tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45674644283765783362024-03-13T16:06:37.533-07:00The Franklin Wayne and Joyce Nelson FamilyEmily Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13733429663041022754noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4567464428376578336.post-44191530559928673072014-07-10T12:33:00.000-07:002014-07-10T12:35:08.164-07:00Wonderful Items For Auction at FWN Reunion 2014<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Will & Rhoda Furniss, Wayne & Joyce Nelson, Joe & Alice Nelson</div>
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Nelson Cap Gun Shooter Collage - 1955</div>
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Nelson Fisherman Collage</div>
Holm Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11160451327215004916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4567464428376578336.post-76674396828320953882013-07-14T21:27:00.004-07:002013-07-14T21:27:46.817-07:00Brenda Anderson Memorial Bench at the Farm<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Setting the bench: Shae Anderson pushes down on bench as Jeanne Jeppesen, Rex Nelson, Evan Anderson, Becky Christensen and Bruce Nelson watch.</div>
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Evan and Shae.</div>
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Plaque for grandchildren who have died.</div>
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Marie Anderson Walker's poem for Brenda inscribed on plaque.</div>
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The Bench!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGWWKlPE1Fl2ZtQ0mW986Lk_M_Mf4n8Y8oWLvliSAuhIxm2lQXgg7Clv-VuZsL08Ho71lhb94TFArCSjxbuPOADNniFdpgVYdvqhV7MduDiknvwK98LLoMd2q3k0KQkAMUKuDij1Zh_S2p/s1600/IMG_3467.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGWWKlPE1Fl2ZtQ0mW986Lk_M_Mf4n8Y8oWLvliSAuhIxm2lQXgg7Clv-VuZsL08Ho71lhb94TFArCSjxbuPOADNniFdpgVYdvqhV7MduDiknvwK98LLoMd2q3k0KQkAMUKuDij1Zh_S2p/s640/IMG_3467.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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Wayne Nelson and Evan Anderson survey a job well done. </div>
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Shae speaks about Brenda and her love for children. </div>
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Sarah Morrell picked the flowers. </div>
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Evan sings the words of Marie's poem (which was longer than the verse </div>
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on the plaque) to a tune he composed with Joe Clark.</div>
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After Brenda died in 2000, we wanted to create a fitting memorial for her. We decided on a bench, and over the years, members of the family contributed to a bench fund that grew to $200. Several years ago, Marie Anderson Walker wrote a poem in her honor for the bench. A year ago, plaques were made to spur the project on, and Jeanne and Alan took them home to Utah and found a man who would make a nice bench for us. He got it done and they brought it to reunion this year.</div>
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By a marvelous chance, Shae was able to come to the reunion this year, along with Evan. He selected a spot near the swing where mothers can watch their children play. They helped set the bench in cement, and Evan led a group of young men to the hill to pick up flat rocks to place over the grass at the site. </div>
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We had a wonderful ceremony-- Shae spoke, Evan sang and Shanan said a prayer. </div>
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Holm Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11160451327215004916noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4567464428376578336.post-14201498592864295122012-05-20T20:21:00.002-07:002012-05-20T20:49:23.917-07:00Revitalizing our heirlooms and our hearts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlL2mtB_PRnwhOf2-flv9oRkwpCyiANF8wHfgxHHDnJSg1whGTkwuQL1JLQgJwsBwooxZ_oCzOdS-3wQRzNPjadQd07kCUkQ2C0Pieh22FmzM85LbNqfh5zJPikeQA3XWRRBPPusue58oy/s1600/IMG_0963.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlL2mtB_PRnwhOf2-flv9oRkwpCyiANF8wHfgxHHDnJSg1whGTkwuQL1JLQgJwsBwooxZ_oCzOdS-3wQRzNPjadQd07kCUkQ2C0Pieh22FmzM85LbNqfh5zJPikeQA3XWRRBPPusue58oy/s640/IMG_0963.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Daddy and Mama's five-drawer dresser-- 2012.</i></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiueixtqx9agl2XDcxZE59-REE0UOOGxa1Y5DzjMBwfY7Fipk1Vg0TPyGMTHk8hKroq62OAxmik-Ch3k_kCQZH7_7AJkfeOZLaC-9H8e7GM3TDvUCvjdLdZT_dMbacWru0mm8yJyEDZhGRa/s1600/IMG_0010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiueixtqx9agl2XDcxZE59-REE0UOOGxa1Y5DzjMBwfY7Fipk1Vg0TPyGMTHk8hKroq62OAxmik-Ch3k_kCQZH7_7AJkfeOZLaC-9H8e7GM3TDvUCvjdLdZT_dMbacWru0mm8yJyEDZhGRa/s640/IMG_0010.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Mama's vanity, 2012. Its metal stool padded with satin wore out over the years.</i></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">It’s easy to distress furniture.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Just put five or six good-sized
rocks into an old sock and flail away at your piece like a Mafia hitman.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Wipe the sweat off your brow, and
voila<span style="font-family: Symbol;">' </span>—you’ve got a beat-up antique.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Mama would never forgive me
if I did that to anything, let alone her precious bedroom set.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Besides, it’s no stranger to
distress.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Wayne and Joyce could seldom afford new
or matching furniture, with one exception. During the 1950s, after an exceptional wheat harvest, Daddy
and Mama bought a bona fide bedroom set: a tall, five-drawer dresser, a vanity
with a large square mirror and tiny satin-covered stool, a three-drawer
nightstand and a double bed with square headboard and footboard. In blond oak,
the lines were clean and sleek in the “Scandinavian Contemporary” style. With a
red satin bedspread, their bedroom was complete.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>A dresser drawer shows the original oak finish and brass hardware.</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">The double bed seemed vast to me
53 years ago, when at age four, I crowded in with my parents. Though Mama gave me three inches on her
side of the bed, I thought they were extremely selfish not to scoot over a
little—after all, they had a lavish 54-inch wide mattress!<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I look at the bed now, and it has
shrunk. How did two full-sized
