tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71836544073898934092024-02-19T19:07:15.975-05:00Galley WenchMy life with an engineer I bought on eHarmony, a dog, three cats, and a boat that needs a lot of work. It's more exciting than it sounds, I swear.Susan Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00341374809477774600noreply@blogger.comBlogger219125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183654407389893409.post-87257573503910715102010-07-12T17:17:00.000-04:002010-07-12T17:17:48.177-04:00DO SOMETHING for Pete's sake!<object height="227" width="400"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true" /><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always" /><param name="movie" value="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=12933322&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=&fullscreen=1" /><embed src="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=12933322&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=&fullscreen=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="400" height="227"></embed></object><a href="http://vimeo.com/12933322">Oil Spill Timeline</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/user3849600">RightChange</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.Susan Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00341374809477774600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183654407389893409.post-86264910899198875762010-03-16T06:26:00.000-04:002010-03-16T06:26:44.503-04:00A touching storyAs a bagpiper, I play many gigs. Recently I was asked by a funeral director to play at a grave-side service for a homeless man. He had no family or friends, so the service was to be at a pauper's cemetery in the Kentucky back-country. <br />
<br />
As I was not familiar with the backwoods, I got lost; and being a typical man I didn't stop for directions. I finally arrived an hour late and saw the funeral guy had evidently gone and the hearse was nowhere in sight. <br />
<br />
There were only the diggers and crew left and they were eating lunch. I felt badly and apologized to the men for being late. I went to the side of the grave and looked down and the vault lid was already in place. I didn't know what else to do, so I started to play. <br />
<br />
The workers put down their lunches and began to gather around. I played out my heart and soul for this man with no family and friends. I played like I've never played before for this homeless man. <br />
<br />
And as I played "Amazing Grace" the workers began to weep. They wept, I wept, we all wept together. When I finished I packed up my bagpipes and started for my car. Though my head hung low, my heart was full. <br />
<br />
As I was opening the door to my car, I heard one of the workers say, "Sweet Mother of Jesus, I never seen nothin' like that before and I've been putting in septic tanks for over twenty years." <br />
<br />
<em><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Courtesy Neal Boortz:</span></em>Susan Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00341374809477774600noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183654407389893409.post-54747602493101538572010-02-14T14:30:00.000-05:002010-02-14T14:30:38.044-05:00Happy Valentines Day - our home movie<div style="background-color: #e9e9e9; width: 425px;"><object data="http://aka.zero.jibjab.com/client/zero/ClientZero_EmbedViewer.swf?external_make_id=S2RTqrnAc1BmasyG&service=sendables.jibjab.com&partnerID=JibJab" height="319" id="A64060" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" quality="high" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" wmode="transparent"><param name='wmode' value='transparent'></param><param name='movie' value='http://aka.zero.jibjab.com/client/zero/ClientZero_EmbedViewer.swf?external_make_id=S2RTqrnAc1BmasyG&service=sendables.jibjab.com&partnerID=JibJab'></param><param name='scaleMode' value='showAll'></param><param name='quality' value='high'></param><param name='allowNetworking' value='all'></param><param name='allowFullScreen' value='true' /><param name='FlashVars' value='external_make_id=S2RTqrnAc1BmasyG&service=sendables.jibjab.com&partnerID=JibJab'></param><param name='allowScriptAccess' value='always'></param></object><div style="margin-top: 6px; text-align: center; width: 435px;">Personalize funny videos and birthday <a href="http://sendables.jibjab.com/ecards">eCards</a> at JibJab!</div></div>Susan Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00341374809477774600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183654407389893409.post-74547709765226214582009-12-07T18:30:00.002-05:002009-12-07T18:33:10.374-05:00let's talk billionThe next time you hear a politician use the word 'billion' in a casual manner, think about whether you want the politicians spending YOUR tax money. <br />
<br />
A billion is a difficult number to comprehend but putting that figure into some perspective: <br />
<br />
(A) A billion <em>seconds</em> ago it was 1959 <br />
(B) A billion <em>minutes</em> ago Jesus was alive <br />
(C) A billion <em>hours</em> ago our ancestors were living in the Stone Age <br />
(D) A billion <em>days</em> ago no one walked on the earth on two feet <br />
(E) A billion <em>dollars</em> ago at the rate our government is spending was only 8 hours and 20 minutes agoSusan Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00341374809477774600noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183654407389893409.post-5704809074365410572009-11-11T06:15:00.004-05:002009-11-11T06:27:56.738-05:00working thru my inboxMy <a href="http://bigtownofsavage.blogspot.com/">penpal Dewey</a> sends me the very best stuff, but sometimes it takes me <strike>forever</strike> a few days to catch up with my emails when things get particularly busy. And they've been <em>crazy</em> busy lately. We worked until 8 PM last night if that's any indication of how crazy it is around the office these days. Crazy. <br />
<br />
Anyway, he sent me this one a couple of days ago but I only got around to watching it this morning at 4 AM. How cool is this?<br />
<br />
<object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/2lXh2n0aPyw&rel=0&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=nl&feature=player_embedded&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/2lXh2n0aPyw&rel=0&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=nl&feature=player_embedded&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br />
<br />
By the way, he currently has a video posted on his blog of a singer named Iris Dement whom he introduced me to a few months back (her music, not her personally) (just thought I'd clarify that).<br />
<br />
