<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003</id><updated>2011-09-26T12:22:37.909-07:00</updated><title type='text'>lotts latest</title><subtitle type='html'>Insanity is hereditary...you get it from your kids</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>52</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-759874269043148856</id><published>2010-06-23T08:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-24T11:47:25.561-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ten for Tuesday</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Ten Jobs that I've Had:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I have listed 10 things that I have done as "jobs" since I was a little girl. Some of them earned an income, and some didn't.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;1. The first "job" I remember having was drying the silverware and putting it in the drawer when my mother washed the dishes.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;2. When I was in the third grade, I wanted to buy a lunch box so I wouldn't have to buy hot lunch. I hated that canned spinach my teacher made me eat before I could go play. In October, I got a job picking potatoes in a neighbor's field. I earned over just $19.00 and had more than enough to buy a lunch box. I used that lunch box until I was in Jr. High and decided that it was more "cool" to take my lunch in a brown bag.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;We picked potatoes using baskets like in the picture below, only, rather than putting the potatoes in a box, we dumped them into potato sacks that were picked and placed on a truck.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I picked potatoes every fall until I was a senior in high school. That year I worked on a combine in the field--picking out rocks, clods, and weeds as the potatoes went by on a conveyer belt that fed them right into the back of a truck.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/TCIqMvz4YpI/AAAAAAAAAkQ/WGIqN0ZHWhI/s1600/potato+baskets_edited.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 292px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 362px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485993694571553426" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/TCIqMvz4YpI/AAAAAAAAAkQ/WGIqN0ZHWhI/s400/potato+baskets_edited.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;3. Our mom gave us Saturday jobs when we were growing up. The first one I remember was getting down on my hands and knees to mop the strip of floor between the two pieces of carpet in our living room.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;I didn't use a brush like the lady in this picture.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/TCIqEDFaWbI/AAAAAAAAAkI/syUdlVdoZiU/s1600/scrubbing+floor.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 250px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 192px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485993545126533554" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/TCIqEDFaWbI/AAAAAAAAAkI/syUdlVdoZiU/s400/scrubbing+floor.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;4. We remodeled our home the summer I turned 10, and we didn't have a strip of carpet in the middle of the living room floor any more. My mother gave us other Saturday jobs. Sometimes we dusted and vacuumed the living room, and sometimes we cleaned and mopped the bathrooms. We also took turns setting the table, cleaning the table after eating, and washing the dishes.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;5. Like most teenagers, I babysat. I earned 25 cents and hour and sometimes my father told me he thought that was too much to ask.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/TCIp1bnLTDI/AAAAAAAAAkA/ghyGepl7FEA/s1600/babysitting.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 345px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485993294012566578" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/TCIp1bnLTDI/AAAAAAAAAkA/ghyGepl7FEA/s400/babysitting.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;6. We learned to help in the hay at a young age. I drove the little Ford tractor when I was &lt;strong&gt;really &lt;/strong&gt;young. I couldn't use the brake and clutch, so when I needed to stop I reached down and turned the key off. Later, I learned to drive the big John Deere, the Allis Chalmers, and the hay truck. I also drove a derrick one summer for my brother. This involved driving the tractor back and forth while he and his co-workers used a big fork to lift the bales of hay off of the back of a hay trailor and putting them in place on the haystack. When my brothers were both away, my sisters and I had to lift the bales and put them on the truck, and then unload them to build the haystack. My dad adjusted the baler to make the bales lighter for us. Years later, he told us, in tears, how much he hated to have to have his girls work in the hay field. We didn't enjoy the experience, but knew he needed us to do it, so it was just something we did.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/TCIpuWpdc-I/AAAAAAAAAj4/yNQ2PEKhu20/s1600/hay+stack.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485993172420883426" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/TCIpuWpdc-I/AAAAAAAAAj4/yNQ2PEKhu20/s400/hay+stack.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;7. We also had the "opportunity" of milking cows with my dad while my brothers were gone. My sister, Lois, and I took turns--one week morning shift and the next evening. Dad just did it both shifts all the time. I don't remember that my other sister had this great opportunity, but if she did, I am sure she will correct my posting.:)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/TCIpms46BiI/AAAAAAAAAjw/zEGRJLBMsrs/s1600/holstein-cow.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 343px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 251px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485993040952296994" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/TCIpms46BiI/AAAAAAAAAjw/zEGRJLBMsrs/s400/holstein-cow.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;8. One summer during my college years, I got some weiner pigs to raise, with the goal of selling them before school began to earn money for my tuition. I drove our pick-up into the Kraft Cheese plan to load old milk cans up with whey, the by-product of the cheese. Not fun. I am not sure I earned much money with this endeavor, but it was an experience.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/TCIphJJh2pI/AAAAAAAAAjo/0SBVx-lczwk/s1600/baby-pigs%2520(5).jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485992945458993810" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/TCIphJJh2pI/AAAAAAAAAjo/0SBVx-lczwk/s400/baby-pigs%2520(5).jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;9. When Wayne and I were first married, I worked at Barbizon of Utah, a factory that made ladies' slips, pajamas, and nightgowns. I ran a power sewing maching. The first few weeks I zig-zagged and sewed the side seams of full-length slips. Then I was moved to sewing the yokes of pajama tops and nightgowns to the bottom parts of them. I enjoyed the second assignment more than the first. I worked there for two years--until Wayne was through with his Master's Degree and we moved to St. Louis. Below is a nightgown made by Barbizon. Since the time I worked there, Barbizon sold its company to someone else. The building in Provo where I worked is no longer there.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/TCIoSS_ilQI/AAAAAAAAAjg/JGoh1IubQYw/s1600/Barbizon.jpg"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485991590891787522" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/TCIoSS_ilQI/AAAAAAAAAjg/JGoh1IubQYw/s400/Barbizon.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;10. When Karen was little, and before Bryan was born, I taught piano lessons to some of the neighborhood children for three or four years. I hope some of them learned something. I did.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;My most rewarding "jobs" have been wife and mother. I didn't include these in my list because they haven't been mundane like the other jobs. On the contrary, even though they have been sometimes hard and often challenging, these jobs have given my life much happiness and joy. They have made my life worthwhile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-759874269043148856?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/759874269043148856/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=759874269043148856' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/759874269043148856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/759874269043148856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2010/06/ten-for-tuesday_23.html' title='Ten for Tuesday'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/TCIqMvz4YpI/AAAAAAAAAkQ/WGIqN0ZHWhI/s72-c/potato+baskets_edited.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-1274843759928483937</id><published>2010-06-01T07:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T09:13:45.249-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ten for Tuesday</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Ten Favorite Memories of Dad&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I have few pictures of my father and me, but I do have some wonderful memories. Choosing ten and writing them down brought back a lot of warm remembering time. I wish every little girl could think of her father as I think of mine.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;This is a picture of my father, Rulon Jones Callister, when he served in the army. I was born one year to the day after he was released from service.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/TAUgDPE3oeI/AAAAAAAAAjQ/2XEntxjuBog/s1600/IMG014.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 321px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477819761724727778" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/TAUgDPE3oeI/AAAAAAAAAjQ/2XEntxjuBog/s400/IMG014.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;Here are some of my memories:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;1. Playing with Dad. This picture was on an earlier last post, but I wanted to repeat it again, because I love it! Dad was good to play with us when he could take time off from farming. He splashed us with the shovel when he was watering the lawn, he swung us high into the air with his arms, and we always knew we were safe when we were with him.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/TAUfzC9EIHI/AAAAAAAAAjI/ejFqPHSBAq0/s1600/Anne+2yrs+old+in+Rulon%27s+arms_edited.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477819483592859762" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/TAUfzC9EIHI/AAAAAAAAAjI/ejFqPHSBAq0/s400/Anne+2yrs+old+in+Rulon%27s+arms_edited.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;2. Dancing with Dad. We used to have ward "Gold and Green Balls," and the whole family was invited. My dad always danced with me. I fondly remember standing on his toes to dance because I didn't know the steps. Other times, he would teach me the steps. One of my favorite dances to do with him with the shottish. I haven't seen or heard of anyone doing it for decades.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;3. Auctioneer. When I was young, our ward held ward dinners, followed by an auction, to raise money. I first remember raising money to help build our new chapel, and later to provide budget for the ward. My dad was usually the auctioneer. One time, I raised my hand, just like others were doing, to bid on something. My dad had to recognize my bid, even though he was unsure of what I was doing. There wasn't even time to get a nod from my mother. In the end, we went home with an item that "I" purchased, even though it wasn't something that either my mom or dady would have chosen.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;4. Taking time for family vacations. My dad, a farmer, worked all summer long. It wasn't often that he took a day off for fun, but when his brother came from California to spend time with family in Idaho (my grandparents, an aunt's family, an uncle or two, and us), the farm was put on hold for a few days so we could enjoy extended family fun. The most memorable times, because everyone was invited, were the trips to Yellowstone Park. We stayed in cabins, picnicked during the day, and threw bread from the cars to feed the bears. It was a time of bonding for all the cousins, and we all love to reflect on these trips.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;5. Fishing with Dad. I think I was about seven when I was first invited to go with Dad and the "boys" on opening day of fishing. On my first trip, Dad took me to a fishing hold and baited my hook. He handed me the pole and then turned to bait his own pole. Before he could finish, I had a fish on the end of my line. He helped me pull it in, and then rebaited my hook before turning back to his own pole. Again, I quickly caught a fish. Again, he helped me pull it in. This happened a third time, and then he taught me how to bait my own hook and pull in the fish so he could get some fishing done on his own. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;6. Father's day recitation. Thanks to my mom's talents, and her teaching ability, I was chosen to recite poems at ward programs and during Sunday School at an early age. One Father's Day I was chosen to give a poem during Sunday School as part of the program. It was a poem on loving your dad, and the last line went, "Thank you for being my dad, and Happy Father's Day." My dad was the bishop at the time, so was sitting on the stand. My mom encouraged me to turn and say the last line directly to him. I did, and it brought tears to his eyes. Of course, that was a common occurrence for Dad, but this time it had special meaning to him and me, too.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;7. Singing in Mutual. One mutual evening we had a program that included unrehearsed numbers. While some performers were alerted ahead of time, there was also a time when those in attendance could pick someone from the audience and ask them to perform. One of the ward members said he recalled a time years ago when my dad had sung a song in a church meeting, and he would like to hear him again. So, my dad, although nervous, stood and sang a hymn. He did a good job, too.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;8. Letting me into ball games. My dad, along with being a farmer, also taught high school for most of my growing years. Part of his responsibilies included being at sports events to take tickets for the basketball and football games. When I was in junior high school, I sometimes wanted to go to the games, and he would let me in to watch the teams play without buying a ticket. