaO0WiWa8Fbei5-NnZKW_1AcziHtCE-KaM3jvgjlp/s320/C25395E4-8C74-4D3F-90E1-7197E5C86305.heic" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div><br /><p></p><p>And this one makes me most excited. It's a bright orange hibiscus--another Walmart rescue. There are several buds on it right now and they should bloom in a few weeks. This is its third year. It started off spindling and about a foot tall. Now, it's about three feet tall. During the summer it lives on the deck and in the winter it's a dining room dweller. </p><p><br /></p><p>Now, if it would quit snowing, get warm, and stay that way, I could think about outdoor plants!</p></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">This post originally appeared on Coffee With Chloe.</div>Deb Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861392500601183208noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1015645269607993268.post-63494089287631874052023-03-08T10:05:00.004-06:002023-03-08T10:05:56.424-06:008/31 #sol23 Ohboyohboyohboy<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhphMrJopbbuBmK5wYIaJ0gGh5Ggv--bfXvZvncdQtxoDI4d_g1-N5lTAmfglan7fFNKj9YIZly7lKNut2c6MRbBHIPBa-p1ljzGYNYTZwcZ1eBkrJWvRv2mj6P1k902b6vdj-OEVbTdeLkca3RzDIaLvl5_zueOCJKIvLFy5UjgXNme7SxITJeBH_k/s4032/C2DFBAA7-B85B-4C73-841E-9B75D58E7F0F_1_201_a.heic" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhphMrJopbbuBmK5wYIaJ0gGh5Ggv--bfXvZvncdQtxoDI4d_g1-N5lTAmfglan7fFNKj9YIZly7lKNut2c6MRbBHIPBa-p1ljzGYNYTZwcZ1eBkrJWvRv2mj6P1k902b6vdj-OEVbTdeLkca3RzDIaLvl5_zueOCJKIvLFy5UjgXNme7SxITJeBH_k/w150-h200/C2DFBAA7-B85B-4C73-841E-9B75D58E7F0F_1_201_a.heic" width="150" /></a></div>Ohboyohboyohboy. Ohboyohboyohboy. Ohboyohboyohboy<p></p><p>We're going for a walk! And about time. It's been so boring here. I better sit really nice while Mom gets ready, just to make sure.</p><p><i>Last night, I put my fleece-lined walking pants out so that when I got dressed today, I'd be all ready to go. I don't know how Sophie knows the difference in pants, but she does.</i></p><p>Oh, man. She's going to eat first! Well, at least it's Cheerios and yogurt. That doesn't take very long, and she does share the Cheerios. And I looooovvvveeee Cheerios.</p><p><i>She does. I used them as a treat to keep her off the table when we are eating. Now, every time I get the box out, she thinks they are for her😂</i></p><p>Here come the shoes!!!!! Now I know we're going to go for a walk! She only wears those shoes when we go for a walk. Ohboyohboyohboy. And here comes my harness and leash (I wish she'd just let me walk without them.) Ohboyohboyohboy. And she's getting a poop sack!!!!! Ohboyohboyohboy</p><p>See you later. I gotta go before she changes her mind!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcalHGMdtCVoOY6bk2SsejpOJ2gUTgEqyYK-pf89iamm0Bp-5Vh8U2AhTnLCMTV4JjA81utpGeLU3k20mcg3J301nF6MFxZSphywx1W2-MUiSitvkgUO8HlYClkllO2lPUj-TfNCIiJxlwkuAda-R--2qvBSJy721I7YZ_k8tzoivN7Lh2WTDQ4t8V/s4032/D59899F1-C47F-4A61-8652-37A244224F27.heic" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcalHGMdtCVoOY6bk2SsejpOJ2gUTgEqyYK-pf89iamm0Bp-5Vh8U2AhTnLCMTV4JjA81utpGeLU3k20mcg3J301nF6MFxZSphywx1W2-MUiSitvkgUO8HlYClkllO2lPUj-TfNCIiJxlwkuAda-R--2qvBSJy721I7YZ_k8tzoivN7Lh2WTDQ4t8V/w150-h200/D59899F1-C47F-4A61-8652-37A244224F27.heic" width="150" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">This post originally appeared on Coffee With Chloe.</div>Deb Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861392500601183208noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1015645269607993268.post-57285049983446207692023-03-07T19:37:00.003-06:002023-03-07T19:37:58.842-06:007/31 #sol23. A Walmart Trip That Made Me Smile<p>A lot of times, a trip to Walmart makes me grouchy. Too many people. Long lines. And I always spend more than I planned. Many years ago I took a class where a guy said every time he drives past Walmart, he should just throw $50 out the window. </p><p>I kind of feel the same way.</p><p>But today, a trip to Walmart brought a smile to my face and it still hasn't gone away.</p><p>There I was. Standing in a random aisle, checking out random things when I heard</p><p>"Mrs. Day? Is that you, Mrs. Day?"</p><p>Five years after retirement, and I still turn and smile when I hear my name.</p><p>It was my <a href="https://deb-day.blogspot.com/2016/03/solsc-331-sol16-those-kids.html" target="_blank">teacher hater from my credit recovery class.</a></p><p>He gave me a big hug and shared his life with me. The first thing he did was whip out his phone and show me pictures of his two baby girls, and then, he introduced me to his girlfriend who obviously loves him. He's got a good job, although he's looking for something else. He just looks happy. </p><p>Even today, the best part of teaching is connecting with students. Although now, I get to see them as adults and smile because they have created a good life for themselves.</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">This post originally appeared on Coffee With Chloe.</div>Deb Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861392500601183208noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1015645269607993268.post-49961098075892936982023-03-06T09:36:00.002-06:002023-03-06T09:36:46.533-06:006/31 #sol23 #CelebrateMonday<p><i> <a href="https://ams1782blog.wordpress.com/2023/03/06/day-6-hot-take-on-mondays/" target="_blank">Antoinette posted a slice</a> this morning that dovetailed right into what I was thinking.