adults and sometimes a baby sister manage to spare even three inches for me?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Sometimes Andi, Shanan or I brought
a tummy-ache with us, so the bed and nightstand no doubt received an occasional
baptism in vomit.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">We moved twice a year—at the end
of May, to our dry farm home, and at the end of September, to a rental house in
town. Daddy and his moving crew—sometimes his sons, heaven help us if it was
Joyce and the girls—loaded furniture into the green farm truck for the 20-mile
trip. Sometimes the dresser and vanity stayed in town through the summer; other
times they were moved. The bed always got moved.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">One term depicts moving day:
“%&**%$#.” Daddy was always in a hurry to load and unload. He could back that truck up nearly to
the doors of the two houses covering some of the steps and saving a lot of work
for his crew.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">He took all the furniture in one
trip—and it was up to Mama to haul pots and pans, clothing and books in
numerous round trips by car.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Lacking muscle, the girls were often
assigned to carry the slats, wooden boards that supported the mattress.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Though Mama swaddled her precious
bedroom set with quilts and blankets, it got banged around—Dad’s famous saying about
what it did to furniture was: “Seven moves is as good as a fire.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">The large dresser and vanity
filled both of the small bedrooms my parents used. Like many folks during the
1950’s and 60’s, Daddy smoked, and some of his smoldering Camels stained pieces
of the set. Luckily, cigarette
burns were the worst consequence of the times he dozed off while smoking.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Daddy and Mama shared the big
dresser, and stored important papers in the middle drawer, which had three
compartments. One of them held memories of Holly, who lived only
four months—her birth certificate, the few photos they had of her, some tiny
baby clothes. On June 6, 1976, the Teton Dam burst ten miles east of us. As we rushed to get out of the flood’s
path, Mama wrestled that drawer out of the dresser and into the car trunk. She
was the only one who had the sense to grab irreplaceable items.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp-AnYOkMKWjTfucQPX2yBkvcozvUZSgqwYhRoizdNMf-6XVukvwxUkkZjVErgXYY_qpzlgki9C1p3hnEZpNi7dpNpPG39-h6CuOiEBNBTW7SYNF1j7PUexSj-aqOpQIkELh9mSmdMyR0E/s1600/IMG_0318.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp-AnYOkMKWjTfucQPX2yBkvcozvUZSgqwYhRoizdNMf-6XVukvwxUkkZjVErgXYY_qpzlgki9C1p3hnEZpNi7dpNpPG39-h6CuOiEBNBTW7SYNF1j7PUexSj-aqOpQIkELh9mSmdMyR0E/s640/IMG_0318.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>The three section drawer held my parents' important papers.</i></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">When Daddy died in 1989, Mama kept a pair of his jeans unwashed
in the dresser for quite a while. Sometimes she buried her face in the worn
denim, in his scent. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Mama died in 2009 and some of us
gathered on a Memorial Day weekend to sort and inventory her things—a big job,
since with her Great Depression mentality, she saved everything. Then we
gathered on a summer weekend to distribute her belongings.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Bruce and Danny pitched an army tent
in the yard to cover our parents’ possessions. Judy, the executor
of the estate, had come up with a great system: we placed the names of her eight
living children, and of Marie representing Brenda into a hat. For each item on the inventory, a name was drawn, and that person
got the item. After nine draws,
the names went back into the hat and we started over.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Previously, we had each indicated
which three items were most important to us, so negotiation, consideration of
others’ desires, and trading went on throughout the process. At sundown, all
had meaningful legacies and there was plenty left for the grandchildren before
one truckload went to Deseret Industries and another went to the dump.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I was happy to inherit the bedroom
set. Once more, Bruce and Dan wrapped the furniture in blankets and loaded
it into Spencer's Toyota truck. The
Scandinavian Contemporary bedroom set rode across Idaho, blasted by heat,
plastered by bugs and shaken by semis.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">All the way, I wished that the set
looked like it did the first time they brought it home in the farm truck.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">A professional quoted a hefty
price to sand, stain and re-varnish the pieces. Someone suggested distressing
it—but I didn’t have the heart to punish it any more than we already
had!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">For 18 months the bedroom set sat
in the crowded garage as I pondered how my amateur DIY efforts might destroy my
inheritance. When Spencer got married and begged for a dresser for their unfurnished
apartment, I gave him the one I’d been using, and with my clothes hanging out
of laundry baskets, I had to do something. I decided to paint.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">As I sanded and puttied the gouges
and burns, memories flooded in. On a drawer, a child had scratched “Mom,”
starting with an extra tall M.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">“Which of my delinquent siblings
vandalized this dresser?” I wondered.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">On the next drawer, “Dab” was
scratched in the same style. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZDNc8-UyegVyCQ2Ljmr6njSdzCoghS_tGiard82A7sqCG99Fc9veCWWSYvpnYJanQVfgGuJdqywfQW6AAN5H4Oo2VSmETu88ux_0HSmkDSPdBxLny4tiA0gfIWhufyzfcSHpTuHVBy6fs/s1600/IMG_0325.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZDNc8-UyegVyCQ2Ljmr6njSdzCoghS_tGiard82A7sqCG99Fc9veCWWSYvpnYJanQVfgGuJdqywfQW6AAN5H4Oo2VSmETu88ux_0HSmkDSPdBxLny4tiA0gfIWhufyzfcSHpTuHVBy6fs/s640/IMG_0325.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Dad's drawer labeled "Dab".</i></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">It all came back. Mrs. Van Houten, my second teacher,
despaired that I would ever figure out the difference between d and b. “You’ll be ‘Deddie’ all your life,” she
said. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">As I sanded, I remembered myself
as a child, scratching the dresser with my baby sister’s ducky-headed diaper
pin. Brenda caught me and punished me, but “Big deal,” I thought—I
had labeled those drawers! (As if Dad and Mom needed help remembering whose