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My dad loved sports. When he was in high school he played football, basketball, particpated in track, and boxed. The year he was a senior, he won a state championship in Golden Glove boxing. Here he is in a boxing stance:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/TAUfr54xz2I/AAAAAAAAAjA/C62kskR4E0M/s1600/IMG070.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 243px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477819360899878754" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/TAUfr54xz2I/AAAAAAAAAjA/C62kskR4E0M/s400/IMG070.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;H&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;e and his brothers were always quick to start a basketball game in the backyard. Their mother used to ask the boys to go get some wood for the stove, and they would challenge each other to a game of Twenty-one to see who did the chore. After a win, the loser would declare it had to be a two out of three win, then a three out of five, until my poor, hardworking grandmother would end up getting the wood herself.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;There were six boys in the family, and they all played basketball in high school. The year the youngest was a senior, the high school gave my grandfather a season pass to all the basketball games, telling him that he deserved them after supplying so many players over the years.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Here is my dad with a basketball in the yard of the family home. Not having a concrete driveway, or wood floor, they played on the hard dirt in the yard:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/TAUfj8jMFUI/AAAAAAAAAi4/nxpVUZR5WFM/s1600/IMG032.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477819224175678786" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/TAUfj8jMFUI/AAAAAAAAAi4/nxpVUZR5WFM/s400/IMG032.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;9. Riding to school with Dad. I always rode the bus to school until I was a junior in high school. Then I started riding to school with Dad. We had some good visits in the car on the way. Later, I also rode home with him, too. One thing I enjoyed about riding home from school with Dad was that, while he was finishing up in his school room, I could go down to the gym and watch the boys practice basketball. One day he was ready to go before I returned to his home, so he went to the office and had me paged. "Anne Callister, your dad is ready to go home now." I wasn't really embarrassed, but I did make a bigger effort to be there when he was ready to go.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Here is a picture of my dad during his high school teaching days. I think it is a favorite picutre of many family members.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/TAUfYNU4sOI/AAAAAAAAAiw/Wt0jXwMwbHE/s1600/IMG031.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 280px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477819022520660194" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/TAUfYNU4sOI/AAAAAAAAAiw/Wt0jXwMwbHE/s400/IMG031.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;10. Visiting Nauvoo. In 1994, Wayne, Bryan, and I were making a trip to Nauvoo so that Wayne could deliver a van for the BYU Semester abroad program there. I thought it would be a great experience for my dad to visit the sites there, so I invited him to go with us. He agreed. Wayne and Bryan drove back and met Dad and me at the St. Louis airport. We drove to Nauvoo and had a rich experience visiting the sites there. Dad was excited to find the names of some of his ancestors at different sites and to know where some of them lived during the Nauvoo era, and was especially touched by our visit to Carthage and the jail there. Before our trip, ended, Donovan and his family, who were living in St. Louis at the time, came to join us.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Another highlight of our trip was the opportunity we had to do an endowment session in the temple. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;Here is Dad standing on the steps of the Nauvoo Temple.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/TAUfMHCuEAI/AAAAAAAAAio/1sUEP06qm8s/s1600/Rulon+at+Nauvoo+Temple+Temple_edited.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477818814675423234" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/TAUfMHCuEAI/AAAAAAAAAio/1sUEP06qm8s/s400/Rulon+at+Nauvoo+Temple+Temple_edited.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;There are a few favorite memories of my Dad. He's almost 92 now, and while his health is deteriorating, we are grateful for every day that he is still with us. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/TAUcSICz7dI/AAAAAAAAAh4/BOjTltemiOs/s1600/huf97fif_large_edited.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 192px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 289px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477815619488574930" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/TAUcSICz7dI/AAAAAAAAAh4/BOjTltemiOs/s400/huf97fif_large_edited.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-1274843759928483937?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/1274843759928483937/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=1274843759928483937' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/1274843759928483937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/1274843759928483937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2010/06/ten-for-tuesday.html' title='Ten for Tuesday'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/TAUgDPE3oeI/AAAAAAAAAjQ/2XEntxjuBog/s72-c/IMG014.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-5114197117744246922</id><published>2010-05-26T16:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-26T21:30:08.857-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ten for Tuesday--Favorite Teenage Memories</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;1. Getting my &lt;strong&gt;Driver's License&lt;/strong&gt;! In Idaho, we could get a driver's license at age 14. Yipee! Our family had a '59 Ford, similar to the one in the picture below (except ours was white, and it was just a Ford Custom, rather than a Galaxie). It had a stick shift on the steering column that I had to learn to use, and I did. Sometimes I would drive the car out on the highway heading towards Arco and see how fast I could get the Ford to go. I will never tell my Dad what I did, or how high I could get the speedometer to reach.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_2x1f9heDI/AAAAAAAAAhw/t1PIHN46P-k/s1600/Ford+4-door.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 168px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475728254623119410" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_2x1f9heDI/AAAAAAAAAhw/t1PIHN46P-k/s320/Ford+4-door.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;2. My first teenage boyfriend--the one who took me on my first date. I really liked him--for a long time. Now, though, when I take a good look back at our relationship, I sometimes wonder if he was so good to me so he could be close to my friend, LeeAnn, who dated a friend of his. We were often in the same group. I won't tell anyone how old I was when I had my first date, so don't ask.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_2xoTr-HwI/AAAAAAAAAho/F-9ZbLGDUKk/s1600/RonA_edited.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 238px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475728027989974786" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_2xoTr-HwI/AAAAAAAAAho/F-9ZbLGDUKk/s320/RonA_edited.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;3. My first concert. When I was in the 8th grade, the Letterman performed in concert in Pocatello. It was a missionary effort, and we were to take someone with us who was either non-member or inactive. I am not sure just how many of that category were actually in attendance, but the group performed to a packed house, and we all loved their concert.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_2xe1L-DYI/AAAAAAAAAhg/DzKdFlH_4wY/s1600/scan0006.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 250px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475727865183866242" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_2xe1L-DYI/AAAAAAAAAhg/DzKdFlH_4wY/s320/scan0006.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;4. Driving around in my best friend's car. Annette's father had a Volkswagen, almost like the one below, and, even though Idaho's law said you were to be 16 to be able to drive at night, her dad often let her take the car before she reached that age. We used to drive past the homes of all the cute boys and see if we could spot them. A couple of times we got caught, but hey, it was all worth it.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_2xGLKAq2I/AAAAAAAAAhY/KR9yMyDr86w/s1600/1963VolkswagenJuly18aBut.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475727441584499554" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_2xGLKAq2I/AAAAAAAAAhY/KR9yMyDr86w/s400/1963VolkswagenJuly18aBut.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;5. The day my house caught on fire. My 10th grade debate class had just started when my teacher told me I was wanted in the office. When I got there, the secretary told me my home was burning. My father, a school teacher, had already left, but the principal was willing to drive me home. I expected to see the whole house in flames when I got there, but there was only some smoke (the picture below is NOT my home, just another one that has smoke coming out the windows). The fire was put out with not a lot of burn damage. What had burned was my basement bedroom--the cement walls contained the flames. I lost almost everything I owned.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;There was a lot of smoke damage, though, so we all stayed someplace else for a few days. I stayed at first one friend's house and then another. A kind ward member let my parents use their empty rental home.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;What made this a good memory was the way our friends and neighbors gathered around us to help. The mothers of some of my friends held a "shower" for me and invited a huge crowd to replace my wardrobe. Members of the ward washed walls and repainted. There were many hours of service given to my family. It was very humbling to feel so loved.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 353px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 197px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475726809281809842" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_2whXpTTbI/AAAAAAAAAhQ/s6droC76IhQ/s400/Fire+2_edited.jpg" /&gt; &lt;em&gt;6. All church dance festival. Back in the "old days," the church used to hold a huge dance festival every June in Salt Lake, held in the University of Utah football stadium. When I was 16, some of the members of our stake were able to participate. One of the young men in our ward and I were our ward's dance directors, and we got to teach the others the dances. We did almost everything right, but when the stake dance directors came to see how our ward was doing, we all discovered that we had taught one part of the dance backwards! Oh well, we did it anyway, and I don't think that anyone else was the wiser. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_2uuyvyztI/AAAAAAAAAhA/SUlq8aRWPeg/s1600/scan0003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 218px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475724840871841490" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_2uuyvyztI/AAAAAAAAAhA/SUlq8aRWPeg/s400/scan0003.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;7. BYU homecoming. The fall of my senior year, I traveled to Provo, Utah, along with a couple of other friends, and attended BYU's homecoming. I stayed with one of my cousins, and she arranged for me to have a date to Fieldhouse Frolics and the football game. We got to see BYU's quarterback, Virgil Carter (pictured below) lead BYU to a 28-14 win over Utah State University. At that time, Utah State was a football powerhouse, occasionally being ranked among the top 10 football teams in the country, so it was exciting to see the Y win the game. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;For a small town girl, I found the buildings at the Y to be immense and was continually awed by the campus. Little did I know that the school would, in a few years, pay my husband's salary for a l-o-n-g time.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_2ukvevWPI/AAAAAAAAAg4/gkUodGo3Lak/s1600/Carter+Football.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 253px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 305px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475724668196313330" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_2ukvevWPI/AAAAAAAAAg4/gkUodGo3Lak/s400/Carter+Football.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;8. Debate tournaments. My senior year I was a member of our high school debate team and spent many week-ends traveling from school to school to participate in debate tournaments. Our school's women's team, of which I was a part, earned the right to travel to Moscow, Idaho, to participate in the state tournament. We didn't take first place, but we had a great trip anyway.&lt;/em&gt;  &lt;em&gt;Can you find me in the picture?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_2ubOkNPxI/AAAAAAAAAgw/6prDX_0nBjY/s1600/scan0005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 181px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475724504742051602" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_2ubOkNPxI/AAAAAAAAAgw/6prDX_0nBjY/s400/scan0005.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;9. Dad and General Conference. The first few weeks of my freshman year at the Y, I was really homesick, so when one of my cousins invited me to go to Salt Lake to see my dad when he came down for General Conference, I jumped at the chance. We went to Temple Square to see if we could find my dad. Now, anyone who has been on Temple Square during conference weekend knows that the picture below is a weak indication of the number of people who attend conference. So, how was I supposed to find my father? I just knew that he would be showing up for the meeting at the time and place where he was expected to be. Sure enough, we watched and waited, and soon, there he was. I think he was as glad to see me as I was to see him. Because he was supposed to sit in area blocked out for bishops and stake presidents, I didn't get to attend the session with him, but we did make plans to meet after the meeting ended. I not only enjoyed the time spent with him, but it was a great feeling to know that I could depend on my dad to be where he was supposed to be when he was supposed to be there. My dad has always been that way.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_2uPwqm7BI/AAAAAAAAAgo/09sUUlS1ayc/s1600/tabernacle+with+people.