</i></p><p>I have always liked Mondays. Probably because it seemed like I spent most of Sunday getting ready for it.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUgwb6iYZAEkKGhvbVnqvQQESVoXLzmzdYY8Ns4UoVbX2MKVtlkKusrUyy-Q9Fv13G6dSFRXtKWx-0oA83lYrDPd_IaIDUK4Ed0bEwsjeOmgBo6BOqf6WomOuMTb8mrN6Y1po9jh83PhDozPZsuWS3BXXeVwx-oEfqUBJPJmvgxMflIlwbvdN9j1YP/s733/funny-monday-memes-ourmindfullife.com-20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="733" data-original-width="550" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUgwb6iYZAEkKGhvbVnqvQQESVoXLzmzdYY8Ns4UoVbX2MKVtlkKusrUyy-Q9Fv13G6dSFRXtKWx-0oA83lYrDPd_IaIDUK4Ed0bEwsjeOmgBo6BOqf6WomOuMTb8mrN6Y1po9jh83PhDozPZsuWS3BXXeVwx-oEfqUBJPJmvgxMflIlwbvdN9j1YP/s320/funny-monday-memes-ourmindfullife.com-20.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But on Mondays, I was ready for the week. I was organized and looked like I knew what I was doing. At least for Monday.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I was the annoyingly cheerful person who posted motivational Monday memes and used the #CelebrateMonday hashtag on Twitter.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmdZNfmHDerEZccQRCxXU7L1pZcr-DnFLrYpTVqVUIsc_n9CDElzmQJVnr0E2KB_xVTskla5AuXnmsMM9SNA9HSpVUw9tusp3rujJ14UVKk4A68J0fZmmGxAbBJNDvCQIkgzoUza5sO5EjKXQkAAh-J6ddZZh6rIFhgwiwQaAbX9UkRTT5dnH6z7ZY/s885/MondayQuotes1.webp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="885" data-original-width="610" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmdZNfmHDerEZccQRCxXU7L1pZcr-DnFLrYpTVqVUIsc_n9CDElzmQJVnr0E2KB_xVTskla5AuXnmsMM9SNA9HSpVUw9tusp3rujJ14UVKk4A68J0fZmmGxAbBJNDvCQIkgzoUza5sO5EjKXQkAAh-J6ddZZh6rIFhgwiwQaAbX9UkRTT5dnH6z7ZY/s320/MondayQuotes1.webp" width="221" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But, now I'm retired. And Mondays are awesome! While the rest of the world is going to work, I am sitting in my pajamas, drinking more coffee than I need. I don't shower til 9:00 at least, and then I may put my robe back on. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I sit leisurely in my recliner, watching the Today show, and making a to-do list of things I will try to do this week. But if not, they can be done next week, except for the bathroom. That is an absolute must-do today. Oh. And birthday cards. There are a couple coming up this week.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I may walk Sophie. I might go to the grocery store. I might dust and vaccum. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Or I might read my book all day. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMrhq2JHufJYUmfj49p9pIepLJUuFSL1d06wQt_xEYv628J5UHHeifUcTZHpmfxxCk8I6UeatcqsOOumus-R7w0vWwqWUZoitZteHfiiuAerZAf_s26Vn0snICDl44hnpiebyCz4G7eDi0aeQqYbC_z__s0f2iZq9i3O4PM6V-TcStIWti2zf4qAl-/s900/4-happy-on-monday-retired-teacher-retirement-gift-haselshirt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="671" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMrhq2JHufJYUmfj49p9pIepLJUuFSL1d06wQt_xEYv628J5UHHeifUcTZHpmfxxCk8I6UeatcqsOOumus-R7w0vWwqWUZoitZteHfiiuAerZAf_s26Vn0snICDl44hnpiebyCz4G7eDi0aeQqYbC_z__s0f2iZq9i3O4PM6V-TcStIWti2zf4qAl-/s320/4-happy-on-monday-retired-teacher-retirement-gift-haselshirt.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><p><br /></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">This post originally appeared on Coffee With Chloe.</div>Deb Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861392500601183208noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1015645269607993268.post-78689926889933108322023-03-05T15:26:00.001-06:002023-03-05T15:26:38.172-06:005/31 #sol23 Down a Rabbit Hole<p> I am not a late-day slicer, but I went down a rabbit hole today that threw off my whole morning.</p><p>Today, you see, would have been my grandparent's wedding anniversary. I don't know how or why I know that it is March 5th, but I always remember the date. It wasn't like they celebrated it (that I knew of anyway). I don't even remember them being overly affectionate. I just know the date.</p><p>But that started the trip down the hole.</p><p>I didn't know the year. </p><p>First, I looked for a printed copy of my dad's family tree. Maybe that would tell me. But no. Something I've put my hands on several times a year is nowhere to be found. </p><p>Then I went to <a href="https://www.familysearch.org/en/" target="_blank">Family Search</a>, a free ancestry site where I have an account. I did find out they were married in 1931, but, oddly, no marriage certificate.</p><p>I kept searching. </p><p>When I clicked on Grandma's name, her family came up and some things had been added since the last time I was on this site. One of those things was another sister. One who died the same day she was born. Her birthday? The same as my grandma's.</p><p>Grandma was a twin? Didn't know that.</p><p>Then I looked for a birth certificate. Nothing. But there was a death certificate for the baby that died. </p><p>Curiouser and curiouser.</p><p>I finally dug myself out of the hole and moved on. </p><p>But I have a feeling I'll be heading back down.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7WfRqvV_T4zK55wNo1lb_ICMhvl0fN2giqcArd2GSE1X28IBMA2VmD6y5irdjjQA2haSoqTemh_0-wJppU9-p7TIHN1dW58Xm9HByctUo0KIJVtUWYemU5ji2N754mYACL-cHYC2BSlizgBoaKVgObSN3lvBwHueMvv2OtB9hWABrU2Cfk76i5i4O/s700/IMG_0312.