drawer was whose!)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I haven’t changed much—Norm chides me for labeling pantry shelves, saying, “We can tell the difference
between green beans and peaches!”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Somebody—not me—wrote in crayon on
the dresser box behind a drawer. There was a lot of dirt in the bottom three
drawers and the box behind them, probably because the dresser was stored at the
farm for a time.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzi7A2IWRbPKhbZyrC6-yURSCqHj2lkgRQVA-2yhR5PGskhRVJxUYcGFXct2orzKw1TkvfdWh6gmCfLHoQP_Jjqt7rT-rrSIx0u8TSOCS4bIW4TpevA-R26m4vtFY1ttN7cgegtJp26c3X/s1600/IMG_0313.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzi7A2IWRbPKhbZyrC6-yURSCqHj2lkgRQVA-2yhR5PGskhRVJxUYcGFXct2orzKw1TkvfdWh6gmCfLHoQP_Jjqt7rT-rrSIx0u8TSOCS4bIW4TpevA-R26m4vtFY1ttN7cgegtJp26c3X/s640/IMG_0313.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>The vanity after being sanded.</i></span></span></div>
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3h5c3aCX1QaSx9xrqbZIdlEknA0V_RpHcuTXw33p4m-NpR6Odhd6EenhPTbX8cProW-yF46xqNeKU_XAcfIC3Oh5NOA8uyFWV6OcbPHFCM9QuMCEZCHHOTCPveX7S9V8qPsYqKwOWxTCM/s1600/IMG_0317.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3h5c3aCX1QaSx9xrqbZIdlEknA0V_RpHcuTXw33p4m-NpR6Odhd6EenhPTbX8cProW-yF46xqNeKU_XAcfIC3Oh5NOA8uyFWV6OcbPHFCM9QuMCEZCHHOTCPveX7S9V8qPsYqKwOWxTCM/s640/IMG_0317.jpg" width="476" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>The dresser after being puttied, living in our garage.</i></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Though gouged and burned, the furniture is solid, with tongue and groove workmanship, as sturdy as the
day it was built—1951 (the year Norm was born) in Ohio, says the stamp on the back of each piece. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">When I painted the nightstand, I hoped
to replicate its former blond oak color, but I choose a shade too dark and even
with some careful antiquing by Norm, it didn’t have the look I
wanted. It sits in Emily's home. They just moved from a tiny home to a big home across Idaho Falls, and it is an heirloom to
anchor her to our shared past.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I chose a creamy ivory paint for
the vanity and large dresser, and replaced the tarnished bronze hardware. (If anyone in the family wants the old hardware, I'd be glad to send it!)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht0pIZQz_fCPVGJRsbemXcdD22ygIW2ELs5Yx4bNG8ufV0oqyRcRLogxVPQbKSS4gdoT0QYsAEmuYz4gbPACoLfD85rY3gTmf4JEpZa-OAO4D6g9nLvzMCdcklavD0A2Kbip-3JQ3dyrgb/s1600/IMG_0020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht0pIZQz_fCPVGJRsbemXcdD22ygIW2ELs5Yx4bNG8ufV0oqyRcRLogxVPQbKSS4gdoT0QYsAEmuYz4gbPACoLfD85rY3gTmf4JEpZa-OAO4D6g9nLvzMCdcklavD0A2Kbip-3JQ3dyrgb/s640/IMG_0020.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Close-up of paint and hardware on vanity.</i></span></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">The dresser sits in our bedroom,
massive and beautiful. In the
three-section drawer, my socks and underwear have never had it so good! <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Miraculously, the vanity’s 42-inch
square mirror, sporting a campy decal of a rose, a compact, lipstick and nail
polish, has survived intact. Clear
plastic brackets clamp it to a supporting sheet of wood, which has its own
beautiful wood-grain patterns. The
vanity practically shouted, “I need faux crystal handles to match my brackets!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVpMventDQhkYJd5EtI5fjbSrribvY7uW2br9A0OtDR4TQ_ID4qGWhTEi7DnmYyMlqhOshzF9WdSj7KyRLExnm8C_Gv6ytlysBsSQUuyccQ4gfw89e4B86UybQpKMdVtZpT8ZIrl9D5qRu/s1600/IMG_0314.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVpMventDQhkYJd5EtI5fjbSrribvY7uW2br9A0OtDR4TQ_ID4qGWhTEi7DnmYyMlqhOshzF9WdSj7KyRLExnm8C_Gv6ytlysBsSQUuyccQ4gfw89e4B86UybQpKMdVtZpT8ZIrl9D5qRu/s640/IMG_0314.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The wooden frame behind the mirror with </span></span></i><i style="font-size: small; text-align: left;">beautiful wood grain landscape</i><span style="font-size: x-small; text-align: left;">.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">It sits my office, which doubles
as “the good guest bedroom” when it isn’t buried in papers. I shared a bedroom
growing up, I shared a bedroom in college, and I’ve shared a bedroom during 35
years of marriage. So the
four-year-old in me has decorated this room—my first all-to-myself room—in pink.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">My reflection in the vanity mirror
has changed through the years, first in Daddy's and Mama's bedroom, now in mine.
Because I see their image in the background, loving me and holding me accountable
to their principles, I can look myself in the eyes in that mirror. I’m glad my grandchildren will be able
to see themselves in that mirror.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHkK-Cpm05XFkCjKdYTPi_h3Adofx92gBdvYqvMEg4oIGwHjgIfnuIvS8zkCeHf6Yrplpz1DBHmh_IhEzF9H2mbMqdSfcIGXNMOAp0IYTWdGgyIOhJUhV0E-4LtOvSAUc4X8HIpGLTBi4T/s1600/IMG_0017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHkK-Cpm05XFkCjKdYTPi_h3Adofx92gBdvYqvMEg4oIGwHjgIfnuIvS8zkCeHf6Yrplpz1DBHmh_IhEzF9H2mbMqdSfcIGXNMOAp0IYTWdGgyIOhJUhV0E-4LtOvSAUc4X8HIpGLTBi4T/s640/IMG_0017.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Grandchildren can see themselves in my parents' vanity mirror. Notice the small </i></span></span></div>
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<i><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">decal of </span></span><span style="font-size: x-small; text-align: left;">rose and make-up in upper left corner.</span></i></div>Holm Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11160451327215004916noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4567464428376578336.post-2433534565192673092012-05-15T15:30:00.001-07:002012-05-15T15:30:36.980-07:00Photo Book<object width="425" height="425" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab" classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000"><param name="movie" value="http://images-community.shutterfly.com/flashapps/slideshow/slideshow-ui.swf"/><param name="flashvars" value="configXMLURL=http://images-community.shutterfly.com/flashapps/slideshow/config/config-share.xml&slideshowModuleURL=http://images-community.shutterfly.com/flashapps/slideshow/slideshow-module.swf&projectGUID=0AYuWzNs2ZsmYuLA&swfName=slideshowFlashContent&showReplay=true"/><param name="menu" value="false"/><param name="quality" value="best"/><param name="wmode" value="transparent"/><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"/><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"/><embed width="425" height="425" align="middle" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" name="wrapper" quality="best" menu="false" allowfullscreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always" flashvars="configXMLURL=http://images-community.shutterfly.com/flashapps/slideshow/config/config-share.xml&slideshowModuleURL=http://images-community.shutterfly.com/flashapps/slideshow/slideshow-module.swf&projectGUID=0AYuWzNs2ZsmYuLA&swfName=slideshowFlashContent&showReplay=true" src="http://images-community.shutterfly.com/flashapps/slideshow/slideshow-ui.swf"></embed></object><p style="width:425px;margin-top:0;text-align:center;"><a href="http://share.shutterfly.com/action/welcome?sid=0AYuWzNs2Zsmbi4&cid=SFLYOCWIDGET&eid=115">Click here to view this photo book larger</a><div style="margin-top: 10px; width: 425px; text-align: center;">You'll love Shutterfly's award-winning <a href="http://www.shutterfly.com/photo-books" style="color: #6666cc;">photo books</a>. Try it today.