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 271px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475724307737275410" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_2uPwqm7BI/AAAAAAAAAgo/09sUUlS1ayc/s400/tabernacle+with+people.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;10. Meeting my husband. I was still only 18 when I walked into a sacrament meeting and noticed the smile and dimples of the handsome returned missionary pictured below. It didn't take long for me to know that he was special, and two years later (there are a lot of stories there), we were married. I would definitely say this was my most memorable teenage memory.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_2ts4WfCCI/AAAAAAAAAgg/Dkg8oPn7wGg/s1600/wedding_001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 291px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475723708504934434" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_2ts4WfCCI/AAAAAAAAAgg/Dkg8oPn7wGg/s400/wedding_001.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-5114197117744246922?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/5114197117744246922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=5114197117744246922' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/5114197117744246922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/5114197117744246922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2010/05/ten-for-tuesday-favorite-teenage.html' title='Ten for Tuesday--Favorite Teenage Memories'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_2x1f9heDI/AAAAAAAAAhw/t1PIHN46P-k/s72-c/Ford+4-door.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-765422574139092891</id><published>2010-05-19T09:46:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-19T10:46:10.324-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ten for Tuesday</title><content type='html'>Ten (10) Inventions That Have Made My Life Easier&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fear these pictures are really going to date me. However, I am still grateful for the changes that have been made in my life over the past however many years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Indoor plumbing. When I was born, my home had only the "facilities" shown below:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_QYXp5b26I/AAAAAAAAAgQ/jItKJsi75oE/s1600/outhouse.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 125px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 94px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473026241824807842" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_QYXp5b26I/AAAAAAAAAgQ/jItKJsi75oE/s400/outhouse.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; When I was 2 1/2 years old, my family moved to a home that had a flushing toilet--hurray!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_QYOw6zX0I/AAAAAAAAAgI/NpVDYKqMey8/s1600/toilet.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 216px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 277px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473026089090768706" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_QYOw6zX0I/AAAAAAAAAgI/NpVDYKqMey8/s400/toilet.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; 2. Bathtubs. The first house I lived in had no hot water, but the barn did! My mother sometimes took us out to the barn and filled up the milking equipment tubs to give us a warm bath.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we moved, the home we move into had a shower, but no tub. While the older members of my family used the shower, on Saturday night my mom filled up a round metal tub, and we took turns taking our weekly bath. When I was 10, my family remodeled our home and put a tub/shower combination in the bathroom. Heavenly!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_QX9pDo6-I/AAAAAAAAAf4/EDc6aDzN1sU/s1600/bathtub.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 215px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 215px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473025794922572770" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_QX9pDo6-I/AAAAAAAAAf4/EDc6aDzN1sU/s400/bathtub.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Hot Water Heaters. We loved having a bath in warm water--right in the house, and I know Mom appreciated the hot water, too.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_QXt30eQ_I/AAAAAAAAAfo/x9OVpAg7MNI/s1600/hot+water+heater.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 175px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 175px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473025524007584754" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_QXt30eQ_I/AAAAAAAAAfo/x9OVpAg7MNI/s400/hot+water+heater.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; 4. The first washing machine I remember was a wringer washer that sat in what we called the back porch. Mom used that to wash our clothes, and I am sure she was &lt;em&gt;very&lt;/em&gt; careful because some years before my grandmother caught her hand in the wringer. Ouch!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_QXnNEnWKI/AAAAAAAAAfg/MGWBs3rqcyc/s1600/wringer+washer.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 225px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 299px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473025409453349026" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_QXnNEnWKI/AAAAAAAAAfg/MGWBs3rqcyc/s400/wringer+washer.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Of course we were all glad (Mom most of all) when we got our first automatic clothes washer. No, it didn't look quite like this one, but it was a good one that lasted for more years than the newer ones do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_QXievLEhI/AAAAAAAAAfY/6c76JviUrZE/s1600/Washer.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 315px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473025328295907858" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_QXievLEhI/AAAAAAAAAfY/6c76JviUrZE/s400/Washer.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; 5. Modern stoves. I remember my mom cooking on a coal stove. Before it was fired up, someone had to go out to the coal pile and fill up the coal bucket. One night, when Mom and Dad were gone, my older brothers and I made a game to see who could walk around the house without stepping on the floor. When we got to the coal stove, we walked right across the top of it. I was barefoot, but stepped right out anyway. Fortunately, the fire had been out for a while so I just got very warm feet and not any bad burns.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_QXY7TpluI/AAAAAAAAAfQ/EV6dM1kNI9w/s1600/coal+stove.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473025164166403810" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_QXY7TpluI/AAAAAAAAAfQ/EV6dM1kNI9w/s400/coal+stove.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; One year the oven door in the old stove was sprung, so my mom could no longer use it for baking. She tried making cookies in an old electric roaster for a while, but then my oldest brother tired of that. He offered his saved money as a down payment on an electric stove, and my parents used it for just that. Our first one looked similar to the stove below. It had two ovens (great), but the four burners were not so close together. My mom used it for years and years. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_QXTKRqY8I/AAAAAAAAAfI/RG4YhgDurT0/s1600/electric+range.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 225px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473025065105384386" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_QXTKRqY8I/AAAAAAAAAfI/RG4YhgDurT0/s400/electric+range.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Today, while I am grateful for my electric range (complete with oven), I am also thankful for our microwave. What would any of us do without them?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. We didn't have a furnace in our home until I was about six. We had a heater in the living room, sat close to the coal stove in the kitchen, and took hotwater bottles to bed with us to warm the sheets in the winter. After getting the furnace, I sometimes sat by the vent behind the bathroom door when the furnace was running just to feel the warmth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_QXGEqAogI/AAAAAAAAAe4/9NHqT5IkSlY/s1600/furnace.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 185px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 197px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473024840258593282" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_QXGEqAogI/AAAAAAAAAe4/9NHqT5IkSlY/s400/furnace.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; 7. Clothes dryer. My mom didn't have a clothes dryer until after I was married. She dried her clothes on a clothes line. In the winter, sometimes the clothes would freeze while still wet, so she would bring them in and hang them over chairs, tables, and other furniture so they could thaw and then dry. We all got to take turns hanging the clothes out and bringing them in. I do know, though, that few things smell better than sheets that have been dried in the sun while hanging on a clothes line.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_QW8LoD7mI/AAAAAAAAAew/56wqBfkXy2w/s1600/clothesline.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 298px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473024670330777186" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_QW8LoD7mI/AAAAAAAAAew/56wqBfkXy2w/s400/clothesline.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Her first clothes dryer was a used one that my aunt gave her when she got a new matching washer and dryer and didn't need her old one any more. Boy, did it make the jeans and towels softer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_QW1gfZJVI/AAAAAAAAAeo/Gm_dujqrlf8/s1600/dryer.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 343px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473024555672479058" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_QW1gfZJVI/AAAAAAAAAeo/Gm_dujqrlf8/s400/dryer.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; 8. Hay bale elevator. You had to be there to appreciate this one. When my two older brothers were both on missions and no longer living at home, the three girls had to help in the hay. We built haystacks like this one, sometimes even bigger:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_QWrgOYuyI/AAAAAAAAAeg/lOJLHA4fSto/s1600/hay+stack.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473024383802456866" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_QWrgOYuyI/AAAAAAAAAeg/lOJLHA4fSto/s400/hay+stack.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; My dad knew it was hard work for girls, so he bought a hay bale elevator that would life the hay bales from the truck up to the different levels of the stack. This way we didn't have to throw them so far.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_QWYSS8S9I/AAAAAAAAAeY/3DXhD5OcLNs/s1600/bale+elevator.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 250px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 250px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473024053645954002" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_QWYSS8S9I/AAAAAAAAAeY/3DXhD5OcLNs/s400/bale+elevator.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; We also had an elevator on wheels that hooked onto the side of the truck out in the field. If the truck driver was good (and I was), the elevator would just pick those bales up and take them up to the level where hay was being stacked on the truck. Again, this kept us from having to throw the hay bales so far.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;9. Dishwasher. My mom didn't have a dishwasher until after she moved from the home where I grew up into her new home on the farm my dad bought in 1971. I know she enjoyed having it. Even though most of the children were gone from home, it was a great help when the grandchildren came. I am grateful that I have one, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_QWPduXQnI/AAAAAAAAAeQ/dbKb0yHRORM/s1600/dishwasher.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 100px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 100px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473023902094934642" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_QWPduXQnI/AAAAAAAAAeQ/dbKb0yHRORM/s400/dishwasher.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; 10. Computers and everything they mean.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; fun typing on an old typewriter with two pieces of carbon paper stacked between three sheets of typing paper to try to correctly type a report or term paper that had to be turned in. Today, we applaud the computer, the keyboard, the printer, and all that go hand in hand to make our communication easier. Not only are reports, etc., easier to do, but we have email, facebook, blogs, and other computer programs that are a great part of our everyday lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_QWHqH2ONI/AAAAAAAAAeI/G6S8JElCBRU/s1600/computer.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 141px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473023767984093394" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_QWHqH2ONI/AAAAAAAAAeI/G6S8JElCBRU/s400/computer.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I'm grateful that all I have all the blessings of the "new" inventions listed above.  Because of them, my life is much easier than my mom's was.  It will be interesting, in future years, to see how some of these have become improved for my own children and what science and research brings to make their lives easier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-765422574139092891?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/765422574139092891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=765422574139092891' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/765422574139092891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/765422574139092891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2010/05/ten-for-tuesday_19.html' title='Ten for Tuesday'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S_QYXp5b26I/AAAAAAAAAgQ/jItKJsi75oE/s72-c/outhouse.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-9044275959875774766</id><published>2010-05-11T11:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-11T12:10:56.948-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ten for Tuesday</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Ten Childhood Memories&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It was hard to pick out only ten memories from my childhood, but I chose some that stand out in my mind. I don't have pictures to go with all of them due to the face that many of my own pictures are presently packed away, and some of the pictures that might go with my choices are in someone else's collection. But following are some remembrances of my growing years.