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="700" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7WfRqvV_T4zK55wNo1lb_ICMhvl0fN2giqcArd2GSE1X28IBMA2VmD6y5irdjjQA2haSoqTemh_0-wJppU9-p7TIHN1dW58Xm9HByctUo0KIJVtUWYemU5ji2N754mYACL-cHYC2BSlizgBoaKVgObSN3lvBwHueMvv2OtB9hWABrU2Cfk76i5i4O/w200-h200/IMG_0312.JPG" title="Just a little writing inspiration" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Just a little writing inspiration</div><br /><p><br /></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">This post originally appeared on Coffee With Chloe.</div>Deb Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861392500601183208noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1015645269607993268.post-48596158883132350122023-03-04T09:19:00.000-06:002023-03-04T09:19:04.232-06:004/31 #sol23. Begin Again (Saturday Morning Ramblings)<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;"><b>Spring exists</b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;"><b>To remind us that</b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;"><b>Everything can</b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;"><b>Begin </b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;"><b>Again</b></span></p><p style="text-align: left;">These words spoke to me this morning as I read them </p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>(Sorry. They aren't mine and no author was listed. Found this on the Poetry Lovers Facebook page)</i></p><p style="text-align: left;">Begin Again</p><p style="text-align: left;">Reconnect</p><p style="text-align: left;">March is giving me that chance. Finding old blogging friends is rejuvenating my writing. And while I know that the middle of March "I don't have anything to write about" blues will rear their ugly head, right now, writing and sharing are fun again. </p><p style="text-align: left;">Begin Again</p><p style="text-align: left;">Reconnect</p><p style="text-align: left;">Sophie and I took a walk yesterday. We hadn't had our daily walk for a couple of months. Too much ice and snow. And definitely too cold. But yesterday---</p><p style="text-align: left;">Spring began working its magic.</p><p style="text-align: left;">Sunny and 40.</p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmAp8QP7LmGRj4PZlAf6vCYR9USu6rQIAnsOk4pX7OZk6z8fUbnRb3-tLcIDgx-NtLIltrRckT4wLqEyGR3bwKzhd7HtNDGgbLcSU70wCeksWcWpd0XeZg5iRXHXPj_UvjlvF1k7WA45HNhrDvDkvvtB1NYVQk0_29DLpGractVw94gCSivt9-fiSK/s2048/IMG_0390.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmAp8QP7LmGRj4PZlAf6vCYR9USu6rQIAnsOk4pX7OZk6z8fUbnRb3-tLcIDgx-NtLIltrRckT4wLqEyGR3bwKzhd7HtNDGgbLcSU70wCeksWcWpd0XeZg5iRXHXPj_UvjlvF1k7WA45HNhrDvDkvvtB1NYVQk0_29DLpGractVw94gCSivt9-fiSK/s320/IMG_0390.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><p style="text-align: left;">Snow is melting, sidewalks are clearing.</p><p></p><p style="text-align: left;">Tulips are peeking up through the dirt (<i>I really need to bring the Santa flag in)</i></p><p style="text-align: left;">Sophie had a blast on our walk. Darting back and forth in front of me (and sometimes behind me), I swear she smelled every fire hydrant, tree, potty spot on our route. I kept reminding myself that this walk was for her, not me. </p><p style="text-align: left;">Begin again.</p><p style="text-align: left;">Reconnect<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">This post originally appeared on Coffee With Chloe.</div>Deb Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861392500601183208noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1015645269607993268.post-53890427986246708152023-03-03T08:29:00.002-06:002023-03-03T08:29:34.364-06:003/31 #solsc Meet Sophie<p><br /><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQrE85o9NNeaN_zpmY8Ott7_cAxwk0F8UfAAIRIQrdT1WAmQ9T3W5AT20-_UVQSc5h3jvHviT2TIPqFbbWOR6YQmQX4aIyrrizxf_SE6sE5DnqU0XSBeiyRRsCnhVAArrOws-g41DHQ-vfUNjjWL8uxYHkTw3TuM1XDT_qydvTBLvZKGGYLnz5y74w/s2590/80997BAA-109F-48AB-BAF0-BECB722828F7.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2590" data-original-width="2506" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQrE85o9NNeaN_zpmY8Ott7_cAxwk0F8UfAAIRIQrdT1WAmQ9T3W5AT20-_UVQSc5h3jvHviT2TIPqFbbWOR6YQmQX4aIyrrizxf_SE6sE5DnqU0XSBeiyRRsCnhVAArrOws-g41DHQ-vfUNjjWL8uxYHkTw3TuM1XDT_qydvTBLvZKGGYLnz5y74w/s320/80997BAA-109F-48AB-BAF0-BECB722828F7.jpeg" width="310" /></a></div><b>Some Things About Me, Sophie (not Mom)</b><div><b><br /></b></div><div>Hi! My name is Sophie and I am one and a half. I’ll be two this summer. My birthday is the same as my dad’s! Mom said I should introduce myself since she’s writing on here I thought, why not? I’m kinda bored anyway. </div><div><br /></div><div>1. The number one, most important thing you should know about me is I like to play! All day! From the time I get up in the morning until Mom makes me take a nap or go to bed, I like to run and tug and race around the yard. I like to play with other dogs, and with kids, but mostly with Mom and Dad.</div><div><br /></div><div>2 Squeaky chew toys are the best ‘cause if no one will play with me, I can just chew and squeak. All day long.</div><div><p></p><p>3. Rocks are the best toy, though. I love ‘em! Every day when there isn’t any snow I find a rock to play with. I can make them jump! Can you do that? I also like to just suck on them. I don't chew them. They're too hard. But sometimes, if I'm kind of nervous, I just hold them in my mouth and everything is all better. I try to sneak them in the house, but Mom is pretty good at noticing if I do that.</p><p>4. I can talk. And one of these days, Mom will get a video to prove it!