</div><img width="1" height="1" border="0" style="padding: 0; background: #ffffff; border: none; box-shadow: none;" src="https://os.shutterfly.com/b/ss/sflyshareprod/1/H.15/111?pageName=sharekey&c1=photobook&c2=blogger" /></p>Marco and Lara Roettohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15119289750829409573noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4567464428376578336.post-49071179838901084382012-04-30T16:49:00.001-07:002012-04-30T16:56:30.085-07:00Christensen update 2012Dear Family,I've been thinking about all of you and decided to write to update you on our activities instead of a lot of phone calls. <br />
Bruce and I got to go to Moscow, Idaho last week for his annual meeting of the NIATT advisory board (I think it stands for the National Istitute for the Advancement of Transportation Technology). Pat came to take care of the kids while we were gone. The kids had a great time with Nana and kept her busy running around. We stayed in Riggins in our favorite motel on the river, right where the Little Salmon joins the Salmon River. We ate at a new place this year and got to sit outside. It was beautiful weather. The next morning, we didn't go on our regular hike along the Rapid River, but just drove North to Lewiston. We stopped at Hell's Gate State Park alongside the Snake River. (There sure are a lot of rivers, aren't there!) We wandered around an interesting Lewis and Clark museum, and then drove up the hill to the Jack O'Connor museum. He was a famous big game hunter and outdoor writer years ago. He was from Arizona originally, but raised his family in Lewiston. He did a lot to bring notice to Lewiston and helped the economy by writing about the ammunition made there. The museum had many, many mounts of the animals he and his wife shot on their hunting trips around the West and in Canada, Iran, India, and Africa. His and his wife's guns were there. I had no idea how many different kinds of antelope live in Africa, from the tiny Dik Dik to the huge ones like Oryx and Sable. I kept wishing Erik and Danni were there. I think they really would have enjoyed it. I'll include a few pictures.<br />
When we got to Moscow, we went to the dinner for the NIATT board and heard two student presentations. One was about a new hybrid race car that the students built from the ground up. They made pretty much everything except the tires, including the hybrid motor. The other was about hands-on learning techniques in the classroom, teaching traffic studies. I even piped up and asked a question! Bruce went to his meetings the next day and I stayed inside and enjoyed the exercise room, the pool, and the TV while it rained outside. On Friday we attended the Engineering Expo in the Student Union building. The projects are really cool, and we enjoyed looking at all of them. It was over too soon, but we had a book on CD to make the drive home go by quickly. We didn't mind the long drive too much, and we wanted to get home, so we skipped a motel that night and drove all the way back to Twin Falls. It was a nice break for both of us.<br />
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Joel is in track and enjoying his track meets. He is in the Teacher's quorum now. Todd is the first counselor in the Deacon's quorum. Kurtis is playing Soccer and continuing violin lessons. He performed in our ward talent show. Will is enjoying preschool, and getting more and more ready for kindergarten in the fall. I am planning to go to Wood Badge scout training for a week in June. Mom gets to come stay with the kids then. Bruce is the assistant scoutmaster. We are staying really busy with scouts, sports, and school. I love you all and wish I could have some time to talk to you on the phone or see you individually.<br />
Love,<br />
BeckyBecky Christensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11100077827308583545noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4567464428376578336.post-88889740891663377452012-04-15T23:56:00.001-07:002012-04-15T23:57:16.136-07:00Adelia's Baby Blessing<span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">YOU ARE INVITED TO THE BABY BLESSING OF</span><br style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"><br style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"><span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">ADELIA RUTH NELSON</span><br style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"><span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"> </span><br style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"><span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">DAUGHTER OF BRYCE AND JULISE NELSON</span><br style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"><br style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"><span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">WHEN: Sunday, May 6, 2012</span><br style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"><span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">WHERE: Henry’s Point Ward</span><br style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"><span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">680 S. 1250 W.