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;1. Memories of my Dad. Below is a picture of him holding me in his arms. Notice how proud he is of his first daughter. When I was not much older than this, he used to swing me on the lawn holding onto one of my arms and one leg. I called it "Awn Egg," which was short for swinging out on the "lawn" holding onto a "leg." It was not uncommon for me to plead, "Awn egg, Daddy, awn egg." And he usually complied. When we flood irrigated our lawn, he would chase after us and, using the back of his shovel, splash us with water. We all loved it!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S-mgHqVJKLI/AAAAAAAAAdY/w91NUs-753U/s1600/Anne+2yrs+old+in+Rulon%27s+arms_edited.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470079275900676274" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S-mgHqVJKLI/AAAAAAAAAdY/w91NUs-753U/s400/Anne+2yrs+old+in+Rulon%27s+arms_edited.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;2. Swinging out over the hill. You might not be able to tell from this picture, but we lived on a hill, and it dropped off just behind the swings (the lane and a field are down below). We didn't always have the saddle in a swing, that was a fun addition for a while. You really can't see the swing on the left, but it was a swing made out of part of a tire, and my brother, Seth, used to be rocked to sleep when he was a baby and then nap in it. That's me standing in the saddle with the cowboy (girl) hat on my head.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S-mf-kQPdcI/AAAAAAAAAdQ/UhobqFMy4XI/s1600/swings_edited.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 222px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470079119650682306" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S-mf-kQPdcI/AAAAAAAAAdQ/UhobqFMy4XI/s400/swings_edited.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;3. Visiting Yellowstone park. In the summer, when Uncle Eldon came up from California to visit, we would meet him in Lava Hot spring for a fun swim, and then two or three times, several families of relatives went to Yellowstone Park for a fun vacation. We especially loved it when the California cousins came because then we all got a break from the farm work to have a little family fun.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S-mfqVURPoI/AAAAAAAAAdI/FZqzjLQN6kI/s1600/old_faithful254.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 301px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470078772043660930" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S-mfqVURPoI/AAAAAAAAAdI/FZqzjLQN6kI/s400/old_faithful254.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;4. Indian Hot Springs. I don't have a picture of this place, but it is, or at least was, a swim resort on the other side of American Falls. When I was in the third grade, my oldest brother, Jay, hurt his leg badly in a hay baler. Knowing that water therapy was good for it, the next summer my parents took us swimming on Saturdays to Indian Hot Springs. We swam and then had a picnic lunch. It was a great time for all of us, even though I know now as I look back on it that it was a financial sacrifice for my parents.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;5. Fishing. I was only about six years old when my father first let me go out with the men and boys for the opening day of fishing, which occurred, in those days, on June 4th every year.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;When I was 10 years old, I asked for a fishing pole for my birthday. My mom tried to talk me into a new dress, but it didn't work. I got my fishing pole, and the next year I received a reel to go with it. Before then I used a long willow with fishing line attached to it. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;One special part of going fishing was taking my grandfather. He had a hard time sitting still if there were no fish biting where he was situated. When it was time to go home we would have to drive up and down the road on the side of the stream hollering, "Grandpa, Dad," over and over until he could finally hear us and come. Below is a picture of him when he was older and couldn't move as well. He is just sitting on the side of the creek with his fishing pole. I'm not sure anyone in the family loved fishing more than my grandpa.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S-mfYd5n-YI/AAAAAAAAAdA/GVwCjf_EuFk/s1600/Grandpa+fishing_edited.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470078465110178178" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S-mfYd5n-YI/AAAAAAAAAdA/GVwCjf_EuFk/s400/Grandpa+fishing_edited.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;6. 24th of July celebrations. Our ward always celebrated the 24th of July with a parade, booths, food, ball games, and programs. One year my best friend, Annette, and I decorated our family's red wagon to look like a covered wagon. My younger sister, Grace, rode in it as we pulled it around the block. We won a prize for our parade entry.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S-mexZCKdxI/AAAAAAAAAc4/q1mtNIdT9bI/s1600/24th_edited.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 254px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470077793788917522" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S-mexZCKdxI/AAAAAAAAAc4/q1mtNIdT9bI/s400/24th_edited.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;7. Swimming in the summertime. When we were very young, we were allowed to go down to the "pond" where the water was held for pumping it up the hill to irrigate the fields above and play in the water. We later went swimming in the canal that ran through the farm. The biggest fun, though, was when we were old enough to ride an innertube on the big canal about three miles north of our home. Today my children look at those rapids and laugh. "Do you call those rapids, Mom?" When we hold family reunions, though, the out-of-state cousins come and love to take a turn in the cold water. This picture was taken just last summer at the time of our last big family reunion.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S-mebvAiJeI/AAAAAAAAAcw/Oho4IC-gUJI/s1600/rapids.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470077421730538978" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S-mebvAiJeI/AAAAAAAAAcw/Oho4IC-gUJI/s400/rapids.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;8. Visiting the Eastern Idaho State Fair. The fair was held in Blackfoot every September, and district schools were let out of the first day. On "Kids Day," we all got in free and then got to spend out hard earned money riding the rides on the midway or visiting the exhibits.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;9. Our skating rink. I really feel badly that I don't have any pictures of this. In January, when the winter was the coldest, out dear mom would take a hose out to our front lawn and lay down a layer of water. After it froze, she would put down another, and another, until we had a smooth covering of ice on the area. We even put a floodlight out on the corner of the house, and then, after school and in the evening, we could go ice skating. Not only did our family enjoy it, but many of the neighborhood kids as well. After the evening's skating, Mom would again hose down the ice so it would be smooth again for the next day. It was only cold enough for the ice to stay there for about two weeks, but we enjoyed it when we could.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;10. My trip to Boise. The summer I turned 12, I went to Boise for two weeks to stay with my cousin, Nona, and her family. My 12th birthday was celebrated while I was there. It was a fun time. We went swimming, to the movies, played badmitton in the backyard, hiked downtown to the parks there, and managed to sneak the ice cream from the freezer out through a window to the screened-in back porch where Nona and I slept several times. When it was time to go home, I was driven to the train station in an Edsel (see how long ago it was), and then I took my first train ride to get home. Even though I loved my time in Boise, I was sure glad to see my mother when I got off the train in Pocatell0.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-9044275959875774766?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/9044275959875774766/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=9044275959875774766' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/9044275959875774766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/9044275959875774766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2010/05/ten-for-tuesday_11.html' title='Ten for Tuesday'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S-mgHqVJKLI/AAAAAAAAAdY/w91NUs-753U/s72-c/Anne+2yrs+old+in+Rulon%27s+arms_edited.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-4420228402396704843</id><published>2010-05-04T13:17:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-04T13:54:43.256-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ten for Tuesday</title><content type='html'>Ten Things I Learned from My Mother:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Here's my mom: Margaret Smith Callister. She was a wonderful person and I miss her.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S-CDK-fNmyI/AAAAAAAAAco/gPKvxjq_Auo/s1600/41fb680ac3971dfd_large_edited.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 181px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 228px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467514172223626018" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S-CDK-fNmyI/AAAAAAAAAco/gPKvxjq_Auo/s400/41fb680ac3971dfd_large_edited.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; 1. Honor your father. . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S-CC3xUl9VI/AAAAAAAAAcg/yei4pIyxoPk/s1600/IMG031.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 280px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467513842271909202" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S-CC3xUl9VI/AAAAAAAAAcg/yei4pIyxoPk/s400/IMG031.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;. . . and respect your husband.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S-CCsR0lldI/AAAAAAAAAcY/8u0QY157sPE/s1600/Wayne.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 302px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467513644837606866" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S-CCsR0lldI/AAAAAAAAAcY/8u0QY157sPE/s400/Wayne.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; 2. Live your religion. This means going to church, paying your tithing, living virtuously, marrying in the temple, etc., etc., etc. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S-CCUbsMalI/AAAAAAAAAcA/LEPXChXWCeU/s1600/IF+Temple.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 307px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467513235169897042" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S-CCUbsMalI/AAAAAAAAAcA/LEPXChXWCeU/s400/IF+Temple.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; 3. Don't fight with your brothers and sisters. Friends may come and go, but families are forever.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S-CCD7yS1YI/AAAAAAAAAb4/YZ2gr7HPcoI/s1600/children+fighting.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 157px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 170px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467512951727641986" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S-CCD7yS1YI/AAAAAAAAAb4/YZ2gr7HPcoI/s400/children+fighting.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Sprinkled clothes don't get moldy if you put them in the freezer. Not everyone will understand this, but back in the "olden days," before spray irons and permapress material, we sprinkled out clothes to dampen them so they would iron out better. At our house we used a small appliance, like the one pictures below, placed into the mouth of a root beer bottle (no Coca-Cola at our house) filled with water. Then we just shook the water, or sprinkled it, on the clothes we were going to iron. To make sure the dampness went through all of the material, we rolled the clothing item up and let it sit for a while. Should one dampen their clothes, put them in a laundry basket to sit for a while, and then have something come up, the clothes could (especially in warm weather) develop small mold spots. So, if you couldn't get around to ironing right away, you could put your clothes in the freezer and they would stay in fine condition until you could get to your iron.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S-CB-MnpjbI/AAAAAAAAAbw/BGl7f1_Sjlg/s1600/clothes+sprinkler.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 225px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467512853167181234" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S-CB-MnpjbI/AAAAAAAAAbw/BGl7f1_Sjlg/s400/clothes+sprinkler.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; 5. Music is a good thing. We all learned to play the piano on one similar to the picture below. Our mother's goal was to have us all play well enough to play the hymns. She also taught us to sing, even though we weren't all great singers. She sang a lot, and those old songs mean a lot to me even today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S-CBwxDLJkI/AAAAAAAAAbo/STUs2bbHCWA/s1600/old+piano.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 288px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467512622428137026" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S-CBwxDLJkI/AAAAAAAAAbo/STUs2bbHCWA/s400/old+piano.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; 6. Kneading bread is an art--and she taught it well. We had homemade bread almost all the time. When my dad was the bishop, he had her take a loaf (with the crusts cut off) to use for the sacrament every week. (Jan, take note of this.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S-CBldrMI6I/AAAAAAAAAbg/gO68Ara32gQ/s1600/kneading+bread.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 386px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 336px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467512428248703906" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S-CBldrMI6I/AAAAAAAAAbg/gO68Ara32gQ/s400/kneading+bread.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; 7. Don't pull a face--it might freeze that way, and then how would you look?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S-CBbiz4i1I/AAAAAAAAAbY/pfUCII6CnOI/s1600/funny+face.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 299px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467512257828653906" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S-CBbiz4i1I/AAAAAAAAAbY/pfUCII6CnOI/s400/funny+face.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; 8. Wear clean underwear every day! You might get in an accident, and your mom would be very embarrassed if you needed treatment and your underwear was dirty or in bad repair.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;(I made this picture smaller so as to not offend the sensitive reader.)