I got hooked on her music in general and in particular the song she's singing in the video. It always reminds me of England--not because she's English or the song has anything to do with England, but because I heard it for the first time just before we went to England back in the Spring and the song was stuck in my head the whole time we were there. <a href="http://bigtownofsavage.blogspot.com/2009/11/let-mystery-be-iris-dement.html">Listen to Iris sing "Let the Mystery Be"</a> .Susan Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00341374809477774600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183654407389893409.post-6616276573694921592009-11-04T07:09:00.037-05:002009-11-07T04:15:04.816-05:00Angel Earl - Part 1<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie-EQ_in_tHEO86GbDPzaqba7Q6dyE2XpMPdwzvc0TidIAsgs623FGPhsuE8YI7tYD3AbS6RBOBPavE8v_xZ4drpnEFrsrCV8UVABL6dat3rTwW5wJ6rHCtIPfyRAiR1WvsDtNsW2zyKL_/s1600-h/leaving.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400236444377392402" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie-EQ_in_tHEO86GbDPzaqba7Q6dyE2XpMPdwzvc0TidIAsgs623FGPhsuE8YI7tYD3AbS6RBOBPavE8v_xZ4drpnEFrsrCV8UVABL6dat3rTwW5wJ6rHCtIPfyRAiR1WvsDtNsW2zyKL_/s400/leaving.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 252px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 314px;" /></a><br />
<div>After we left the marina a few weeks ago as we headed to our favorite cove to spend the weekend, we got an urgent phone call from one of our dock friends. He wanted to let us know we had discharged some diesel fuel into the water when we pulled out. And when I say "some" what I mean is "quite a bit". As in, a <em>lot</em> of diesel fuel. As in, so much diesel fuel that some people had to leave the dock because they couldn't stand the fumes.<br />
<br />
This was bad news on a number of levels: not only do we have an instinctive aversion to throwing away diesel fuel at $5 gallon, but it is generally considered bad form to asphyxiate your dock neighbors or to leave a layer of pink petroleum on top of the water. Clearly something really bad had happened with our engines which meant something really bad was getting ready to happen to our checkbook.<br />
<br />
To make matters worse, one of our dock neighbors decided to make a stink<em> ("a stink", </em>heh<em>)</em> over our unintentional fuel discharge. He just happens to be in law enforcement and thus just happens to know that discharging fuel into the water can get you slapped with a fine of up to $10,000. And over the course of the weekend while we were away he (allegedly) repeated this several times to other neighbors and (allegedly) vowed to personally insure we received the maximum fine. And he (allegedly) complained so much that everyone on our dock was (allegedly) ready to cut his lines while he was asleep so he would drift off to some other dock where unneighborly types might be better received.<br />
<br />
Anyway, when we were ready to come home at the end of the weekend a friend made the 45 minute trip to meet us at our cove so he could follow us home to make sure we made it okay. Our engines started just fine and there was no more fuel discharge, and as for the mood back at the dock, we returned to find our neighbors had sorted themselves into two camps: (1) the one guy who thought we deserved a $10,000 fine and (2) all our other neighbors who thought the guy in category #1 was a jackass. <br />
</div><div><br />
So, on to the point of this story. Engine trouble. We immediately got our friend and mechanic Steve on the scene, and over the next week he replaced all our fuel lines--all 100 feet of them. <br />
<br />
In addition, I posted a cry for advice on an internet forum for people who own boats like ours. I got several immediate responses, almost all suggesting we needed the tender loving care of a guy called Earl International. Earl is a mechanic who specializes in our specific brand of diesel engine and travels all over the country working on them. In the world of diesel mechanics, Earl is a rock star with a large number of very devoted groupies.<br />
<br />
Lo and behold, a day or two later Earl himself contacted me. He said he'd be in Atlanta in early November and would be happy to figure out what the problem was, and of course we immediately said yes for the same reason you'd say yes if Chet Atkins offered to tune the guitar you bought at a yard sale for $5.<br />
<br />
Last Wednesday Earl International showed up right on schedule and immediately started digging around in the BUB examining the engines and the hoses and other important looking pieces-parts that I have no idea what they do or what they are for. <br />
<br />
He had the calm self-confidence of a surgeon and I had the sensation of being the distraught, worried family member watching a loved one being biopsied right before my eyes.<br />
<br />
To be honest, watching Earl root around in the bowels of the BUB gave me the exact same feeling I had during Morley's rectal tumor <a href="http://morleyandsusan.wordpress.com/">scare</a> a couple of years ago. Now that I think about it, the process was very much the same except the BUB didn't make those funny faces when Earl stuck his hands up its sensitive bits (if you know what I mean) and there was a lot less limping afterwards.<br />
<br />
Anyway, the patient is now resting comfortably and next time I'll give you the report from Earl.<br />
</div>Susan Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00341374809477774600noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183654407389893409.post-31946273903405537702009-10-19T08:26:00.004-04:002009-10-19T09:30:55.901-04:00Brrrr and BUB progress reportIt is cold here in Atlanta. Before I could come to work this morning I had to dig out a sweater and long slacks, and man up with some pantyhose--oh wait, wrong expression--and some shoes other than sandals, and top it off with a trenchcoat before I could brave the cold air between the garage and my car. This is wrong, so very wrong. It isn't even November yet. <br /><br />This global warming is a killer, man.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPCZU5WF9CnUdpj9ZxQOxsidIjRkKGwgzuiO5YdLu1G6yKPZhskqCm1VseM6q3kCWQtCayjsS0MiwhE0gmkC6w5zmA5h0_Lu_gBXngSNuLvyCRPquNmUeeHVovR8sfqcGFk4-JLOnQ7yUn/s1600-h/guestr.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 273px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394286679268358530" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPCZU5WF9CnUdpj9ZxQOxsidIjRkKGwgzuiO5YdLu1G6yKPZhskqCm1VseM6q3kCWQtCayjsS0MiwhE0gmkC6w5zmA5h0_Lu_gBXngSNuLvyCRPquNmUeeHVovR8sfqcGFk4-JLOnQ7yUn/s400/guestr.jpg" /></a>In other news, it just occured to me that we've now owned the Butt Ugly Boat for a bit more than a year. A fifty gallon drum of teak oil and who knows how any dollars later (actually I know how many dollars, I just don't want to think about it right now), things around the BUB look a little different. I've posted some "then" and "now" shots on my website <a href="http://www.susanmohr.com/bay/4550_1_year.htm">here</a>.