</span><br style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"><span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">Logan, UT</span><br style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"><span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">TIME: Meeting Starts at 9:00am</span><br style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"><br style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"><span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">A LUNCHEON WILL FOLLOW</span><br style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"><br style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"><span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">PLEASE RSVP TO JULISE:</span><br style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"><span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">JULISENELson11@GMAIL.COM</span><br style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"><span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">or</span><br style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"><span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">CALL OR TEXT: 435-232-8491</span><br style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"><br style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">Miss(ed) Eloquencehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09749646767793427316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4567464428376578336.post-89064776408838559052011-12-22T22:04:00.000-08:002011-12-22T22:04:14.966-08:00Remembering "Grammy" Joyce Furniss Nelson<div class="p1">Reviewing this video continues to evoke tender feelings of love and appreciation for our dear "Grammy" who passed away just two years ago on December 31, 2009.</div><div class="p1"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxVu2sTcU1XWQ6He0dcEOCRw5TluT398ndi5BdBdZY9_NK2VpEmxJJ669A62dAPG-flAY-epfskvvwplJGk5Q' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="p1"><br />
</div>Holm Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11160451327215004916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4567464428376578336.post-87967763908751581042011-12-17T20:07:00.000-08:002011-12-19T20:33:52.256-08:00Merry Christmas from Wayne and Joyce.... about 1935<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiXDI4Isp2gIil5YBZDgLTWzJIfbiMvDACwHUpiVeqvMWamhnpvFg1Od8BztyaLTASjZ8bevYhyphenhyphen8uLGKKjlpi-ix5Ej06ANkEJYciStxEHWOWIbHzvRho9zw7-kTeher3DkBgVi3mqr68e/s1600/Wayne+high+school+1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiXDI4Isp2gIil5YBZDgLTWzJIfbiMvDACwHUpiVeqvMWamhnpvFg1Od8BztyaLTASjZ8bevYhyphenhyphen8uLGKKjlpi-ix5Ej06ANkEJYciStxEHWOWIbHzvRho9zw7-kTeher3DkBgVi3mqr68e/s400/Wayne+high+school+1.jpeg" width="295" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWbcep9yLT0trusv-eDpU3h9mnyEQIwdk7i1Mm8KiZe9hBoZ3ncOdPSmo642kzOBOP2XLiIfhTU5Rbp-VQkXuiqRh6-hLcrHk_1XVLrzdF9d1fDzZTEsbCzafThD7UhoMKXTBnIucFT2my/s1600/Joyce+high+school.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWbcep9yLT0trusv-eDpU3h9mnyEQIwdk7i1Mm8KiZe9hBoZ3ncOdPSmo642kzOBOP2XLiIfhTU5Rbp-VQkXuiqRh6-hLcrHk_1XVLrzdF9d1fDzZTEsbCzafThD7UhoMKXTBnIucFT2my/s400/Joyce+high+school.jpeg" width="296" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">I recently came across these photos of Wayne and Joyce, perhaps taken for high school yearbooks. Neither photo has any writing, though Wayne's is creased as if it was in a wallet. (Norm cleaned it up.) I estimate their ages as about 18 (for Wayne that would have been 1934) and 16 or 17 (for Joyce, about 1936 or 1937.) Their happy, youthful, good-looking faces make me happy and ready for a Merry Christmas!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2W4HcPkcJORpX8YSkAbQjX0bPb4c3kQUKh01KziBbsERHt3jGp-GpYL3sig2hXnkKaMZCYMKQrDLezDuPshw2ppI-xbXd73DTDxMfKROKWkAxR7-BRrN6zJj05bvCzHLYItnsQHxT9Wi2/s1600/IMG_0209.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2W4HcPkcJORpX8YSkAbQjX0bPb4c3kQUKh01KziBbsERHt3jGp-GpYL3sig2hXnkKaMZCYMKQrDLezDuPshw2ppI-xbXd73DTDxMfKROKWkAxR7-BRrN6zJj05bvCzHLYItnsQHxT9Wi2/s400/IMG_0209.JPG" width="296" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1HL4oJX4Fa2to6b4-IzW6uFxe96dB4w52asygYbOBTDW0LdLaLzVgHSPFtxouiy4moZzhVksH0mugEcDhfknNrwR1Qubsz3MwJE3yvliyK3QfYmaXXwORxLL781E8bOm9Bno3i5YdRM_4/s1600/IMG_0210.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1HL4oJX4Fa2to6b4-IzW6uFxe96dB4w52asygYbOBTDW0LdLaLzVgHSPFtxouiy4moZzhVksH0mugEcDhfknNrwR1Qubsz3MwJE3yvliyK3QfYmaXXwORxLL781E8bOm9Bno3i5YdRM_4/s400/IMG_0210.JPG" width="297" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">These are the same photos rendered as sketches through the iPhone app "My Sketch."</div>Holm Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11160451327215004916noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4567464428376578336.post-67931741970670796602011-11-09T19:58:00.000-08:002011-11-10T07:36:17.148-08:00Grandpa's Doughnuts<div class="Section1"><div class="Body1" style="text-indent: .5in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTngm0Gg6Y-44iL9qGzu3tlq0Ky6Ne3bMKzgiWPL4zJe1-QbowWxyFGJdMNQ2XxugkB-o4JAw6KvtnEiSdFntz2BxXRhTIRqPu4TCxUwvCNLfNGGIPrOPUubdEjKA_82l4ilndCVgEB-FV/s1600/IMG_0053.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTngm0Gg6Y-44iL9qGzu3tlq0Ky6Ne3bMKzgiWPL4zJe1-QbowWxyFGJdMNQ2XxugkB-o4JAw6KvtnEiSdFntz2BxXRhTIRqPu4TCxUwvCNLfNGGIPrOPUubdEjKA_82l4ilndCVgEB-FV/s640/IMG_0053.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">In honor of Bruce & Judy's birthdays. . . </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">My thanks to Andrea for calling and asking for Dad's doughnut recipe awhile back. (I inherited the recipe Bruce fixed for Dad, masking tape and all.) She made some up and said hers were almost as good as Dad's. It brought back memories. . . </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">When I was a kid, on “Saturday Night at the Fights,” two boxers feinted at each other while a referee held them apart. After letting suspense build like steam in a pressure cooker, he yelled, “Gentlemen, shake hands and staaaart fighting!” They shook hands, then attacked each other.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="Body1" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Rex gave me similar workouts (without the handshake) so I never watched past this point. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="Body1" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The fighters provided an enduring family saying. After the last dish was set on and the blessing was said, Ellen or Jeanne was sure to shout: “Shake hands and staaaart eating!” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="Body1" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">As we approach that food frenzy called “the holidays,” here are phrases that make us salivate just hearing them:<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="Body1" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Soup’s on!” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="Body1" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Let’s eat!” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="Body1" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Name your poison!” We used this bartender’s phrase in sentences such as, “Name your poison—pancakes or biscuits!” It offers a nice, self-deprecatory tone for the modest cook. (With my cooking, though, ‘poison’ comes too close to the truth!)