</p><p>5. I hate naps. But Mom says I have to settle down sometime and she makes me. If I don't take a nap, she says I get grouchy! I don't think I do, but when Mom makes me rest, I usually fall asleep for a little bit.</p><p>6. I LOVE to go in the car. We almost always go somewhere fun! Sometimes it takes a really long time to go somewhere. This winter we got in the car and drove FOREVER! When we stopped a couple of times we stayed in little rooms and I had to be really really quiet. I hate that. But finally, we got to a house and my Aunt Sue and Uncle Larry were there and it had a big backyard and there was no snow and I could run and run and run. And there were really nice rocks! That was the best! </p><p>7. I'm learning to be really good when I go with Mom and Dad places. Sometimes they go places that let dogs come. I really like to go to those places. I have to be really good, but Mom usually brings me a toy or a bone to play with. And sometimes I find a rock.</p><p>Well, I've got a new bone to break in, so I'm going to go now. Mom says she might let me talk to you guys again if I'm really good, so I'll try! </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBRebyBkQddwOAsRELksU2jQvkN79pvKmB7KNmwubo_ssERz4UskPmKx_EjbpNRdOJ1UPOCG_gC3A1x-je6a-hiPWmFE8AK5_xFaXLTUcvhH7kZZcVWeMPhlRrYcMofHlRlPqa7TeuN6-BRTWilV_su0JFMwi3pQZ2LfI99TiIVTFpW-OA07pJV-tn/s3024/AE78DA65-F557-4C2C-91A1-C0E3CC951268.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2736" data-original-width="3024" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBRebyBkQddwOAsRELksU2jQvkN79pvKmB7KNmwubo_ssERz4UskPmKx_EjbpNRdOJ1UPOCG_gC3A1x-je6a-hiPWmFE8AK5_xFaXLTUcvhH7kZZcVWeMPhlRrYcMofHlRlPqa7TeuN6-BRTWilV_su0JFMwi3pQZ2LfI99TiIVTFpW-OA07pJV-tn/w200-h181/AE78DA65-F557-4C2C-91A1-C0E3CC951268.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div><p>See you later!</p><p>Sophie</p><p><br /></p></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">This post originally appeared on Coffee With Chloe.</div>Deb Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861392500601183208noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1015645269607993268.post-86402578868136097952023-03-02T10:26:00.002-06:002023-03-02T10:26:45.892-06:002/31 #solsc 10 Things About Me<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivuM3TlUuKnkxzFxJz127EEB8WYaLNwwrTB11qm-qKHxxeYSrRgXOkhN8jy18eHkeBD0R3jZES7yGKHoyNtnLdYP83Ir9l4ZqXG1G9vSeyNuLqoleDaiHx7KX_9jC_MqJaDh5Yw5I1Wk9oEcxmFlrMFqwSAHBQMAfYK8zsxss9YJzpLxoe0RSElVGb/s716/25887312-FA31-4ED3-A51A-1027B090A6E0.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="695" data-original-width="716" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivuM3TlUuKnkxzFxJz127EEB8WYaLNwwrTB11qm-qKHxxeYSrRgXOkhN8jy18eHkeBD0R3jZES7yGKHoyNtnLdYP83Ir9l4ZqXG1G9vSeyNuLqoleDaiHx7KX_9jC_MqJaDh5Yw5I1Wk9oEcxmFlrMFqwSAHBQMAfYK8zsxss9YJzpLxoe0RSElVGb/w200-h194/25887312-FA31-4ED3-A51A-1027B090A6E0.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div><b>10 Things About Me</b><div>1. Married for 39 years with 2 kids and 7 grandkids. I don’t know how I ended up with 7 grandkids. I’m not old enough for that!</div><div><br /></div><div>2. I went to college as a nursing major, but changed to education as soon as I set foot on campus.</div><div><br /></div><div>3. I subbed/taught/subbed for 35 years. Started in 7th grade, finished with high school kids. When people ask me what I taught, I usually respond with, “anything I could”. In reality, general English, Creative Writing, Speech, a variety of reading classes. </div><div><br /></div><div>4. I am and always will be a school geek. August is the beginning of a new year. I love back to school sales. There is nothing better than new pens and notebooks.</div><div><br /></div><div>5. My husband and I love a good road trip (Sophie does too!). We plan those much like I planned units in school. But then usually throw out the day by day plans and fly by the seat of our pants.</div><div><br /></div><div>6. I love craft beers and good red wine.</div><div><br /></div><div>7. I hate everything about bananas—smell, taste, texture. Ask anyone. Family, friends, former students will all tell you the same thing. Students used to have to eat them in the hall if they brought them as a snack. My husband eats one every night IN THE KITCHEN and puts the peel in a sack before putting it in the garbage. I’m kind of dictator about them!</div><div><br /></div><div>8. I’d go back to teaching if Hogwarts <strike>called</strike> sent an owl.</div><div><br /></div><div>9. I live in northeast Iowa, but Maui is the home of my heart and soul.</div><div><br /></div><div>10. I would eat ice cream every single day if I could. Chocolate in any form (but not mint), peanut butter or salted caramel are my go tos. Also, a good brand, not a store brand. Kind of picky, aren’t I. But my mom always told me that life is too short to read bad books or eat bad ice cream. Some things are just worth the extra price.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><p><br /></p><p></p></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">This post originally appeared on Coffee With Chloe.</div>Deb Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861392500601183208noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1015645269607993268.post-35654993545766662872023-03-01T08:01:00.002-06:002023-03-01T08:01:52.660-06:001/31 #solsc Hello, Again!