&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S-CBU-RL3-I/AAAAAAAAAbQ/KqzPQm88suc/s1600/Hanes+for+her.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 175px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 175px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467512144940228578" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S-CBU-RL3-I/AAAAAAAAAbQ/KqzPQm88suc/s320/Hanes+for+her.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; 9. Be on time! Oh, and if you set your clock ahead so it is five minutes fast, you will seldom be late.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S-CBKFWD6HI/AAAAAAAAAbI/--4gDyEeeiU/s1600/clock.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 160px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467511957861165170" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S-CBKFWD6HI/AAAAAAAAAbI/--4gDyEeeiU/s400/clock.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;10. Sorry, I don't have a picture for this. We were always told, when we went out the door, to "BE GOOD, AND HAVE FUN!" An oxymoron--no, just good sense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-4420228402396704843?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/4420228402396704843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=4420228402396704843' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/4420228402396704843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/4420228402396704843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2010/05/ten-for-tuesday.html' title='Ten for Tuesday'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S-CDK-fNmyI/AAAAAAAAAco/gPKvxjq_Auo/s72-c/41fb680ac3971dfd_large_edited.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-3883331461604938980</id><published>2010-04-28T10:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-28T10:34:15.953-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ten for Tuesday</title><content type='html'>Ten Things that Make Me Smile&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Below are pictures of ten things that make my smile.  My Grandchildren.  This picture was taken last August when little Emma was only about 10 days old, so most of the children have changed a bit since it was taken, but we haven't had them all together since then, so it's the best I can do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They are, (along with the name of the parent who grew up in our family):  Back row:  Isabel (Kristen) Dreyton and Dominique (Donovan); front row:  Jyllian (Donovan), Meg and Mattison (Kristen), little Emma (Karen), Jasmine (Donovan), and Ethan (Karen).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S9hv_NjnbtI/AAAAAAAAAbA/Le5SKI5Kiu0/s1600/Grandchildren_edited.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465241279575584466" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S9hv_NjnbtI/AAAAAAAAAbA/Le5SKI5Kiu0/s400/Grandchildren_edited.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Oh, there are only nine children, you say, and the list is supposed to be Ten Things.  Well, that's because it's pretty hard to get a picture of the newest announced addition to our family.  Bryan and Melissa's little one is due in October--too early to have even an ultra sound to post on the blog. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We love all of these kids, and they do make us smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-3883331461604938980?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/3883331461604938980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=3883331461604938980' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/3883331461604938980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/3883331461604938980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2010/04/ten-for-tuesday.html' title='Ten for Tuesday'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S9hv_NjnbtI/AAAAAAAAAbA/Le5SKI5Kiu0/s72-c/Grandchildren_edited.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-3757143577222578007</id><published>2010-04-21T09:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-21T11:38:04.252-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ten for Tuesday--on Wednesday</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;10 Favorite Places to Vacation (or Visit)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could say that I took all of these pictures. Unfortunately, the pictures I took of these places are stored somewhere in the depths of my garage, so I found others that depict places we have been that I enjoyed and wouldn't mind visiting again. I also found pictures of other places we have visited that I enjoyed, but as the list was to include only ten places, I will have to save these for another day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have placed my favorites in reverse order, with my very favorite ones at the end of my posting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;10. Tikal National Park in Guatemala&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm sorry this picture turned out so small. There are five pyramids like the one in the photo, and some of them are in the jungle rather than in a clearing like this one is. Wayne and I hiked to the top of Pyramid 5, which, I think, is supposed to be the highest. We had to take a jungle path to get to the bottom of it before we climbed it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S88tTdeQGdI/AAAAAAAAAa4/3rWVFvPn4ho/s1600/Tikal.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 187px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 128px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462634685375977938" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S88tTdeQGdI/AAAAAAAAAa4/3rWVFvPn4ho/s400/Tikal.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;9. The Blue Mosque in Istanbul, Turkey&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Beautiful, isn't it?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S88tKXQbM4I/AAAAAAAAAaw/wfcDPSiuO5Q/s1600/blue-mosque.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 262px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462634529088549762" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S88tKXQbM4I/AAAAAAAAAaw/wfcDPSiuO5Q/s400/blue-mosque.jpg" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;8. Neuschwanstein Castle in Germany&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;This positively beautiful castle was Walt Disney's inspiration for one his theme park's castle. Unfortunately, his setting is not as breathtaking as the real thing. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S88s3AzlMJI/AAAAAAAAAao/SaZNZvMd9nY/s1600/neuschwanstein+castle.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 227px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 321px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462634196644475026" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S88s3AzlMJI/AAAAAAAAAao/SaZNZvMd9nY/s400/neuschwanstein+castle.jpg" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;7. Petra, in Jordon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;It is necessary to hike through a water carved canyon to get to this site. The canyon opens up to a wider canyon where there are many ancient buildings carved into the sheer, high walls. This particular one, the Treasure, was featured in the movie&lt;em&gt;, Raiders of the Lost Ark--the Last Crusade&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S88sYS4RtcI/AAAAAAAAAag/iHBOI9rTUiY/s1600/Petra.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 332px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462633668920063426" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S88sYS4RtcI/AAAAAAAAAag/iHBOI9rTUiY/s400/Petra.jpg" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. St. Basil's Cathedral--Moscow, Russia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This cathedral, situated in Red Square, really is painted in these bright colors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S88sSGZlzLI/AAAAAAAAAaY/LFwuP4KQZyk/s1600/St.+Basils.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 282px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462633562490916018" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S88sSGZlzLI/AAAAAAAAAaY/LFwuP4KQZyk/s400/St.+Basils.jpg" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;5. Hawaii &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Wayne took me to Hawaii for our 40th anniversary. We were fortunate to get to visit the temple in Laie. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S88sE1Od8gI/AAAAAAAAAaQ/NIXPs8BUCJQ/s1600/IMG_0721.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462633334542561794" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S88sE1Od8gI/AAAAAAAAAaQ/NIXPs8BUCJQ/s400/IMG_0721.JPG" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;4. Nauvoo--the City Beautiful &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;One of my very favorite places to visit in Nauvoo. We have been there several times, and I hope to return again and again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S88rqmAJJHI/AAAAAAAAAaI/qMiKNuiNtfc/s1600/Nauvoo+Temple.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 346px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462632883779347570" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S88rqmAJJHI/AAAAAAAAAaI/qMiKNuiNtfc/s400/Nauvoo+Temple.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;3. Israel&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Who cannot love Israel? There are so many sites that bring the scriptures to life and bring the spirit of Biblical times into your heart. This is another country I would visit over and over. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A most sacred site is the Garden Tomb in Jerusalem, where many people (LDS prophets included) believe Christ's body was laid and from where he rose from the dead. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S88rWabvIlI/AAAAAAAAAaA/uR-Oz_Wiy8M/s1600/Garden+Tomb.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462632537076474450" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S88rWabvIlI/AAAAAAAAAaA/uR-Oz_Wiy8M/s400/Garden+Tomb.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;2. Lake Powell&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Our family went to Lake Powell every summer from 1984 to 2004 (well, one summer we missed it due to Donovan's sporting schedule). Some of our fondest memories are of vacations there, and I am not sure that our children will ever forgive us for selling out houseboat share. Were I to offer to take them there tomorrow, they would all drop everything they are doing and immediately join us. Hopefully, we can return again to share more times together. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S88q3B2Hr5I/AAAAAAAAAZ4/eucTIswz8Yw/s1600/Lake+Powell+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462631997900304274" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S88q3B2Hr5I/AAAAAAAAAZ4/eucTIswz8Yw/s400/Lake+Powell+2.jpg" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;1. Lott Home--Newberry, Florida&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Donovan and Janae are the only family we have that presently don't live in Utah. It is always a pleasure to visit them in their home, near Gainsville, and spend time with their family. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S88qpIn6bXI/AAAAAAAAAZw/JILzmmopgDM/s1600/IMG_0593.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462631759201594738" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S88qpIn6bXI/AAAAAAAAAZw/JILzmmopgDM/s400/IMG_0593.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-3757143577222578007?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/3757143577222578007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=3757143577222578007' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/3757143577222578007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/3757143577222578007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2010/04/ten-for-tuesday-on-wednesday.html' title='Ten for Tuesday--on Wednesday'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S88tTdeQGdI/AAAAAAAAAa4/3rWVFvPn4ho/s72-c/Tikal.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-6856943889829825673</id><published>2010-04-16T12:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-16T12:10:46.916-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Flashback Comparison</title><content type='html'>Because I didn't post a "Ten for Tuesday" list, I am going to post today.  Below are two pictures.  The first one is my senior picture.  The second one is a picture Kristen (my oldest daughter) did of herself one day when she found a site that allowed her to place her picture in settings from the "Olden Days."  Tell me what you think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S8i1XNyQUWI/AAAAAAAAAZA/gEbfmS8UypE/s1600/IMG004.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 262px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460813958628790626" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S8i1XNyQUWI/AAAAAAAAAZA/gEbfmS8UypE/s320/IMG004.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S8i1Iw69EqI/AAAAAAAAAY4/Tr_pGv1xVWs/s1600/myYearbookPhoto.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 225px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460813710362481314" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S8i1Iw69EqI/AAAAAAAAAY4/Tr_pGv1xVWs/s320/myYearbookPhoto.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am sure she is going to love the fact that I put these pictures together on my blog.  But, hey! Since she usually controls my bloggings anyway, what can I say?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;P.S.  I am sure she's glad she didn't really have to wear those glasses.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-6856943889829825673?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/6856943889829825673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=6856943889829825673' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/6856943889829825673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/6856943889829825673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2010/04/flashback-comparison_16.html' title='Flashback Comparison'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S8i1XNyQUWI/AAAAAAAAAZA/gEbfmS8UypE/s72-c/IMG004.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-5515272639461111648</id><published>2010-04-06T10:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-06T10:08:47.447-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ten Words People Use to Describe Me</title><content type='html'>Hmmm--I can probably think of more than ten, and some of them might not be appropriate to put on a public blog page. So, in no particular order, I will do the best I can:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1: #@!&amp;amp;*)#@&amp;amp;!