<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="Body1" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">We were crazy about the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Pogo Possum</i> comic strip. Walt Kelly had Ma Groun’ Squirrel (was that her name??) say: “The way to a man’s heart is through the soft underbelly!” We seven girls said it when we made cinnamon rolls or cookies for boyfriends. (I still say it today!) <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">We also quoted the Pillsbury doughboy, "Nothin' says lovin' like somethin' from the oven!" </span></div><div class="Body1" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">However, I rebelled when Mama said, “We’ve got to feed the men.” (Usually prefaced by, “Put that book down and peel these potatoes!”) I didn’t want to cook for my Dad and brothers, who were capable of both feeding themselves and cooking the food to do it. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="Body1" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">She let me vent, but made me cook, reminding me that Dad and the boys worked hard to provide the food on our table. Life has proven that as chauvinistic as her saying was, it’s true that every five to six hours, men, women and children eat. And at my house, it’s usually up to me to make sure they—and I— have something to eat.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="Body1" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Dad cooked. Grandma Nelson taught him so he and his brothers could live at the “batch house” on a remote part of their farm. He made delicious stews, roasts, ham and beans and our favorite, large quantities of cake doughnuts for the holidays.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="Body1" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">At about age nine, Bruce cut this recipe from a metal Raleigh’s nutmeg can and bent the edges, impressing them into a hand-carved wood plaque, which he gave to Dad for Father’s Day. It hung in our kitchen for 50 years. Andi says to add the extra spices shown here— Mama’s secret for doughnuts and pumpkin pie filling so good she drank it out of the blender! This is a tiny recipe-- you'd have to multiply it at least five times to get the volume of doughnuts Dad made!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="Body1" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="Body1" style="text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Wayne’s Doughnuts</span></b></div></div><div class="Section2"><div class="Body1" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Flour, sifted - 4 cups<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="Body1" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Baking powder - 4 1/2 tsp. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="Body1" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Cinnamon – 2 Tblsp.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="Body1" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Nutmeg – 2-4 tsp. to taste<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="Body1" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Mace - 1 1/2 tsp. to taste<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="Body1" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Salt - 1 tsp.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="Body1" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Shortening- 3 Tblsp.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="Body1" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Sugar - 1 cup<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="Body1" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Eggs, well beaten - 2<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="Body1" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Milk - 1 cup<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="Body1" style="mso-pagination: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="Body1" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Sift together 3 1/2 cups flour with baking powder, spices and salt. Work shortening with spoon until creamy; add sugar gradually while beating with spoon until light. Add eggs and beat well with spoon. Add sifted flour mixture alternately with milk, blending well after each addition. Add enough of remaining flour to make a soft dough easily handled. Roll or pat on floured board to 1/2 inch thickness and cut with floured doughnut cutter. Kids can do this—we cut a circle with a large tumbler and used an Alka Seltzer bottle to cut out the holes. Rather then re-roll the dough, which would make tough doughnuts, Dad fried the scraps and called them “critters” – they look amazingly like antlered beasts! Fry in any hot fat—but lard produces doughnuts like Dad’s! Drain, then shake well in a paper bag with ½ cup sugar and 2 Tblsp. cinnamon. (Another kid job!)</span><br />
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</span></div><div class="Body1" style="text-indent: .5in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglgSgq3ax5IJaec7Lk8mbzxwggUf6PLPBazpKWIKnQmdYRLdEeCE6ED7HQY9sTj7I0oXPRTLXRM5zjCFkab1SJfcMgY3tJVF08VMVkLjgTPnSczUeR5m1aHA3JKtnu4DwLv9ASQj3gs_8n/s1600/Pillsbury+Doughboy.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="174" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglgSgq3ax5IJaec7Lk8mbzxwggUf6PLPBazpKWIKnQmdYRLdEeCE6ED7HQY9sTj7I0oXPRTLXRM5zjCFkab1SJfcMgY3tJVF08VMVkLjgTPnSczUeR5m1aHA3JKtnu4DwLv9ASQj3gs_8n/s200/Pillsbury+Doughboy.png" width="200" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglgSgq3ax5IJaec7Lk8mbzxwggUf6PLPBazpKWIKnQmdYRLdEeCE6ED7HQY9sTj7I0oXPRTLXRM5zjCFkab1SJfcMgY3tJVF08VMVkLjgTPnSczUeR5m1aHA3JKtnu4DwLv9ASQj3gs_8n/s1600/Pillsbury+Doughboy.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><br />
</a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"></span></div>Holm Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11160451327215004916noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4567464428376578336.post-12885154164989668072011-10-25T12:13:00.000-07:002011-10-25T12:25:35.625-07:00A Birthday Gift for Grammy<span style="font-weight:bold;">For the last month, every time I walked by the calendar- October 25th stood out to me. It is sad not to have Grammy here to wish Happy Birthday. This year, I decided to try and do an act of service in honor of Grammy for her birthday. It was a simple thing- but it felt good to know that she knows. So- if you feel inclined you may want to do the same. We are blessed with that same love and kindness that Grammy and Grandpa so easily shared with others. I love you all! </span>Marco and Lara Roettohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15119289750829409573noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4567464428376578336.post-10771004033230151102011-10-03T13:10:00.000-07:002011-10-03T13:11:17.898-07:00Old Fashioned Chicken-N-Noodles by GrammyAs the weather cools, I start to think about soup. I'm sure I'm not the only grandkid who remembers pulling up to Grandma's house after a long drive and being greeted by a warm bowl of soup. Here's Grammy's recipe for Old Fashioned Chicken-N-Noodles, submitted by Shanan. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmaNyth-uz0ZeQQD9mpnf2vsjLB_q-JqBuHTDfV4IxuuWvaYlfQJquk9sMoJHjrzFNFrx-qJKkpz0sc1DIOexUWvoxeM0BIw3OMhQ3eF0sO-URGyRsci5RGKgAVzLwwj4ncyXZd6la1phF/s1600/Chicken+Noodle+Recipe_Page_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmaNyth-uz0ZeQQD9mpnf2vsjLB_q-JqBuHTDfV4IxuuWvaYlfQJquk9sMoJHjrzFNFrx-qJKkpz0sc1DIOexUWvoxeM0BIw3OMhQ3eF0sO-URGyRsci5RGKgAVzLwwj4ncyXZd6la1phF/s640/Chicken+Noodle+Recipe_Page_1.jpg" width="538" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoCGd09tqyYFRs7FbzUuZ59UaZObrTqfEDVrbsgrHjooBOKVHPhBZXJf2tueNfAvoFbC86qmBqToU6BYnf2NB8LTtueCAqmA3HLfLGE27Pwv1gx4rwuFjb-7Eu-hx1rYV1BvXgpKwbBMlU/s1600/Chicken+Noodle+Recipe_Page_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoCGd09tqyYFRs7FbzUuZ59UaZObrTqfEDVrbsgrHjooBOKVHPhBZXJf2tueNfAvoFbC86qmBqToU6BYnf2NB8LTtueCAqmA3HLfLGE27Pwv1gx4rwuFjb-7Eu-hx1rYV1BvXgpKwbBMlU/s640/Chicken+Noodle+Recipe_Page_2.jpg" width="538" /></a></div>
Emily Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13733429663041022754noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4567464428376578336.post-75554653646738687782011-09-16T17:03:00.001-07:002011-09-16T17:07:12.993-07:00The House That Love Built<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvWTn9UmBkmIei_K6NM5kdEmA3V2tpbMgi6KbjOGGf2DEdsYkQ5YESlxoqVgIuCe0IpdjXNowlzQ4QcotYGIckygKA5duvurnioVTehqtO1E554PlVIdjx6AzQdILs8gNWCrC3o_iSuVmD/s1600/IMG_0005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvWTn9UmBkmIei_K6NM5kdEmA3V2tpbMgi6KbjOGGf2DEdsYkQ5YESlxoqVgIuCe0IpdjXNowlzQ4QcotYGIckygKA5duvurnioVTehqtO1E554PlVIdjx6AzQdILs8gNWCrC3o_iSuVmD/s640/IMG_0005.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuVXqKfxMa7aXDqM1M2TsLLdc6v_DKE12QIy9Lie8WQIl8iZn5m0NxHbo-PPsiMdRqLqUuuBnDU8Ul6IpkBYgMP3cYjBXrRWG4lExqU48fGZUiV6tk2oUJtWcMdmJaxaqq0U00VYFg0ZHD/s1600/IMG_0050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuVXqKfxMa7aXDqM1M2TsLLdc6v_DKE12QIy9Lie8WQIl8iZn5m0NxHbo-PPsiMdRqLqUuuBnDU8Ul6IpkBYgMP3cYjBXrRWG4lExqU48fGZUiV6tk2oUJtWcMdmJaxaqq0U00VYFg0ZHD/s640/IMG_0050.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>On July 9, I stood where my father was born 95 years earlier—the master bedroom of the home my grandparents built between 1913 and 1916.<br />
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Grandpa Joe homesteaded in Clementsville, just west of Teton Valley in Eastern Idaho, in 1906. Grandma Alice, his bride, didn’t join him permanently in the remote area until 1908, when he completed a two-room cabin.<br />
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As their family grew, they needed room, and unlike many at that time, they didn’t dream small. It took years to build their two-story, four-bedroom frame house in a Victorian style, but without gingerbread: solid, welcoming, homey. <br />
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They paid for building materials as they went along, finishing it section by section. “Neither Grandpa nor Grandma would have borrowed a dime, even to build their house,” according to my cousins Mary and Whitey. <br />
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It was pretty much a one-man job, though Joe’s boys wanted to help. The problem was, they were just little tykes. So he’d give them each a block of wood and some nails, and while he was framing, they pounded a lot of nails, quickly learning which was the business end of a hammer!<br />
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Joe followed this pattern in every aspect of their lives, and eventually, the four sons drove teams of huge workhorses and helped their Dad do all the labor on the dry farm homestead. The three daughters learned to garden, cook, can and bake the quantities of homemade food that were required to feed a large family, occasional hired help and neighbors who might drop in. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDmrOna2S9nWXLasr6RrQOvoR0kJVjdbgUMT1saqzIx7Vplqpv6HQl2buRn1_DIUTk0z_RSE2u0q19LYPKrz4ZHLskQxNNoDKB1-3wSMti-UT5OkUe4Cj5xM2p0pz-cprThbW7cgnLAqYP/s1600/IMG_0039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDmrOna2S9nWXLasr6RrQOvoR0kJVjdbgUMT1saqzIx7Vplqpv6HQl2buRn1_DIUTk0z_RSE2u0q19LYPKrz4ZHLskQxNNoDKB1-3wSMti-UT5OkUe4Cj5xM2p0pz-cprThbW7cgnLAqYP/s640/IMG_0039.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>But I digress. Weather in the area is historically changeable, and family legend has it that it snowed on July 7, 1916, the day Dad was born. (Sticklers for accuracy point out that the snow fell about 10 miles from the farm in the mountains, at Packsaddle Lake. But still, it WAS July! I daresay a fire blazed in the stove to warm the house for the new arrival.) <br />
I don’t know who delivered Dad. There was a doctor in Newdale, 17 miles away, and one in Sugar City, 23 miles away. However, I believe his grandmother, Alice’s mother, Sarah, probably delivered him. She had taken midwife training from Dr. Ellis Shipp in Salt Lake City and had delivered many babies. <br />
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Joe was lucky to have such a mother-in-law—a neighbor, Joe Umphrey, wrote: ”Had 14 children born. . . During the birth of the children there was a doctor present about three times. About three times I was midwife myself. Bessie told me what to do and I done it.” <br />
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The large home became the center of the Clementsville community. Summer Sunday afternoons brought family and friends for fried chicken and homemade ice cream, frozen with snow kept from melting by covering last winter’s snowdrifts with straw. <br />
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Joe Nelson worked the farm until 1941, when his oldest son, Henry, took over. Henry and Saville and their young family moved in, and voices of another generation rang through the rooms. In 1971, Henry’s oldest son, Albert, took over. I’m grateful Al and his wife Joan haven’t changed things—my girl cousins’ bedroom still has 1950’s pink and blue wallpaper decorated with skunks and bunnies, and the dark hardwood banister shines, worn to a patina by the hands of generations of Nelsons, Dad included. Every room has a transom above the door, and an antique tear-drop shaped fire extinguisher near the ceiling.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirUnug5CWidY8xI3pg69TtXGP8B1caSXwk5r6M63X_SgddeJhV7ICVBvT8EaCg-4i5QcFMrAGQDoEAccRSZsIdMVY-1Aio2mtI_XfTOXNAznKssKfvt1th_Qlet37LVTXLwm4ylNBglIgF/s1600/IMG_0027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirUnug5CWidY8xI3pg69TtXGP8B1caSXwk5r6M63X_SgddeJhV7ICVBvT8EaCg-4i5QcFMrAGQDoEAccRSZsIdMVY-1Aio2mtI_XfTOXNAznKssKfvt1th_Qlet37LVTXLwm4ylNBglIgF/s640/IMG_0027.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