<p>Years ago, I was a regular here at TWT. I wrote every Tuesday. I loved the March challenge.I felt most myself when I wrote frequently. In those days, this blog was know as <i>Coffee With Chloe</i> and I had a little help writing from our dog, Chloe.</p><p>But Chloe passed away in a few years ago, and I had a hard time coming back to this blog. So, awhile back, I renamed the blog <a href="http://deb-day.blogspot.com/2021/10/choosing-grace.html">Stories With Sophie</a> in honor of our new pup. But the writing hasn’t come.</p><p>I’ve gone back and forth about blogging again for a week or so. I haven’t joined in on the March fun for three years. I just didn’t believe I had anything to say. In the past, I was a teacher of writers who also wrote. I believed that all I wrote about were my students and my classes. </p><p>But, yesterday, I took a trip down memory lane and read many of my March posts. It was kind of like visiting with an old friend. And I wrote about a lot more than school. There were posts about Chloe, the grandkids, the weather, the lake, and friends. I had a lot of to write about, and I will again. I just have to pay attention.</p><p>And as I read, I started to get the “bug”. When I found this post, I knew I had to try again.<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjzMid0s0y9qWrDwJWsOcZLf_eMnWWdD4_lFD5cNJ2J970vx6tzxu5LLFUiXX7Xg0upHOTs7Z5tTFD7cYIzd9g5KgduN8BD2wZO1UZUOUe94J-iuHP2A6M95nW-9Eh9TlAhbOQAlgiLctUzsVhhOjhupjX5ogKO8yM_ZNqUFAL5mwa3QWYmRRmWEFs/s1668/64FCEA86-15A9-43CE-92B8-8B536B21521C.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1488" data-original-width="1668" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjzMid0s0y9qWrDwJWsOcZLf_eMnWWdD4_lFD5cNJ2J970vx6tzxu5LLFUiXX7Xg0upHOTs7Z5tTFD7cYIzd9g5KgduN8BD2wZO1UZUOUe94J-iuHP2A6M95nW-9Eh9TlAhbOQAlgiLctUzsVhhOjhupjX5ogKO8yM_ZNqUFAL5mwa3QWYmRRmWEFs/s320/64FCEA86-15A9-43CE-92B8-8B536B21521C.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p><br /></p><p>And, today, March 1st, I feel the same excitement and apprehension I did in 2011. Today it starts. Today I reconnect with my blog and my first writing community.</p><p>I can’t wait to see who is here!</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">This post originally appeared on Coffee With Chloe.</div>Deb Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861392500601183208noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1015645269607993268.post-80045342613461287982022-03-06T19:29:00.003-06:002022-03-06T19:29:54.416-06:00Needing To Be Organized<p> Retirement has taught me I am a woman who:</p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;">needs to be organized</p></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;"> needs a schedule</p></blockquote></blockquote><p> And because of that, </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;">a woman who needs her planner and her lists.</p></blockquote></blockquote><p><i>Seriously. How does anyone function without a planner or a list? And really good pens to write with?ˆ
</i></p><p>Oh. And post-its. Those are essential.</p><p>With post-its, I make all kinds of lists</p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>To-od</li><li>Packing for the lake</li><li>Packing for weekend trips</li><li>Futures projects</li><li>Books I’ve read</li><li>Books to read</li><li>Writing ideas—<i>even though I never get to most of them</i>. </li></ul><div>And then I stick them in my planner.</div><p></p><p>My planner is my daily guide. I write in appointments, bills to be paid, birthdays and anniversaries. I’ve added Read, Write, Walk, to each day so that I’ve scheduled them in. And it really is helping me to stick to goals I made at the beginning of the month-<i>my own March challenge-</i>I wasn’t reading or writing anymore and I just didn’t feel like me because of it. So scheduling these two things each day and writing them in my planner has reminded me they are important. It feels good to check them off each day.</p><p>And if I falter, well, that’s also something I’ve learned—Grace.</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">This post originally appeared on Coffee With Chloe.</div>Deb Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861392500601183208noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1015645269607993268.post-33147349023307459142022-01-06T10:07:00.000-06:002022-01-06T10:07:16.205-06:00Sophie Says Hi<p></p><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiK5Vi_dScwjX4WVbOMe-fQagHHizV4ki8Oa4Ra6hA0spjZWLyrWQJwS0AW43YWJbzM84NsyICaHeZBJdDJBrtd5nCoJ92DyvjH6Hmt8SaFkTnYqLo_zUiwTDTeY3mSvLwPndLFBH1j2ASvGavhUZx7IYR1N4KdzFYQNkGyogZtL7X7hJlBcZDoMC8r=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiK5Vi_dScwjX4WVbOMe-fQagHHizV4ki8Oa4Ra6hA0spjZWLyrWQJwS0AW43YWJbzM84NsyICaHeZBJdDJBrtd5nCoJ92DyvjH6Hmt8SaFkTnYqLo_zUiwTDTeY3mSvLwPndLFBH1j2ASvGavhUZx7IYR1N4KdzFYQNkGyogZtL7X7hJlBcZDoMC8r=s320" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Hi, Everybody. My name is Sophie and I am six months old. Mommy calls me Sophie Grace when I’m in trouble. And Daddy calls me Sophie Lou when he sings to me. But you can just call me Sophie. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Mommy said it was time for me to in..intro…oh shoot, I forgot. Anyway, I’m going to tell you all about me! She says Chloe used to write once in awhile and maybe I would like it too. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Ooooo. I’ll be back! The neighbor dogs are out and I have to go say hi! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Ok. I’m back.. I had to potty too. Good thing Mommy reminded me!