<br /><br />PS And if you don't know the history of our Butt Ugly Boat, a good place to start is <a href="http://susanmohr.blogspot.com/2008/06/butt-ugly-boat.html">here</a>.Susan Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00341374809477774600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183654407389893409.post-842657547198312742009-10-16T16:31:00.007-04:002009-10-16T16:47:52.980-04:00You peeps are joking, right?<p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoPlainText"><span style="font-family:arial;">Memo to the President and Members of Congress:</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoPlainText"><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></p><ul><li><div style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoPlainText"><span style="font-family:arial;">The U.S. Post Service was established in 1775. You have had 234 years </span><span style="font-family:arial;">to get it right and it is broke.<br /></span><?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></o:p></div></li><li><div style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoPlainText"><span style="font-family:arial;">Social Security was established in 1935. You have had 74 years to </span><span style="font-family:arial;">get it right and it is broke.<br /></span></div></li><li><div style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoPlainText"><span style="font-family:arial;">Fannie Mae was established in 1938. You have had 71 years to get it </span><span style="font-family:arial;">right and it is broke.<br /></span><o:p><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></o:p></div></li><li><div style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoPlainText"><span style="font-family:arial;">War on Poverty started in 1964. You have had 45 years to get it </span><span style="font-family:arial;">right; $1 trillion of our money is confiscated each year and </span><span style="font-family:arial;">nothing has changed since the so-called War on Poverty started. It is broke.<br /></span><o:p><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></o:p></div></li><li><div style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoPlainText"><span style="font-family:arial;">Medicare and Medicaid were established in 1965. You have had 44 </span><span style="font-family:arial;">years to get it right and both of them are broke.<br /></span></div></li><li><div style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoPlainText"><span style="font-family:arial;">Freddie Mac was established in 1970. You have had 39 years to get it </span><span style="font-family:arial;">right and it is broke.<br /></span><o:p><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></o:p></div></li><li><div style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoPlainText"><span style="font-family:arial;">The Department of Energy was created in 1977 to lessen our </span><span style="font-family:arial;">dependence on foreign oil. It has ballooned to 16,000 employees with a </span><span style="font-family:arial;">budget of $24 billion a year and we import more oil than ever before. </span><span style="font-family:arial;">You had 32 years to get it right and it is an abysmal failure.</span></div></li></ul><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoPlainText"><span style="font-family:arial;">You have failed in managing every government program under your control, </span><span style="font-family:arial;">while overspending our tax dollars and wasting our money on pork programs that do nothing more than help with your next reelection.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:arial;">And now you want Americans to believe you can be trusted with a government run health care system?<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:Arial;">Uh, not so much.</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoPlainText"><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoPlainText"><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></p>Susan Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00341374809477774600noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183654407389893409.post-70182528533544107152009-10-14T11:59:00.005-04:002009-10-14T12:06:21.348-04:00One a day is all he can handleI'm not sure everyone knows about this, but recently Morley volunteered to work with a local animal rescue group intent on saving the rare Georgia antelope. <br /><br />He had his first day of rescue work last week, and of course I went along to video him in action:<br /><br /><OBJECT id=BLOG_video-5a653c37ddf730fc class=BLOG_video_class width=320 height=266 contentId="5a653c37ddf730fc"></OBJECT>Susan Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00341374809477774600noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183654407389893409.post-46002686998465778512009-09-09T10:02:00.002-04:002009-09-09T10:07:03.777-04:00we're groovy, babyOne of the guys at the office had this waiting in my email this morning. How did he know that's what we did last weekend? Eerie...<br /><br /><div style='background-color:#e9e9e9; width: 425px;'><object id='A64060' quality='high' data='http://aka.zero.jibjab.com/client/zero/ClientZero_EmbedViewer.swf?external_make_id=Yws2uXT3cTIs094z&service=sendables.jibjab.com&partnerID=JibJab' pluginspage='http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' wmode='transparent' height='319' width='425'><param name='wmode' value='transparent'></param><param name='movie' value='http://aka.zero.jibjab.com/client/zero/ClientZero_EmbedViewer.swf?external_make_id=Yws2uXT3cTIs094z&service=sendables.jibjab.com&partnerID=JibJab'></param><param name='scaleMode' value='showAll'></param><param name='quality' value='high'></param><param name='allowNetworking' value='all'></param><param name='allowFullScreen' value='true' /><param name='FlashVars' value='external_make_id=Yws2uXT3cTIs094z&service=sendables.jibjab.com&partnerID=JibJab'></param><param name='allowScriptAccess' value='always'></param></object><div style='text-align:center; width:435px; margin-top:6px;'>Try JibJab Sendables® <a href='http://sendables.jibjab.com/ecards'>eCards</a> today!</div></div>Susan Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00341374809477774600noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183654407389893409.post-18907502884325462512009-09-04T05:40:00.018-04:002009-09-04T09:42:05.842-04:00marital flashback<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp8p3Qe_tpq9KZmMD3wwHH2BBqC5RVwMXSCFh5UF55IveN425sKGNCmXZqKdbs6UvzCfTUvlsmN3JdqYGhtSUsOnYhaFAGs_cXtO6b_9A1xV5akfkbd7lisWlQk9uZ2-b-gY3vN7Y589bT/s1600-h/sept04.t.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 284px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 202px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377600776853573282" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp8p3Qe_tpq9KZmMD3wwHH2BBqC5RVwMXSCFh5UF55IveN425sKGNCmXZqKdbs6UvzCfTUvlsmN3JdqYGhtSUsOnYhaFAGs_cXtO6b_9A1xV5akfkbd7lisWlQk9uZ2-b-gY3vN7Y589bT/s400/sept04.t.jpg" /></a> Every morning this week I've awoken thinking about what I was doing on the same day one year ago.