When Mary’s granddaughter told a friend back East she was going to a reunion at this home in Idaho, her friend said, “Why would you want to go there?” She replied, “That’s where I come from, that’s where my family lives, AND – we all like each other!” There’s magic in a home built with love.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKOLAPI-H4_8D5m7r8QcDlLDc30waQnlTxaeQdfm4e4Fsub08tCnAUiXHJtjiJeuHBK4r-uig5MGQrF6YZQM8EbiaT2e9p73dwZ8YPm0fH1dI_Rn_jCAJ8n2R36Cj4_pTpSGRmFKa8gpt6/s1600/IMG_0053.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKOLAPI-H4_8D5m7r8QcDlLDc30waQnlTxaeQdfm4e4Fsub08tCnAUiXHJtjiJeuHBK4r-uig5MGQrF6YZQM8EbiaT2e9p73dwZ8YPm0fH1dI_Rn_jCAJ8n2R36Cj4_pTpSGRmFKa8gpt6/s640/IMG_0053.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA4lah1jmkGSBN2ONwZM2CCsJ2g9gEAwRslKxJt7x3yeK46l46oV2q6CJMq2gUTc_MX69oEZ8oXJ0ESjO9Y5UfEE145ajr3YyOtrFy046nz2picdWh4jg-_fY0zVfYem2ruTZxmyWdEO86/s1600/IMG_0044.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA4lah1jmkGSBN2ONwZM2CCsJ2g9gEAwRslKxJt7x3yeK46l46oV2q6CJMq2gUTc_MX69oEZ8oXJ0ESjO9Y5UfEE145ajr3YyOtrFy046nz2picdWh4jg-_fY0zVfYem2ruTZxmyWdEO86/s640/IMG_0044.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>Holm Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11160451327215004916noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4567464428376578336.post-39457491250926726752011-09-16T16:20:00.000-07:002011-09-16T16:27:44.885-07:00Hi all!I suppose I can take a moment out of my birthday to post! ;)<br /><br />This is Nicolette, by the way. It feels like we haven't done much, and yet we've been busy!<br /><br />Our big news is that Aaron got a new job, back in Reno. So we're moving again! We have to be there Nov 1, so we'll be busy packing, driving, and unpacking the last week of October.<br /><br />Kirin started the third grade. We were going to start a Girl Scout troop, but since we're moving, that's on hold. I did the leadership training in August, and we'll transfer all that to Reno.<br /><br />Aaron's been working at the Ocean Spray bottling plant here in Las Vegas for the last year. It's been good, but not great. This new opportunity in Reno is programming for a medical equipment maker. Small start up, the company is less than 10 people. He's excited to get to use a skill (programming) that he doesn't usually get to do.<br /><br />I started back to school. I'm attending Western Governor's University online. Hopefully, I will be done with a Bachelor's in Accounting within the year. As quick as I can manage it.Miss(ed) Eloquencehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09749646767793427316noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4567464428376578336.post-87337417348189309412011-09-16T14:18:00.000-07:002011-09-16T14:41:32.832-07:00Christensen Update<div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuHqQ60-a_9m8CCshkiHe5u3MiILYKT5ZHVpQy-vGoG-4R-IAH7QimGUELK1jI1vRaXJO2BwsKjaawHhyphenhyphenxlpJsCl1Vbylzq9DzRaV-qg4iU4uKTroWh3o52aBr2mSH6rBuCtZFx3vOsseD/s1600/IMG_5144.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 320px; height: 240px; float: left; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653074033654627586" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuHqQ60-a_9m8CCshkiHe5u3MiILYKT5ZHVpQy-vGoG-4R-IAH7QimGUELK1jI1vRaXJO2BwsKjaawHhyphenhyphenxlpJsCl1Vbylzq9DzRaV-qg4iU4uKTroWh3o52aBr2mSH6rBuCtZFx3vOsseD/s320/IMG_5144.JPG" /></a><br /><div>Hi everyone, I am new to this and going to try to post some pictures. Our family news: We had a wonderful summer and just wish we could freeze time and enjoy it like this forever, but our boys insist on growing up, learning, and developing new talents. We spent a week on the Southern California beaches with Bruce's family. It was so fun to just relax, play in the sun and sand, and try to learn boogie boarding. We also went to SeaWorld. Instead of going to Lagoon this summer, we spent a weekend in Tooele and Mom and Dad took us four-wheeling and target shooting. We found a great little spot near the Stansbury mountains to spend the afternoon in the shade of the Junipers, and we weren't bothered by a soul. We feasted on barbequed hamburgers, hot dogs, and zuchinnis (yum!) with pasta salad, and bacon(!) maple cookies. It was so fun! Now the boys are back in school. Joel in 8th grade with new braces and hearing aids. Todd has joined him in Middle School. He's in 6th grade and playing football with Magic Valley Junior Football. Kurtis is in 2nd grade and playing soccer, coached by his dad, Bruce. Kurt is also beginning to take Violin lessons! Will has started preschool and really likes it. I am enjoying the start of the new schoolyear and getting back into the swing of things with our cub scout pack. Kurt turns 8 next week and will be in our Pack! He will be baptized and confirmed Nov. 5th, and Todd will receive the Aaronic Priesthood the next day, Nov. 6. If any of you can come and share this special weekend with us, we'd love to have you. Becky</div></div>Becky Christensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11100077827308583545noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4567464428376578336.post-90271391742579822032011-09-16T12:29:00.000-07:002011-09-16T12:29:09.065-07:00This just in from Danny via Facebook!Just a reminder to my extended family, work weekend Sept. 16 17 18. Planned activity Finnish the siding on North side of house and shooting guns in a celebratory manner. If weather continues to be wet, we will work inside on basement retaining wall.Emily Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13733429663041022754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4567464428376578336.post-79277480293504706882011-09-16T12:20:00.000-07:002011-09-16T12:22:24.421-07:00Welcome!Hi, everybody. Finally got the blog up and running. Please send me email addresses for anyone who needs to be added (or add them yourself, if you can). First, I'd like to share some of the pictures we took at the Farm this past July. Please post yours as well-- and also favorites from years past.<br />
<embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="https://picasaweb.google.com/s/c/bin/slideshow.swf" width="600" height="400" flashvars="host=picasaweb.google.com&hl=en_US&feat=flashalbum&RGB=0x000000&feed=https%3A%2F%2Fpicasaweb.google.com%2Fdata%2Ffeed%2Fapi%2Fuser%2Femilymurdock%2Falbumid%2F5653005481590518161%3Falt%3Drss%26kind%3Dphoto%26authkey%3DGv1sRgCMetnLrSxMDoygE%26hl%3Den_US" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer"></embed>Emily Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13733429663041022754noreply@blogger.com1