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Mommy says I should tell you about some of the things I really like, so I will.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">FOOD! I really, really like food! I’ll eat anything. There’s always some really good stuff in the kitchen up where I can’t reach and Mommy and Daddy are always telling me no, no, no whenever I try to get it, but if I sit nice they give me a treat.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Daddy gives me a bite of banana every night and Mommy makes me sweet potatoes. Those are really good! I also really, really like applesauce! Well , mostly the cup ‘ cuz I can chew on it and play with it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I love being outside. There’s a lot of fun things to do. The best was chasing leaves. But now there is snow! Do you know about snow? It’s the best! I can play in it, dig in it, run in it and EAT it! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I like going in the car. We mostly go some place fun. Sometimes we go places that have other dogs. I have lots of dog friends. There’s Stella (she’s my favorite) and Winston, and TeddyMollyMaverick, and Katie. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Oops. I forgot to go #2. Be right back!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">False alarm!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Orrrrrr, maybe not. Wish I could go run in the backyard. That would help. But I have to wait til Daddy wakes up.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Let’s talk about my toys.. I have lots of them! I like my crazy ball the bestest. It make noise! Oo, oo, oo, I like all my squeaky toys. And stuff I can chew on. Mommy is always taking stuff from me though and says leave it. I guess I’m not ‘posed to chew on some stuff.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I’m getting kind of sleepy. Mommy says it’s nap time. At night I have to sleep in my kennel, but nap time I can sleep any where I want to. Sometimes I even sleep on Mommy’s lap! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Zzzzzz</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">This post originally appeared on Coffee With Chloe.</div>Deb Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861392500601183208noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1015645269607993268.post-32231599936464870522021-10-01T11:50:00.000-05:002021-10-01T11:50:24.235-05:00Choosing Grace<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NAhPc_S_7PI/YVZd7kdK7CI/AAAAAAAADAE/lewPWv48rPY3SGTR8fSo__5cggP0_QHdgCLcBGAsYHQ/s4032/IMG_0749.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="171" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NAhPc_S_7PI/YVZd7kdK7CI/AAAAAAAADAE/lewPWv48rPY3SGTR8fSo__5cggP0_QHdgCLcBGAsYHQ/w320-h171/IMG_0749.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>Let's face it.</p><p>The last 18 months have been tough on everyone. Doesn't matter how you have spent the pandemic, it's been tough.</p><p>I was toughest on myself. Didn't seem like I was "accomplishing" anything (I'm retired. Just what do I think I have to accomplish?) I just quit everything for a while. </p><p>In January, I chose <span style="font-family: Great Vibes;">Grace</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> as my One Little Word. It has given me permission to forgive myself for not getting things done. It gave me permission to not worry about writing (again). Once we got Sophie, it gave me permission to not have a spotless house (like it ever was!).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Great Vibes";">Grace</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">I started thinking about my writing and my blog last week. I kept wondering how I ever kept it going when Chloe was Sophie's age. So I went back and looked. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">I didn't.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Great Vibes";">Grace</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">I began my blog when Chloe was about 6 months old. Not 2 or 3 months. But Chloe did give me lots of stories to tell!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Great Vibes";">Grace</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">One of the things I struggled with after Chloe passed was what to do with the blog. Archive it? Nope. Start a new one? Nope.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">Renaming seemed like the way to go.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">So welcome to <span style="color: #e06666; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Stories With Sophie. </span><span>She's got a few to tell.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><b></b></i></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><b><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3ot5wapuX7w/YVc8CH76FhI/AAAAAAAADAM/PVfSdbedXloQv33upgR-KyOnZpuYbMynwCLcBGAsYHQ/s4032/IMG_0662.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3ot5wapuX7w/YVc8CH76FhI/AAAAAAAADAM/PVfSdbedXloQv33upgR-KyOnZpuYbMynwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_0662.jpeg" width="240" /></a></b></i></span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><b><br /><span style="color: #e06666;"><br /></span></b></i></span><p></p><p><br /></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">This post originally appeared on Coffee With Chloe.