&lt;br /&gt;2: Kind&lt;br /&gt;3: Dependable&lt;br /&gt;4: Loving&lt;br /&gt;5: Overindulgent&lt;br /&gt;6: Musical&lt;br /&gt;7: Funny&lt;br /&gt;8: Spiritual&lt;br /&gt;9: Lazy&lt;br /&gt;10: Hardworking&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know the last two are in direct opposition to each other, but sometimes it depends on my mood as to how I handle what needs to be done.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-5515272639461111648?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/5515272639461111648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=5515272639461111648' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/5515272639461111648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/5515272639461111648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2010/04/ten-words-people-use-to-describe-me.html' title='Ten Words People Use to Describe Me'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-1522224045936630083</id><published>2010-04-05T19:14:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-05T19:16:12.796-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You really thought....</title><content type='html'>that you were in charge of your blog mom?  I think not!  Remember I'm a freaking rockstar...it says so on your sidebar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S7qZP55rrNI/AAAAAAAAAWw/XZ1choyBmds/s1600/april+2010+090.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456842397032623314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S7qZP55rrNI/AAAAAAAAAWw/XZ1choyBmds/s320/april+2010+090.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-1522224045936630083?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/1522224045936630083/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=1522224045936630083' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/1522224045936630083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/1522224045936630083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2010/04/you-really-thought.html' title='You really thought....'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S7qZP55rrNI/AAAAAAAAAWw/XZ1choyBmds/s72-c/april+2010+090.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-450968374656391460</id><published>2010-03-30T07:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-30T07:53:38.705-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ten Things I love About Spring</title><content type='html'>Visitors to my blog will notice that I still have a Christmas border.  I am just waiting to see when one of my daughters becomes aware that I have made a couple of new postings.  Then they can help me put up a new border.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the meantime, here are ten things I love about spring.  They are in no particular order, except for the last one.  It is my very favorite and the best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ten things I love about spring:&lt;br /&gt;1.  Birds chirping early in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;2.  April Showers&lt;br /&gt;3.  Tuplips and daffodils in bloom and the flowers on the fruit trees.&lt;br /&gt;4.  Lawns turning green.&lt;br /&gt;5.  Lengthening of the days.&lt;br /&gt;6.  Laughter of children, who have been cooped up all winter, playing in the street.&lt;br /&gt;7.  Jet streams criss-crossing across the sky.&lt;br /&gt;8.  Spring plowing and the aroma of freshly turned earth.&lt;br /&gt;9.  Birthdays of some of my favorite people.&lt;br /&gt;10.  Easter--the gift of the resurrection, the knowledge we can return to our Heavenly Father's presence, and the promised blessing of Eternal Families.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S7INCFTeyNI/AAAAAAAAAWo/gaZ_V05Yn_o/s1600/ArtBook__066_066__TheSecondComing____%5B1%5D_edited.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 241px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454436428133877970" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S7INCFTeyNI/AAAAAAAAAWo/gaZ_V05Yn_o/s320/ArtBook__066_066__TheSecondComing____%5B1%5D_edited.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-450968374656391460?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/450968374656391460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=450968374656391460' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/450968374656391460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/450968374656391460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2010/03/ten-things-i-love-about-spring.html' title='Ten Things I love About Spring'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S7INCFTeyNI/AAAAAAAAAWo/gaZ_V05Yn_o/s72-c/ArtBook__066_066__TheSecondComing____%5B1%5D_edited.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-8341678873854110620</id><published>2010-03-23T09:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-23T09:32:02.868-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Winter's End</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My friend, Jan, is very aware that I haven't posted for a long time, so she send me a suggested list to post. It is below. I am really most curious to see how many people still check my blog to see if there is ever a new posting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This week's suggestion was to post 10 things that I will or won't miss about winter. Unlike many others, I enjoy much about the winter season, so my post is:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ten Things I Will Miss About Winter.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. Waiting for Christmas&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Waiting for the first snow.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Watching big, fluffy snowflakes come flying through the air.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Seeing the trees and street become a winter wonderland.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451866143701877730" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S6jrX1pUQ-I/AAAAAAAAAWg/xgeikiVgYlU/s320/2-19-2008013.jpg" /&gt; &lt;div&gt;5. Watching children making snowmen and snow angels, or seeing what other creations &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;    talented neighbors can carve out of snow:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S6jqBDiFq5I/AAAAAAAAAWQ/cwbMTchbVos/s1600-h/IMG_0920.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451864652781038482" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S6jqBDiFq5I/AAAAAAAAAWQ/cwbMTchbVos/s200/IMG_0920.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S6jqaMnnNbI/AAAAAAAAAWY/kYGPnT6NZtE/s1600-h/IMG_0921.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 145px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451865084716856754" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S6jqaMnnNbI/AAAAAAAAAWY/kYGPnT6NZtE/s200/IMG_0921.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;6. Throwing snowballs.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;7. Observing Mt. Timpanogos blanketed in the snow--in the sunlight, in the sunset, in the&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;    moonlight.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;8. Walking in the snow and hearing it crunch beneath my feet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;9.  Seeing icicles on the eaves and frost covering the branches of the trees.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;10. Staying in bed a bit longer and enjoying the warmth of my blankets.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;These are just a few of my favorite things about winter.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-8341678873854110620?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/8341678873854110620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=8341678873854110620' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/8341678873854110620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/8341678873854110620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2010/03/winters-end.html' title='Winter&apos;s End'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/S6jrX1pUQ-I/AAAAAAAAAWg/xgeikiVgYlU/s72-c/2-19-2008013.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-1890167358936322591</id><published>2009-11-22T18:49:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-22T18:53:39.053-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Holy Cow</title><content type='html'>Really mom....It's been almost a year since I wrote your last post.  So for anyone who even follows your blog I'm going to give a little update.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wayne and Anne are getting ready to leave to Florida to visit Donovan and Janae for Thanksgiving.  Those grandkids are super cool.  I'm sure that while they are there Wayne will have a "to do" list and Anne will be shopping with Janae.  Karen and Kristen are jealous of the shopping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anne has become a babysitter to Meggy Boo.  She has taught Meg to make her bed, set the table and make cookies.  Fabulously good times. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Karen and Mike had another baby...4 months ago.    Her name is Emma.  Check out Karen's blog for details.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's a little update.  And since I (Kristen) will have a break over Christmas from work I'll update a little more.  I think I might even be the one who sends out Christmas cards for Wayne and Anne.  Watch for them in your mail.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-1890167358936322591?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/1890167358936322591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=1890167358936322591' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/1890167358936322591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/1890167358936322591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2009/11/holy-cow.html' title='Holy Cow'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-3284841833353066508</id><published>2008-12-12T18:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T18:16:42.551-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A little of this a little of that...</title><content type='html'>Kristen and the girls came and visited over Thanksgiving.  We had a fabulous time, especially because Kristen is like the coolest person ever.  When the grandkids get naughty we put them in the shower and take pictures.  It is quite effective to make them stop screaming.  Now when my kids were little they used to go into the shower just to scream with thier cousins at Grandma Callisters.  I believe that was called the "Screamage club"  Oh, the good times.  I think I will ask Kristen and Stacey to start that club up again.  I think Kristen would love it.  Good therapy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SUMZmT0AYuI/AAAAAAAAAWI/81goQPPHf_I/s1600-h/Dec+2008+052.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279091334152479458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SUMZmT0AYuI/AAAAAAAAAWI/81goQPPHf_I/s320/Dec+2008+052.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; When they get really bad we make them put their faces in books and imitate animals. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SUMZmJwb1jI/AAAAAAAAAWA/p0e0wdMGg-g/s1600-h/Dec+2008+060.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279091331453146674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SUMZmJwb1jI/AAAAAAAAAWA/p0e0wdMGg-g/s320/Dec+2008+060.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We went to the festival of trees and had a great time wandering around telling the kids to stop touching the trees.  They only pushed down one. &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SUMZl-UU5FI/AAAAAAAAAV4/f9VGw6uFj4I/s1600-h/Dec+2008+030.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279091328382461010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SUMZl-UU5FI/AAAAAAAAAV4/f9VGw6uFj4I/s320/Dec+2008+030.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Now, the other great thing that happened was Bryan brought over his Guitar hero.  I have a video of myself rocking out.  I will have to wait until Kristen comes again and puts it on my blog.  Until then just dream about it...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-3284841833353066508?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/3284841833353066508/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=3284841833353066508' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/3284841833353066508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/3284841833353066508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2008/12/little-of-this-little-of-that.html' title='A little of this a little of that...'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SUMZmT0AYuI/AAAAAAAAAWI/81goQPPHf_I/s72-c/Dec+2008+052.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-2352930831581937879</id><published>2008-11-21T08:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-21T12:42:57.900-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tagged--I'm It!</title><content type='html'>7 weird things about me:&lt;br /&gt;1. I can touch my nose with the end of my tongue.&lt;br /&gt;2. I can cross one eye--either one.&lt;br /&gt;3. I remember the serial number of the bicycle I received for Christmas the year I was in the second grade (N59833, in case you are interested).&lt;br /&gt;4. I gave up the opportunity to go on a trip to Africa to stay in Utah and be an adult leader at girls' camp.&lt;br /&gt;5. I missed my own college graduation because I didn't know I had met all the requirements.&lt;br /&gt;6. I don't like peanut butter.&lt;br /&gt;7. The first time I kissed my husband was over the altar in the temple the day we were married.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10 years ago&lt;br /&gt;1. I went on a trip to Israel and Jordan.&lt;br /&gt;2. I went snorkeling in the Red Sea.&lt;br /&gt;3. I attended a dinner in honor of my parents' 60th wedding anniversary.&lt;br /&gt;4. Two new grandchildren joined our family--Dreyton and Mattison.&lt;br /&gt;5. Our family had two graduations:  Karen from Timpanogos High School, and Donovan from Washington University's PT school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 things on my to do list&lt;br /&gt;1. Keep a better journal so that ten years from now I can remember what I did in 2008.&lt;br /&gt;2. Tie Jyllian's quilt (hopefully today).&lt;br /&gt;3. Get my Christmas shopping done.&lt;br /&gt;4. Make curtains for my kitchen.&lt;br /&gt;5. Re-do my bedroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Snacks I enjoy&lt;br /&gt;1. Homemade toffee.&lt;br /&gt;2. Mud pie.&lt;br /&gt;3. Buttered popcorn.&lt;br /&gt;4. Chocolate fudge Magic Shell over heavenly hash ice cream (or goo goo cluster, rocky road, burnt almond fudge, or any chocolate ice cream with nuts in it).&lt;br /&gt;5. Mrs. Cavanaugh's mint truffles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 things I would do if I was a millionaire&lt;br /&gt;1. Pay off, or at least partially pay off, my children's debts.