<br /><br />It was wedding week and things were hopping around here--the main thing hopping being my nerves as I scrambled around taking care of final details such as caterers and flowers and ministers and bagpipers and out of town guests.<br /><br />Which I could have taken care of sooner except we had gone on a mission trip to Nicaragua the week before our wedding.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQqZ0Vx0aJZRUEBv-us3X2ltP5p8-g1ZYomQHETuw_G4tOONNY7jt8kKmxt8iIC9qRvoac9lmxCzqhfbJ7GAGggPTVxh3Pr4KEVEKPUyGC4GZFmqxDsNGzvX-ByNZYsqEvQBNG4eF66e6k/s1600-h/sept04.1.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 170px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377597495983024738" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQqZ0Vx0aJZRUEBv-us3X2ltP5p8-g1ZYomQHETuw_G4tOONNY7jt8kKmxt8iIC9qRvoac9lmxCzqhfbJ7GAGggPTVxh3Pr4KEVEKPUyGC4GZFmqxDsNGzvX-ByNZYsqEvQBNG4eF66e6k/s200/sept04.1.jpg" /></a>Because my nutjob husband-to-be had pursuaded me was a fabulous idea.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpLQOz0VixaxRqN-K_y3QfwUiXeVTZqcrN0XeZDJVjFy6a5pFhFyV2vmfWNnYty-piQ7hrYldZ7CyEM5pmi8HheAWokLDmAYKhJ4SHHQ5mO6pHzoAxCmpj0CrxUXfjCJMTLcxMJYE8O2b7/s1600-h/sept04.2.jpg"></a><br />Because there is nothing that says "romance" like cleaning rats and chicken dookie out of barns, or standing in the scorching sun in a third world country ten minutes from the Equator painting a building instead of doing something lame like staying home and having someone paint my nails. <br /><br />At the time I had murderous thoughts towards my beloved groom, but now I'm over it. Now I look back on it and laugh. Hahahahaha. See? I'm laughing.<br /><br />Anyway, in the year since our wedding the events of that crazy week have formed a blurry memory of laugher and family and friends, and being insanely busy from morning until night. It was utterly exhausting and totally exhilarating, and we loved every single moment of it.<br /><br />My BFF Carol was never more than ten feet from my side all week. She made sure the wedding train ran on time all week long and just about wore herself out in the process. (I later thanked her with <a href="http://susanmohr.blogspot.com/2008/09/successful-endeavor.html">All About Carol Day</a> during which I had her pampered senseless at the spa, and being the good friend that I am, I had the exact same treatment just to make sure the quality of service was up to snuff).<br /><br />There was a group shopping expedition where we accompanied my darling sister in law Carol to Nordstroms so she could stock up on cute shoes which she can never find in England. Watching someone else spend a butt load of dough on cute shoes was almost as much fun as us doing it ourselves.<br /><br />There was the day that the two Carols, my girls, my son in law, and my grandsons helped clean up the Butt Ugly Boat. We had bought it just days before we left on the mission trip and it needed a serious defunk-ifying before we could spend our wedding night on it.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm6qIixKO71ySzLdDp-9I0-LqM6LtsQMpOJ2IaGSMc3i6AAYdy6EAJPaTOib2G2HTaF7EVE8vDn4T95KNfMMhnRHDt8L_cZ9R5WjcHQqTUOQK39CFiLxjvjw-AIUBsICudK1vQIi70bzrS/s1600-h/sept04.4.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 243px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 187px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377560904899511842" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm6qIixKO71ySzLdDp-9I0-LqM6LtsQMpOJ2IaGSMc3i6AAYdy6EAJPaTOib2G2HTaF7EVE8vDn4T95KNfMMhnRHDt8L_cZ9R5WjcHQqTUOQK39CFiLxjvjw-AIUBsICudK1vQIi70bzrS/s320/sept04.4.jpg" /></a>Then there was my bachelorette party and wine tasting on the Butt Ugly Boat which was a total blast as best as I can remember. Mommy had <em>way</em> too much medicine that night.<br /><br />And there are so many other unforgetable memories packed into that week:<br /><br />Like the memory of picking up the shipment of flowers from Hawaii that made the whole boat smell of orchids, and converting our friend Mike's houseboat into the world's largest floating florist chiller so the reception centerpieces wouldn't croak in the ungodly heat.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCuckQ4wJEyACxzJ-0A1yUE_6E8cEVM30-XT8M3i20llMLcABAHZHFxu5wMCFv08IJKXYOgVI3dUlphSqa4yl14l_QFWq0roLaCCQ1-wpGFbIguRQxj67jGCisnO1EwW7eLgQL5hF1NgNb/s1600-h/sept04.3.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 180px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 245px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377588073044649442" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCuckQ4wJEyACxzJ-0A1yUE_6E8cEVM30-XT8M3i20llMLcABAHZHFxu5wMCFv08IJKXYOgVI3dUlphSqa4yl14l_QFWq0roLaCCQ1-wpGFbIguRQxj67jGCisnO1EwW7eLgQL5hF1NgNb/s320/sept04.3.jpg" /></a>And the memories of our dock friends scurrying about taking care of endless last minute errands and making Morley and me feel like a million bucks.<br /><br />And the party at Big Creek Tavern the night before the wedding where we partied like rock stars with our out-of-town family and friends. Our friend Tommy performed for us and we stayed up <em>way</em> past our bedtime that night. Also, we had way too much medicine.<br /><br />And memories of Dennis being the greatest Best Man who ever lived. And being with family and friends on such a joyous and much anticipated occasion. And so on. And so on. And so on.<br /><br />But mostly we remember this moment:<br /><br /><br /><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1NGb-HHix9G94Sf8U_VdI366W0wM4vtBv0NDAG64oL9sHc1028CZUHkDAewYE18QF6G6tGJNkT62HGDi_Vxdi7wO4D9qhqL11jF-NJQ4HvTIbPsSkLoSk0kJqUFXxjfWUTc7GHxiFf-um/s1600-h/sept04.5.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 285px; HEIGHT: 306px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377560911990989842" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1NGb-HHix9G94Sf8U_VdI366W0wM4vtBv0NDAG64oL9sHc1028CZUHkDAewYE18QF6G6tGJNkT62HGDi_Vxdi7wO4D9qhqL11jF-NJQ4HvTIbPsSkLoSk0kJqUFXxjfWUTc7GHxiFf-um/s320/sept04.5.jpg" /></a></p>Susan Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00341374809477774600noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183654407389893409.post-29235088193680755142009-08-31T16:28:00.005-04:002009-08-31T16:54:38.711-04:00universalThis ad isn't in English but you'll understand it anyway. <br /><br /><OBJECT id=BLOG_video-d24cb69d174518a5 class=BLOG_video_class width=320 height=266 contentId="d24cb69d174518a5"></OBJECT><br /><br />PS. Once again, my penpal <a href="http://bigtownofsavage.blogspot.com/">Dewey</a> comes through with the best stuff.Susan Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00341374809477774600noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183654407389893409.post-17697760918889630142009-08-26T11:05:00.005-04:002009-08-26T11:20:11.802-04:00why crackheads shouldn't sing at funeralsLet's just say after this performance--especially that big finale--the deceased was probably grateful to be dead.