</div>Deb Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861392500601183208noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1015645269607993268.post-41533046009181823792021-08-03T10:00:00.001-05:002021-08-03T10:00:12.746-05:00Chloe<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GIsj-MP9Pcs/YQlXLGVl8KI/AAAAAAAAC_c/hT5hAmi5h6Y7SOH7JXHEcQATIzyiIJcHACPcBGAYYCw/s2048/41D8BC20-5EE1-4002-9C38-A6D81EAC65BD_1_201_a.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GIsj-MP9Pcs/YQlXLGVl8KI/AAAAAAAAC_c/hT5hAmi5h6Y7SOH7JXHEcQATIzyiIJcHACPcBGAYYCw/s320/41D8BC20-5EE1-4002-9C38-A6D81EAC65BD_1_201_a.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">After Chloe died, I saw her all the time out of the corner of my eye</div><p></p><p></p><ul><li>laying on the love seat, staring out the window</li><li>on "her" corner of the couch</li><li>in the kennel</li></ul><div>On walks, I'd smile at things I knew she'd have to stop and investigate. On really tough days, when I often cried while I walked, I'm pretty sure she sent my new friend Henry (a big, beautiful black doodle) to give me hugs. Those first few months were especially hard. Chloe was such an important part of our lives.</div><div><br /></div><div>Gradually, things have gotten better.</div><div><br /></div><div>We still have tears once in a while, but more often we laugh about the silly things she did. We talk about her naturally, share Chloe stories, and ...</div><div><br /></div><div>Well, we knew it was time.</div><div><br /></div><div>And I think Chloe knew it was time.</div><div><br /></div><div>I haven't "seen" her in a while. </div><div><br /></div><div>And on Sunday, when we picked out Sophie, I'm pretty sure she was smiling down on us.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OjG0O9NwcHw/YQlR_sM6pKI/AAAAAAAAC_U/NEh1a8fE16YtqWpAoLFvXOMPYF-Jx9wgwCPcBGAYYCw/s1218/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-08-03%2Bat%2B9.25.28%2BAM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="766" data-original-width="1218" height="201" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OjG0O9NwcHw/YQlR_sM6pKI/AAAAAAAAC_U/NEh1a8fE16YtqWpAoLFvXOMPYF-Jx9wgwCPcBGAYYCw/s320/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-08-03%2Bat%2B9.25.28%2BAM.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">This post originally appeared on Coffee With Chloe.</div>Deb Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861392500601183208noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1015645269607993268.post-40194461069700197022021-08-02T10:27:00.001-05:002021-08-02T10:27:20.683-05:00She Chose Us<p> We knew when we lost Chloe last fall, that there would be another dog in our lives. As my husband tells everyone, "We're dog people". </p><p>And we are.</p><p>And our home has been really empty. </p><p>But in a couple of weeks, it will be full of puppy love.</p><p><br /></p><p></p><div style="text-align: center;">Meet Sophie.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FJqNIuVrqGE/YQgM59aNXZI/AAAAAAAAC-0/0snhicOkAos7ZtbCluLOhQCmDMic8IMUwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/08C06B62-2B3F-484D-909B-47B449CC9925.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1856" height="263" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FJqNIuVrqGE/YQgM59aNXZI/AAAAAAAAC-0/0snhicOkAos7ZtbCluLOhQCmDMic8IMUwCLcBGAsYHQ/w238-h263/08C06B62-2B3F-484D-909B-47B449CC9925.heic" width="238" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Everything just fell into place...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>She came from our niece's cousin on the other side of her family</li><li>She was born on my husband's birthday</li><li>From pictures, this is the pup both of us "secretly" wanted</li></ul><div>From the moment we stepped into Brian and Karen's house, Sophie (because she definitely is a Sophie), was not afraid. She came right to us, brought us toys to play with, let us hold her, and gave us puppy kisses. It was almost like she was saying, "Pick me! Pick me! I'm the one you want!"</div><div><br /></div><div>She chose us.</div><div><br /></div><div>And we couldn't be happier!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-60sZui7Ec-8/YQgOllQH49I/AAAAAAAAC-8/3K3IEhNIMooQp39RblfAN1oBcRHGlja1QCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/6E681BB1-F005-43CB-A83E-E80058087C0E.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="303" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-60sZui7Ec-8/YQgOllQH49I/AAAAAAAAC-8/3K3IEhNIMooQp39RblfAN1oBcRHGlja1QCLcBGAsYHQ/w227-h303/6E681BB1-F005-43CB-A83E-E80058087C0E.heic" width="227" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div></div><br /><p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">This post originally appeared on Coffee With Chloe.</div>Deb Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861392500601183208noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1015645269607993268.post-29418221049602942802021-08-01T10:08:00.000-05:002021-08-01T10:08:06.074-05:00Regroup<p><span style="font-family: Permanent Marker;">Day 1</span> </p><p>Start. </p><p>Just start.</p><p>Put your fingers on the keys.</p><p>Let the words come. Let them choose themselves. </p><p>You know they are there.</p><p>Waiting for you to release them.</p><p>Start. </p><p>Just start.