&lt;br /&gt;2. Get a nice ski boat and house boat on Lake Powell for my children and grandchildren to enjoy.&lt;br /&gt;3. Buy a rambler home with the family room and laundry room on the main level so I wouldn't have to worry about stairs in my old age.&lt;br /&gt;4. Take my children to Israel.&lt;br /&gt;5. Set up trust accounts for my grandchildrens' college educations and missions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 places I have lived&lt;br /&gt;1. McDonaldville, Idaho&lt;br /&gt;2. Groveland, Idaho&lt;br /&gt;3. Provo, Utah&lt;br /&gt;4. St. Louis, Missouri&lt;br /&gt;5. Orem, Utah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 jobs I have had&lt;br /&gt;1. Potato picker&lt;br /&gt;2. Sugar beet thinner&lt;br /&gt;3. Cow milker&lt;br /&gt;4. Power sewing machine operator&lt;br /&gt;5. Piano teacher&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tag: Ruthanne, Brenda, and Melissa&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-2352930831581937879?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/2352930831581937879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=2352930831581937879' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/2352930831581937879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/2352930831581937879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2008/11/tagged-im-it.html' title='Tagged--I&apos;m It!'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-8216572875278885333</id><published>2008-11-14T09:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-14T09:31:30.421-08:00</updated><title type='text'>MOM AND DONOVAN</title><content type='html'>As you know, I was in Florida for a week following Donovan's surgery.  Janae has posted, on their blog, some pictures of him in the hospital and right after he came home.  I left to come home one week after his operation, and before I left, I wanted to get a picture of him with me.  So, here it is.  He hadn't felt like shaving, so he had quite a big of growth on his face when this picture was taken, but I didn't care.  I was just glad to see him smiling and up and about.  But, I do wonder if he was smiling because:&lt;br /&gt;    1.  He was feeling better.&lt;br /&gt;    2.  Janae and I were about to take the kids to a movie, leaving him  &lt;br /&gt;          alone in the house for several hours of quiet time.&lt;br /&gt;    3.  He was glad I was going home so I could quit nagging him about&lt;br /&gt;          being careful not to overdo it. &lt;br /&gt;Tell me what you think.  I'm sure he will!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SR20KQMek2I/AAAAAAAAAVw/e2LP-kIIpcw/s1600-h/IMG_1239.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268565227332342626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SR20KQMek2I/AAAAAAAAAVw/e2LP-kIIpcw/s320/IMG_1239.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-8216572875278885333?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/8216572875278885333/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=8216572875278885333' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/8216572875278885333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/8216572875278885333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2008/11/mom-and-donovan.html' title='MOM AND DONOVAN'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SR20KQMek2I/AAAAAAAAAVw/e2LP-kIIpcw/s72-c/IMG_1239.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-5991350947583416326</id><published>2008-11-09T11:22:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-09T11:31:04.959-08:00</updated><title type='text'>OLDEST</title><content type='html'>Okay, here is a new post from an OLD person.  Below is a photo of Wayne and me when we visited St. Augustine with Donovan's family.  In case you don't know it, St. Augustine is the oldest town in the U.S. (If I am wrong, I am sure Donovan will let us all know).  Wayne and I, being some of the oldest people whose blog you read, thought it would be appropriate for us to have our picture taken in front of this old school.&lt;br /&gt;     No, we didn't go to school here!  Some things in the world are even older than we are!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SRc5qMRFaPI/AAAAAAAAAVo/Q0aGNYZrz1U/s1600-h/IMG_1215.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266741686243256562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SRc5qMRFaPI/AAAAAAAAAVo/Q0aGNYZrz1U/s320/IMG_1215.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-5991350947583416326?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/5991350947583416326/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=5991350947583416326' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/5991350947583416326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/5991350947583416326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2008/11/oldest.html' title='OLDEST'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SRc5qMRFaPI/AAAAAAAAAVo/Q0aGNYZrz1U/s72-c/IMG_1215.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-1628565379821015894</id><published>2008-11-07T08:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-07T08:52:14.184-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Do you even check your blog mom?</title><content type='html'>Hey Mom,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know you are smart enough to make a new post as seen below.  So now we are asking you to try and do it again.  Tell a riddle, do a story, post a picture.  I know for a fact you are vacationing in Florida and should have some fabulous stories to share.  Please let us in on your witty use of word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Your kids and fellow bloggers&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-1628565379821015894?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/1628565379821015894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=1628565379821015894' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/1628565379821015894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/1628565379821015894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2008/11/do-you-even-check-your-blog-mom.html' title='Do you even check your blog mom?'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-2229219145912642337</id><published>2008-09-02T19:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-02T19:41:22.941-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer Snow</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Surprise! Here I am adding a new post--all by myself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Yesterday it rained and hailed, and this morning there was just a skiff of snow on the top of Mt. Timpanogos. I thought it looked so pretty that I wanted to share it with you. What do you think? Snow in the background and green trees and shrubs in the foreground. Don't we live in a marvelous world!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SL33JgZTFJI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/eBQrnGbPlgQ/s1600-h/IMG_1178.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241617284016051346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SL33JgZTFJI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/eBQrnGbPlgQ/s320/IMG_1178.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-2229219145912642337?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/2229219145912642337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=2229219145912642337' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/2229219145912642337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/2229219145912642337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2008/09/summer-snow.html' title='Summer Snow'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SL33JgZTFJI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/eBQrnGbPlgQ/s72-c/IMG_1178.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-4999501789513018113</id><published>2008-08-18T13:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-18T13:08:15.926-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Playing at the Park</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SKnWkkvAC3I/AAAAAAAAAQM/GxlItkvgLoo/s1600-h/July+2008+114.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235951965619358578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SKnWkkvAC3I/AAAAAAAAAQM/GxlItkvgLoo/s320/July+2008+114.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SKnWk3BPVRI/AAAAAAAAAQU/83k8iNZNwhU/s1600-h/July+2008+125.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235951970527696146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SKnWk3BPVRI/AAAAAAAAAQU/83k8iNZNwhU/s320/July+2008+125.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SKnWlSB6hZI/AAAAAAAAAQc/rXUr6AhTtqk/s1600-h/July+2008+133.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235951977778283922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SKnWlSB6hZI/AAAAAAAAAQc/rXUr6AhTtqk/s320/July+2008+133.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SKnWl94Yx9I/AAAAAAAAAQk/ZjdE2IAToN0/s1600-h/July+2008+124.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235951989549483986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SKnWl94Yx9I/AAAAAAAAAQk/ZjdE2IAToN0/s320/July+2008+124.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SKnWmY3IH7I/AAAAAAAAAQs/Xn4toXT1aNE/s1600-h/July+2008+123.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235951996791955378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SKnWmY3IH7I/AAAAAAAAAQs/Xn4toXT1aNE/s320/July+2008+123.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-4999501789513018113?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/4999501789513018113/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=4999501789513018113' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/4999501789513018113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/4999501789513018113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2008/08/playing-at-park.html' title='Playing at the Park'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SKnWkkvAC3I/AAAAAAAAAQM/GxlItkvgLoo/s72-c/July+2008+114.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-6155097427645593605</id><published>2008-08-18T12:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-18T13:02:59.941-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Better late than never</title><content type='html'>Here are some photos from the Stake Pioneer Days breakfast.  Wanye and I helped prepare it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SKnVLURsJOI/AAAAAAAAAP8/-UOu0gWtlLo/s1600-h/July+2008+219.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235950432193094882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SKnVLURsJOI/AAAAAAAAAP8/-UOu0gWtlLo/s320/July+2008+219.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SKnVMHsXUoI/AAAAAAAAAQE/Jxivvp3FBUc/s1600-h/July+2008+220.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235950445995184770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SKnVMHsXUoI/AAAAAAAAAQE/Jxivvp3FBUc/s320/July+2008+220.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-6155097427645593605?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/6155097427645593605/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=6155097427645593605' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/6155097427645593605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/6155097427645593605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2008/08/better-late-than-never.html' title='Better late than never'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SKnVLURsJOI/AAAAAAAAAP8/-UOu0gWtlLo/s72-c/July+2008+219.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-74185453121258406</id><published>2008-07-30T06:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-30T06:39:05.981-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Herbert Hardnarkle stories in the Tent, in the House</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SJBuz9tHqlI/AAAAAAAAAPA/G7v7pl9vzIA/s1600-h/Kristen+Summer+065.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228801006393338450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SJBuz9tHqlI/AAAAAAAAAPA/G7v7pl9vzIA/s320/Kristen+Summer+065.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SJBu32vWdCI/AAAAAAAAAPI/csLNm_nwREY/s1600-h/Kristen+Summer+066.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228801073243124770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SJBu32vWdCI/AAAAAAAAAPI/csLNm_nwREY/s320/Kristen+Summer+066.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SJBu4nFXL4I/AAAAAAAAAPQ/56Y0twqhG-E/s1600-h/Kristen+Summer+064.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228801086220349314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SJBu4nFXL4I/AAAAAAAAAPQ/56Y0twqhG-E/s320/Kristen+Summer+064.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-74185453121258406?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/74185453121258406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=74185453121258406' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/74185453121258406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/74185453121258406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2008/07/herbert-hardnarkle-stories-in-tent-in.html' title='Herbert Hardnarkle stories in the Tent, in the House'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SJBuz9tHqlI/AAAAAAAAAPA/G7v7pl9vzIA/s72-c/Kristen+Summer+065.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-1110535252971827988</id><published>2008-07-10T07:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-10T07:28:19.478-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Visiting</title><content type='html'>Kristen and Family came into town over the 4th of July and the Lott's from Florida arrived as well. On Saturday the kids were over playing and watching "The Goonies". It was great to have them all here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are Jyllian and Meg coloring with princess markers in a princess coloring book. This is the "before" picture--before they started fighting over princess stuff. Not to worry, an additional princess coloring book has been purchased.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SHYbjjcWWkI/AAAAAAAAAOo/GBJut6VxbY0/s1600-h/July+2008+041.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221391115606186562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SHYbjjcWWkI/AAAAAAAAAOo/GBJut6VxbY0/s320/July+2008+041.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Mattison and Jasmine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SHYbj57GlRI/AAAAAAAAAOw/6Y54TnD9Ec4/s1600-h/July+2008+042.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221391121640756498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SHYbj57GlRI/AAAAAAAAAOw/6Y54TnD9Ec4/s320/July+2008+042.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Dreyton really paying attention to the movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SHYbkd2_0qI/AAAAAAAAAO4/obkXVsJ3ZEU/s1600-h/July+2008+043.