<br />
<br /><embed src="http://www.ebaumsworld.com/player.swf" allowScriptAccess="always" flashvars="pageurl=http://www.ebaumsworld.com/video/watch/715819/&file=http://media.ebaumsworld.com/mediaFiles/video/426037/715819.flv&mediaid=715819&title=Crack Head Sings Amazing Grace At A Funeral&tags=amazing,grace,crack,head,funny,awesome,hilarious&description=This is a classic FAIL!&displayheight=325&backcolor=0x0d0d0d&lightoclor=0x336699&frontcolor=0xcccccc&image=http://media.ebaumsworld.com/thumbs/video/426037/715819.jpg&username=nmack" wmode="transparent" loop="false" menu="false" quality="high" bgcolor="#ffffff" width="425" height="345" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" />Susan Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00341374809477774600noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183654407389893409.post-22368399497234236142009-08-24T07:46:00.000-04:002009-08-24T07:47:54.460-04:00birthday boy<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmjkC_VDaG150J4mjbqOZvEAYL0eKm6ZfuJPsa297wL-nBsaP7VB1-qRV5f2ipMZuYTCx8BvXLCl6-gAWHu4VAqoIZnBmhvmNuzS6K3_KrTq-9RM-aB7NIrIoih2ysU-JVp3TtUJJUP487/s1600-h/mvs_bday.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 352px; height: 381px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmjkC_VDaG150J4mjbqOZvEAYL0eKm6ZfuJPsa297wL-nBsaP7VB1-qRV5f2ipMZuYTCx8BvXLCl6-gAWHu4VAqoIZnBmhvmNuzS6K3_KrTq-9RM-aB7NIrIoih2ysU-JVp3TtUJJUP487/s400/mvs_bday.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373495619587964370" /></a>Susan Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00341374809477774600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183654407389893409.post-86597529502253034022009-08-21T12:40:00.005-04:002009-08-21T13:01:14.646-04:00Elvis and MJ are ALIVE!!<p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 307px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372459513633491298" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP7kx51YynK9QZYnX_LXlf3IrVEG5BBwuv_z_3yy-s86I_60C1GsRdx5Cgy-7QScZMbbvzTicbgqjrAqIHFmS22T8YepuyyvNpmKXFRbNUW5ZKvdNLbqfx3LD8Xp_oITP-1PHKjODZhLA_/s400/elvis_mj.jpg" /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 385px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 329px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372459521119365506" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCac8sBDdMgfHecpGTVuXZt2IQlth3oOkpcOOEotMlCVd7Kt9oUpjerURNJJ-WKkQYCzmLYigN6B19fTzsnYZHFCSTLxUE9o8DVaifMAn78yhy-ZQxxxDqDURe8RKts-At6alj6Mk5SVJw/s400/elvis_mj_closeup.jpg" /><br></p><p>PS Once again my penpal <a href="http://bigtownofsavage.blogspot.com/">DEWEY</a> comes thru with the very best stuff. <br /><br />Thank you, thank you very much.Susan Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00341374809477774600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183654407389893409.post-8714692424282475642009-08-21T09:04:00.008-04:002009-08-24T06:23:26.958-04:00nicaraguan birthdayMorley's birthday is Monday, which reminds me of this time last year when he talked me into <em>not</em> rescheduling our mission trip to Nicaragua the week before our wedding. Ahem.<br /><br />Anyway, here's a little home movie at his 60th birthday party in Chinandega, Nicaragua:<br /><br /><object width="385" height="360"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Aepk_lmI_nA&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x006699&color2=0x54abd6&border=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Aepk_lmI_nA&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x006699&color2=0x54abd6&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="385" height="360"></embed></object><br /><br />Happy birthday, Morley. Love you long time, and I promise not to <s>torture you this year</s> give you a pinata for your birthday. This year.Susan Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00341374809477774600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183654407389893409.post-50058678913702911802009-08-14T10:46:00.002-04:002009-08-14T10:47:39.508-04:00Ronald Reagan on socialized medicine<object width="320" height="265"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/fRdLpem-AAs&hl=en&fs=1&color1=0x234900&color2=0x4e9e00"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/fRdLpem-AAs&hl=en&fs=1&color1=0x234900&color2=0x4e9e00" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="320" height="265"></embed></object><br /><br />We need another one just exactly like him.Susan Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00341374809477774600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183654407389893409.post-7186272297392052152009-08-10T07:00:00.017-04:002009-08-10T21:39:55.659-04:00ninja deerFor weeks we've been looking forward to this past Friday when Bratley and Tammy would arrive to spend the weekend with us on the boat. I phoned him Thursday evening as he was driving home from a factory tour in Kentucky with one of his dentist clients to make sure he remembered the schedule, so when the phone rang early Friday morning I figured he was calling to tell me they were on their way.<br /><br />But the news was the schedule had changed and he was going to be several hours late because he had gone deer hunting the night before. He had some things to do before they left.<br /><br />As I administered an imaginary thrashing upon my brother--the preferred method I had employed during in childhood to communicate to him my dissatisfaction with his behaviour--he cheerfully asked if I wanted to buy some cute little deer antlers. I responded with something along the lines of him being an compete idiot, followed by a demand to know why for the love of God he'd decided to take up deer hunting on the very night he should have been home packing.