</p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: Satisfy;">August</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">August has always been the beginning of a new year for me. Much more than January. When August 1st came around, it seemed like things were shiny and new again. New school clothes, new shoes, new school supplies, and a new calendar. Even now, having been retired for four years, it's the start of a new year. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">And today will also be the start of something new in our house.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">Today we pick out our new puppy.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">We know her name is Sophie. We just don't know which one it will be.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">When we chose Jake and Chloe, they each crawled into my lap and cuddled. I guess, really, they chose us. So today when we go looking at puppies, we'll wait and see which little girl chooses us.</span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">This post originally appeared on Coffee With Chloe.</div>Deb Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861392500601183208noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1015645269607993268.post-17290496191730289712021-04-02T09:58:00.003-05:002021-04-02T09:58:57.188-05:00Pause Before Spring<p><span style="font-family: Permanent Marker;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Permanent Marker;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6G6dZPtMkkI/X3X8EQP_PyI/AAAAAAAAC4s/qCV9rSkzX5ge4RpSe2h-iH6U4vF3dm0LwCPcBGAYYCw/s600/starfishmagic2-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="170" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6G6dZPtMkkI/X3X8EQP_PyI/AAAAAAAAC4s/qCV9rSkzX5ge4RpSe2h-iH6U4vF3dm0LwCPcBGAYYCw/w170-h170/starfishmagic2-1.jpg" width="170" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: Permanent Marker;"><br /> </span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Permanent Marker;">Pause</span>...</p><p style="text-align: center;">I did that. </p><p>I haven't written anything in a couple of weeks and I certainly haven't blogged (January 11 was my last post!). But, it's hard to visit <i>Coffee With Chloe</i> when Chloe isn't around. </p><p>And COVID absolutely paused me.</p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>no visiting </li><li>no traveling</li><li>no grandkids</li><li>no holidays</li></ul><div>Just Greg and I.</div><div><br /></div><div>But now we have TWO shots! We can start making plans! </div><div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Josh and Kara's wedding</li><li>vacations with Sue and Larry</li><li>visiting friends</li><li>CONCERTS </li><li>and most importantly, family time</li></ul><div>My OLW, <span style="font-family: Satisfy;">Grace, </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">allowed the pause this year. </span><span style="font-family: Satisfy;">Grace </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">gives me time to think. </span><span style="font-family: Satisfy;">Grace</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> gives me progress, not perfection. </span></div></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">But now might be the time to </span><span style="font-family: Shadows Into Light;">SPRING </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">action--or at least </span><span style="font-family: "Shadows Into Light";">SPRING</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> into my writing life again. Time to get into those writing projects I've been dabbling with. Time to make some plans. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Shadows Into Light";"><b>SPRING</b></span></div><p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">This post originally appeared on Coffee With Chloe.</div>Deb Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861392500601183208noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1015645269607993268.post-21735560293670683192021-01-11T09:43:00.005-06:002021-01-11T09:44:32.834-06:00#SOSMagic: The Pile<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1uEgViq5x5Y/X_xvvCaWmEI/AAAAAAAAC64/42uL8pqFFv0Oew3KpW6v2A_v6t8-wVw3wCLcBGAsYHQ/s4032/IMG_0041.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="260" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1uEgViq5x5Y/X_xvvCaWmEI/AAAAAAAAC64/42uL8pqFFv0Oew3KpW6v2A_v6t8-wVw3wCLcBGAsYHQ/w195-h260/IMG_0041.jpeg" width="195" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>Here it is.</p><p></p><p>My TBR pile.</p><p>All the books Mom has given me in the last few months. She says they're great. I'll really enjoy them. </p><p>And yet. </p><p>They sit beside my bookshelf.</p><p>Waiting.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Waiting for me to dive in and devour them now that I have more time to read.</p><p>But, I don't.</p><p>Because --</p><p>Every. Single. One. is a World War II novel. Most are set in Germany. Some in camps. Some about strong women who fight. Some about survival.</p><p>But I just can't do it.</p><p>With all the crap going on in the <strike>world</strike> United States, I just can't read these. Right now I need books that are happy, fluffy, uplifting. A good mystery will do, so will a story of family. But WWII novels, dystopian novels. Nope.</p><p>So for now, these are going to stay piled beside my bookshelf.</p><p>Waiting.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">This post originally appeared on Coffee With Chloe.</div>Deb Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861392500601183208noreply@blogger.com5