<br /><br />His response was to helpfully inquire if I wanted him to bring deer meat for weekend grilling and an offer to throw into the deal two deer eyeballs about as big as saucers. I responded with something along the lines of him being in desperate, desperate need of a thorough psychiatric evaluation.<br /><br />Finally, after <s>wasting more of my time and patience</s> he explained he'd hit a deer with his car the night before and needed to file the insurance report and drop the car off at the repair shop before he left town. And not that I don't take everything Brad says as gospel truth, <span style="font-size:78%;"><ahem></span>he offered to email me photos to prove it:<br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368288471200619330" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXHYdaj5QytUARG4FT-NriYvHeWsz-Kb7GKXT-dnYd-cGEBOsIijZcYWAQjlxDFNRbhWkyu15MVgp08q7VW5_SEffa6CQkZKvfEBz_tS5rRyexWXSoi4Z5CnaaGZ3O4MyBy2Hi2EpWeiMD/s400/100_4611.jpg" /><br />He assured me it was not an ordinary deer, but a <em>Ninja deer</em> that one moment was nowhere near the road and a nanosecond later transported itself right in the middle of the road where it richoted off his fender and bounced down the entire passenger side of his car.<br /><p>That deer was fast, he said, but not fast enough.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368288478176524674" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN-VTyTCf5ekdB_ilMKypwrDJ3RXAqYU6eUvvzIuMM5Bn8eba-iY9dEQslqQYJcGAfKxOwgSFD6E81oPgWYhCF5tt0cC5mrDTmD_clOMR0Is61PYhhGy7XcIMd9kQf4LDo2YmzV84E4hvs/s400/100_4613.jpg" /></p>I immediately <s>made a snarky remarked about him brutally murdering Bambi in cold blood</s> expressed my deep condolences over the damage to his car.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368288886271528258" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihnHcy9P0cA_YwdNfr6LQoLIKY-VDtk9tdXgDvcQdAbJwaKkBU4PAOSy7pu7Mb7Vw9CBtoFKlKfoMgOjqjnr6Ovn-112dIHJiLSe-imD7MpcuZYnloPeZI4A6ejOa-5vXR2UTPFak8nZ57/s400/100_4616.jpg" /><br />And it was right then that I noticed some writing in that last photo. So I zoomed in to see it better:<br /><br /><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 236px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368288488163587490" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEkDGpT9Urs3VypwHUBF0afmfCPzC3gTNMvKGyAmwKeCP_XrzC3heSVqZOP1DQUBLEqhCuu3xhO_lWodGEkr2FzUco2rHcX6EWsh029bZEp4kawY1PMYoQP4GcLpTeXm1F_74YVFmhcF2x/s400/100_4616close.jpg" /></p><p>My brother needs meds. Seriously, seriously <em>strong </em>meds.<br /></p>Susan Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00341374809477774600noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183654407389893409.post-71370839184396828042009-07-28T06:26:00.010-04:002009-07-28T07:54:24.231-04:00Me and Bratley<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQi2c7JNxoA15gyOVUmQyWZvW8q4bN1wg2pH0PCN-ikmexeHNhO_l6r2sBZfaG0Jk31qOGrWGr1afbsiapMqHzGg5kJiRmwh2EplEknhk39aBLdhyphenhyphen52nnodBEoczqwweeLi3oXF4KbfLB8/s1600-h/me+and+brat_web.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 317px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363455528818214962" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQi2c7JNxoA15gyOVUmQyWZvW8q4bN1wg2pH0PCN-ikmexeHNhO_l6r2sBZfaG0Jk31qOGrWGr1afbsiapMqHzGg5kJiRmwh2EplEknhk39aBLdhyphenhyphen52nnodBEoczqwweeLi3oXF4KbfLB8/s400/me+and+brat_web.jpg" /></a>We grew up together, me and Bratley, the two youngest kids in a family of six. The age gap between the two of us and our four older siblings was such that the older kids weren't interested in playing cars or cowboys and Indians with us--they were more into activities such as dating and driving---so Brad and I pretty much had each other for company for most of our childhoods.<br /><br />Brad had a speech impediment when he was little. Although I understood him perfectly almost no one else could, so I was not only his playmate but also his interpreter:<br /><br />Stranger: "Why, what a cute little boy you are! What's your name, little one?"<br /><br />Bradley: "Bbbwwwaaawwwey"<br /><br />Stranger: "Huh?"<br /><br /><em>Bradley gives me an elbow to the ribs</em><br /><em></em><br />Me: "His name is Bradley"<br /><br />Stranger: "And how old are you Bradley?"<br /><br /><em>Bradley gives me an elbow to the ribs</em><br /><br />Me: "He's three"<br /><br />Stranger: "Well Bradley, you sure are cute with your blue eyes and those big dimples"<br /><br /><em>Bradley gives me an elbow to the ribs</em><br /><br />Me: "He says thank you"<br /><br />Stranger: "Would you like some candy, Bradley?"<br /><br />Me: "He says no thank you and please give his candy to me"<br /><br /><em>Bradley gives me an elbow to the ribs followed by a karate chop to the throat</em><br /><br />Brad eventually got his speech fixed thanks to a nice speech therapist at the university, but it took me <s>another fifty years</s> a little while to get used to not doing all his talking for him.<br /><br /><p>Bradley says thank you for all the birthday wishes*.</p><p>And he says he forgives me completely for forgetting his 50th birthday. </p><p>Also, he says I'm the coolest sister <em>ever</em> and way smarter and funnier than he is. Also he says I can have his new car, his uber cool Bluetooth headset, his GPS that does more tricks than mine, and a $30,000 check. </p>* Bradley: <a href="http://susanmohr.blogspot.com/2009/07/as-you-may-have-guessed-by-my-absence.html"><strong>GO HERE</strong></a> to see what the heck I'm talking about. And you really should get in the habit of checking my blog more often, you know.Susan Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00341374809477774600noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183654407389893409.post-51426713509772566842009-07-21T13:36:00.031-04:002009-07-23T14:13:44.688-04:00A sad tale about brothers and birthdaysAlso, I need a favor, badAs you may have guessed by the lack of riveting new material posted here, I've been working long and hard lately. And because I've been working so long and hard I've let a few things slip.<br /><br />Things such as remembering my youngest brother <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Bratley's</span>, er I mean <em>Bradley's</em>, fiftieth birthday for example. I can't believe I let such a big event slide by me, but I did and I let it slide BAD. It was last week.<br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxiUpTAvEbAk-huALJE5CD27v8ONSulywku9BTvo4R2f0Pi4m6_UzCdn9-J3G5vcHM0w5YYEHRmDtPIyBfiv5bFyv8YOjUJqq8bvSQJudkrVjiy_XF1zqeLW6hZSgjZfQs03EuJ1IE1XjH/s1600-h/brat_jacket.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 225px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 328px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360967463058319938" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxiUpTAvEbAk-huALJE5CD27v8ONSulywku9BTvo4R2f0Pi4m6_UzCdn9-J3G5vcHM0w5YYEHRmDtPIyBfiv5bFyv8YOjUJqq8bvSQJudkrVjiy_XF1zqeLW6hZSgjZfQs03EuJ1IE1XjH/s400/brat_jacket.jpg" /></a>But as you can see, he has maintained his boyish good looks (look at that, will ya? his leather jacket from high school still fits!) so you can understand why it just didn't dawn on me that the dude is getting old*.<br /><br />*he's not as old as me, but still.<br /><br />Anyway, so here's where I really need your help. I'm <s>sucking up</s> throwing a little belated birthday party here to make up for <s>my forgetting I even had a brother</s> the rather subdued 50<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">th</span> birthday festivities of last week and I would really appreciate it if you would leave Bradley a happy birthday comment. </p><p>Don't worry if you don't actually <em>know</em> him--he'll never figure it out and besides, he can't afford to be all that picky about who his friends are. (Oh wait, that didn't sound right. I wasn't referring to <i>you</i>, my dear and faithful readers, all four of you). </p><p>What I was trying to say is that it doesn't matter <strong>who</strong> wishes him happy birthday just so long as <strong>somebody</strong> does <em>since his own <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">durn</span> sister forgot all about it</em>. The goal here is to have 50 people wishing him a happy 50th Birthday.<br /></p><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 327px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 324px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360955200523619522" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJZvGtwJw7SUBR7uxbqDn56XANnwd-H1wxkVsbb1SesuTSc8Ryhy8GLaVfWKpona44u9rDD_rCrCMsAtJbFNpxwMTpHAr-D2kJJIhsDeOdm-HprmoSGw2c1V3UwTBfRtfHJI2EcQI4M19B/s400/brad_scooter.jpg" /><br />My brother <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">Bratley</span> is special <span style="font-size:78%;">*cough* *cough*</span> to me and I love him dearly. And I'm really truly <em>deeply</em> sorry that I forgot all about his 50<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">th</span> birthday. Also, I'm really banking on this shameless act of sucking up to get me out of his dog house. So lay it on thick, okay?</p><p>Love,<br />Sis<br /><br />PS. If you think you might actually know <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">Bratley</span> but aren't sure, here is a photo of him back when he had hair: </p><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 259px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360954852765171970" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX8BTSuxk4XRYPvxhgUcHfqvz9ukc85iNj2sNeatpgFTWnOmiksD6Xru70ysd2escukxBRqRDWWTUy1brOvQopKeM4ugoaqJL4LGWQxSncv-hBkzjb2sjz7GjKlRTn5DvN4Cw4hPnbz_gQ/s320/brad_entry.jpg" /><br /></p>PPS: And while we're at it, I'm also really sorry about last year when we left him stranded all night on a disabled houseboat with no food or water or luggage in 100 degree weather. But I can only make up for one Bad at a time.<br /><br /><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error">PPPS</span>: When you leave your Happy Birthday comment, can you please mention where you are from so he won't accuse me of leaving 50 anonymous wishes myself? (and if you happen to be in Tucker, Georgia just make up some another city--he'll never know the difference.) (He's so suspicious, that guy. I can't imagine why.)Susan Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00341374809477774600noreply@blogger.com43tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183654407389893409.post-91902177784144691702009-07-15T13:32:00.004-04:002009-07-15T13:41:58.449-04:00Coming Soon to this Space: Something I Actually Write MyselfIn lieu of me posting anything that remotely resembles original material or otherwise filling this space with something--anything!--that requires more than a nanosecond of my time to slap up on the internet, here's an uber cute commercial to entertain you. <br /> <br />(I'm not slacking, I swear, just working.)<br /><br /><OBJECT id=BLOG_video-37da1ebc160ccfca class=BLOG_video_class width=320 height=266 contentId="37da1ebc160ccfca"></OBJECT>Susan Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00341374809477774600noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183654407389893409.post-57876784940339578882009-07-07T17:45:00.011-04:002009-07-09T05:26:46.809-04:00ObamaCare explained in LegosMy penpal <a href="http://bigtownofsavage.blogspot.com/">Dewey</a> (who always sends me the best, most thought provoking stuff) sent me this video. You really need to watch it. <br /><br />Seriously, watch this short video and then think long and hard about what those out of control politicians in DC are trying to <s>shove down our throats</s> sign us up for. <br /><br /><object width="340" height="285"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/AqD-nMpsYAY&hl=en&fs=1&color1=0x234900&color2=0x4e9e00&border=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/AqD-nMpsYAY&hl=en&fs=1&color1=0x234900&color2=0x4e9e00&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="340" height="285"></embed></object>Susan Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00341374809477774600noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183654407389893409.post-45974716139535633232009-07-04T04:18:00.000-04:002009-06-30T07:22:02.053-04:00Independence Day<img style="visibility:hidden;width:0px;height:0px;" border=0 width=0 height=0 src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/IMP/CXNID=2000002.0NXC/bHQ9MTI*NjM2MDY2MzM5MCZwdD*xMjQ2MzYwNjk5NzE4JnA9NzQ4ODEmZD*mbj1ibG9nZ2VyJmc9MSZ*PSZvPTM2ZDQ2YTQwYWM2YzQxNjA4MTVhZjY3MDBmM2Y1MGM5Jm9mPTA=.gif" /><div style="background-color:#e9e9e9; width: 425px;"><object id="A874994" quality="high" data="http://aka.zero.jibjab.com/client/zero/ClientZero_EmbedViewer.swf?external_make_id=TFfUA84fvZVgHKAV&service=sendables.jibjab.com&partnerID=JibJab" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="340" width="425"><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><param name="movie" value="http://aka.zero.jibjab.com/client/zero/ClientZero_EmbedViewer.swf?external_make_id=TFfUA84fvZVgHKAV&service=sendables.jibjab.com&partnerID=JibJab"></param><param name="scaleMode" value="showAll"></param><param name="quality" value="high"></param><param name="allowNetworking" value="all"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /><param name="FlashVars" value="external_make_id=TFfUA84fvZVgHKAV&service=sendables.jibjab.com&partnerID=JibJab"></param><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"></param></object><div style="text-align:center; width:435px; margin-top:6px;">Try JibJab Sendables® <a href="sendables.jibjab.com/ecards">eCards</a> today!</div></div>Susan Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00341374809477774600noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183654407389893409.post-31312041308659132072009-06-24T05:51:00.034-04:002009-06-24T07:37:51.372-04:00Ho, Ho, HoNo matter what your calendar says, all the calendars in this family say this is Christmas week--time to spend a few days with the whole family eating too much delicious food, talking, laughing, hanging out with each other, and playing the diabolical games that I've laid awake at night plotting for them (more about that later). *evil laugh* <br /><br />An adventure somewhere fun is what we now give the girls and their families instead of the video games, pajamas, sweaters, and other terrible (and utterly forgettable) gifts we used to come up with back in the days when we were trying to be "normal" with our Christmas gifting. <br /><br />Once I figured out we were clueless in guessing what teenage boys <em>really</em> want or in keeping track of everyone's favorite color and/or current clothing size, we decided to bail on the concept of being normal. Instead we now give them a one-size-fits-all present: good memories of being together. <br /><br />It has proven to be one of my best ideas ever....well, except for last year when we rented a houseboat that lost it's power in the middle of a stifling hot night and left the kids with no running water, working toilets, lights, air conditioning or human comforts of any kind. That year we had more of a Survivor/Gilligan's Island type adventure than the kind of adventure we had in mind. But that's beside the point. We made memories. It's all good. <br /><br />Anyway, here's the video we sent them last Christmas announcing where this year's adventure would be:<br /><br /><object width="320" height="265"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/pnqZtZUbsIw&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/pnqZtZUbsIw&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="320" height="265"></embed></object><br /><br />You'll note that the video said we were going in July, but getting these kids together is like herding cats. We had to switch the dates around so everyone could make it--everyone, this is, except Kurt and Julia who learned at the last minute that they had to stay behind due to work obligations. Wahhhh! *sniff* *sniff* <br /><br />So we're in the woods for the next few days. I'll tell you all about it after we get home Sunday.Susan Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00341374809477774600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183654407389893409.post-11676791376732469492009-06-18T09:22:00.004-04:002009-06-18T10:12:42.181-04:00Love<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQbTyOyNmRFIrICsxS3XRGr0q_BrosRklai06-KnYgVlnMprJFbmRb089-5xEMYQ436ntqC7inxHkWRd7nKK3ias9n2WhExadpSQu0YplAyEMU3fS5RB_cOv-KDWOVKmXPlHqa_cj-zI8m/s1600-h/shelby_ball.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 346px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348657657110007058" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQbTyOyNmRFIrICsxS3XRGr0q_BrosRklai06-KnYgVlnMprJFbmRb089-5xEMYQ436ntqC7inxHkWRd7nKK3ias9n2WhExadpSQu0YplAyEMU3fS5RB_cOv-KDWOVKmXPlHqa_cj-zI8m/s400/shelby_ball.jpg" /></a><br />Who loves you more--your husband or your dog? Here's a simple way to find out:<br /><br />Lock your husband and your dog in the truck of your car, then leave them there for an hour. When you open the trunk, which one is really happy to see you?Susan Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00341374809477774600noreply@blogger.com1