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221391131287212706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SHYbkd2_0qI/AAAAAAAAAO4/obkXVsJ3ZEU/s320/July+2008+043.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-1110535252971827988?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/1110535252971827988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=1110535252971827988' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/1110535252971827988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/1110535252971827988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2008/07/visiting.html' title='Visiting'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SHYbjjcWWkI/AAAAAAAAAOo/GBJut6VxbY0/s72-c/July+2008+041.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-9013218014363746832</id><published>2008-07-03T07:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-03T07:25:39.813-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Days are coming</title><content type='html'>The grandkids are arriving this weekend and Wayne and I are so excited to see them.  I mean how could you not love these kids?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SGzhJKyhWYI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/KWlD35NDc0I/s1600-h/Thanksgiving+051.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218793615846889858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SGzhJKyhWYI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/KWlD35NDc0I/s320/Thanksgiving+051.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SGzhJmPyUQI/AAAAAAAAAOY/8PrS_TLViPM/s1600-h/Thanksgiving+064.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218793623217393922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SGzhJmPyUQI/AAAAAAAAAOY/8PrS_TLViPM/s320/Thanksgiving+064.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SGzhKYT5eAI/AAAAAAAAAOg/7OAHE-KOpFs/s1600-h/Thanksgiving+059.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218793636656412674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SGzhKYT5eAI/AAAAAAAAAOg/7OAHE-KOpFs/s320/Thanksgiving+059.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-9013218014363746832?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/9013218014363746832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=9013218014363746832' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/9013218014363746832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/9013218014363746832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2008/07/happy-days-are-coming.html' title='Happy Days are coming'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SGzhJKyhWYI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/KWlD35NDc0I/s72-c/Thanksgiving+051.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-7273420122874346295</id><published>2008-06-20T10:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-20T10:30:14.323-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pictures from Our Trip to Las Vegas</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SFvm2hDPajI/AAAAAAAAAOA/5uWM6-lQycM/s1600-h/June+2008+004.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214014817870768690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SFvm2hDPajI/AAAAAAAAAOA/5uWM6-lQycM/s320/June+2008+004.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Here we are with Mattison after her dance recital. She thought the costume was really itchy. Do you like my new shirt? I got it at Kohls. I love shopping!  We have some major shopping trips planned when Kristen and Janae are in town in July.  Karen is so excited to go too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SFvm3Dw_lLI/AAAAAAAAAOI/NcsqhtXvQMI/s1600-h/June+2008+008.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214014827189474482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SFvm3Dw_lLI/AAAAAAAAAOI/NcsqhtXvQMI/s320/June+2008+008.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;For Father's Day Wayne got this really cool hat that has an LED light in it. Don't be surprised if you see him at the reunion or walking around the neighborhood with it. He loves it, especially since he helped pick it out. If you want one for yourself go to Kohls. There are great deals there all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, this is Kristen posting this using pictures from her camera. So all you other grandkids out there don't feel bad that there aren't pictures of you. Grandma has pictures on her camera she doesn't know how to download yet. If you want the code to break into her blog please contact me and you to can post pictures too. If not, I will be in Utah taking pictures with my camera and will look for opportunities to take pictures of grandchildren with Grandma and Grandpa as well. Then I can make exciting and creative posts for you ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-7273420122874346295?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/7273420122874346295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=7273420122874346295' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/7273420122874346295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/7273420122874346295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2008/06/pictures-from-our-trip-to-las-vegas.html' title='Pictures from Our Trip to Las Vegas'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SFvm2hDPajI/AAAAAAAAAOA/5uWM6-lQycM/s72-c/June+2008+004.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-7792642369062584810</id><published>2008-06-17T13:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-17T13:29:39.322-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Las Vegas Trip</title><content type='html'>Last week Wayne and I drove to Las Vegas. We made a quick stop in St. George on the way to visit with a donor to Continuing Education, then drove to Kristen's house. Saturday we all went to Mattison's dance concert. She did a great job!&lt;br /&gt;     After the dance concert, we drove down Las Vegas Boulevard to find something to eat. Amid a host of wedding chapels we found a Burger King. While we were eating, their resident artist decided to put my image down for posterity (Of course he wanted a tip for doing it--silly man, didn't he realize that Grandpa would have pulled out more green had the sketch been of the grandkids?)&lt;br /&gt;     Anyway, I am going to try to post the sketch. I hope you can make something out of it.  If you can't, then I guess it's true what they say--"What happens in Las Vegas stays in Las Vegas."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SFgeFnbF5MI/AAAAAAAAAN4/cCyU1y1pYPM/s1600-h/scan.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212949650512143554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SFgeFnbF5MI/AAAAAAAAAN4/cCyU1y1pYPM/s320/scan.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-7792642369062584810?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/7792642369062584810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=7792642369062584810' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/7792642369062584810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/7792642369062584810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2008/06/las-vegas-trip.html' title='Las Vegas Trip'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SFgeFnbF5MI/AAAAAAAAAN4/cCyU1y1pYPM/s72-c/scan.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-3927178722842017208</id><published>2008-06-11T16:21:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-12T20:12:17.887-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Father's Day</title><content type='html'>For Mother's Day, I put some pictures of my mom on to honor her. Now that it's nearly Father's Day, I would like to do the same for my dad. Here are a few of my favorites:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SFBe43_TbAI/AAAAAAAAANI/MyPCg3IXSMM/s1600-h/IMG070.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210769100062813186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SFBe43_TbAI/AAAAAAAAANI/MyPCg3IXSMM/s320/IMG070.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; My dad boxed in high school. He even won a state title: I think it was his senior year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SFBe5c53uzI/AAAAAAAAANQ/WJmaKYH0Zhk/s1600-h/IMG036.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210769109972138802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SFBe5c53uzI/AAAAAAAAANQ/WJmaKYH0Zhk/s320/IMG036.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; As a young man, he enrolled at Ricks College. That's where he met my mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SFBe5roo-QI/AAAAAAAAANY/phwaXYE9Cok/s1600-h/IMG037.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210769113926400258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SFBe5roo-QI/AAAAAAAAANY/phwaXYE9Cok/s320/IMG037.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;After Ricks, he enrolled at the University of Utah, where he had a basketball scholarship. He also ran the hurdles for their track team and lettered in both sports. After graduation he took a job as a school teacher. Doesn't he look the part?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SFBe6CAp2YI/AAAAAAAAANg/z_POzPDBEi8/s1600-h/IMG014.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210769119932701058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SFBe6CAp2YI/AAAAAAAAANg/z_POzPDBEi8/s320/IMG014.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;He was drafted into the Army during WWII and served in the Phillipines. Above is a picture of him about the time he went overseas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SFBe6fWlWQI/AAAAAAAAANo/W5O6LgXcMm0/s1600-h/IMG031.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210769127809308930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SFBe6fWlWQI/AAAAAAAAANo/W5O6LgXcMm0/s320/IMG031.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Dad taught at Blackfoot High School for several years. This picture was taken during that time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Dad will be 90 years old in August. We all love him and feel blessed that he's our dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-3927178722842017208?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/3927178722842017208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=3927178722842017208' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/3927178722842017208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/3927178722842017208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2008/06/fathers-day.html' title='Father&apos;s Day'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SFBe43_TbAI/AAAAAAAAANI/MyPCg3IXSMM/s72-c/IMG070.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-5530812142318002626</id><published>2008-05-23T15:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-23T16:11:22.855-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Names of my classmates</title><content type='html'>I know that most of you won't know these people anyway, but you might recognize a name or two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Front row--left to right:  Cheryl Whittle, Ilene Capson, Adele Owens, Anne Callister, Annette Hale, Vicki Jose, Norma Brown, Sandra Lilya, Ranae Harris.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second Row:  Sammy Harper, LeRoy Whittle, Steve Mecham (married to cousin Martha), Janet Salisbury, Dan Hale, Jay Lynn Park, Lee Ann Lilya, Jimmy Bales&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Third Row:  Mr. Westover (teacher and school principal), Barry Perks, Ricky Jackman, Victor Kmetz, Nils Harris, David Archibald, Lee Baily (brother of Becky), Ralph Johnson, Ken Wixom, Bobby Bergman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was only one class of each grade in our school. &lt;br /&gt;Fifteen of these kids started first grade (no kindergarten) with me and went through all six years of school.  We did have some others drop out because they were held back, and we picked up two or three that started in the class ahead of us and then were held back so they were in our class. There were a couple of move-ins and move-outs along the way, but not many.   Twenty-one of the students in my sixth grade class graduated with me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-5530812142318002626?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/5530812142318002626/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=5530812142318002626' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/5530812142318002626'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/5530812142318002626'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2008/05/names-of-my-classmates.html' title='Names of my classmates'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-3186943653854086975</id><published>2008-05-21T19:02:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-21T19:06:22.921-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Flashback</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;     Two weeks ago, Kristen put her sixth grade picture for all of you to see.  I thought it was so much fun that I decided I would put &lt;strong&gt;my&lt;/strong&gt; sixth grade picture up, too.  Can anyone besides Grace identify any people in this picture?  And, Grace, how many can you identify?  I will put the names in a blog in about two days to give you time to enjoy this wonderful photo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SDTUYVjv5uI/AAAAAAAAANA/LivHIczZBd8/s1600-h/Anne-6th+grade.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5203016984088798946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SDTUYVjv5uI/AAAAAAAAANA/LivHIczZBd8/s400/Anne-6th+grade.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-3186943653854086975?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/3186943653854086975/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=3186943653854086975' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/3186943653854086975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/3186943653854086975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2008/05/another-flashback.html' title='Another Flashback'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SDTUYVjv5uI/AAAAAAAAANA/LivHIczZBd8/s72-c/Anne-6th+grade.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-8487908936538002183</id><published>2008-05-09T08:50:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-09T09:02:10.890-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Flashback Friday--Mother's Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Because it's Mother's Day on Sunday, I thought I would put some pictures of MY mother on my blog.  And, because I know that most of the people who check my blog also share the same mother, or have her as a grandmother, I thought you might find the pictures fun to see.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SCRzthsQ9pI/AAAAAAAAAMg/Tv1yWy0QkiI/s1600-h/IMG055.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198407095867733650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SCRzthsQ9pI/AAAAAAAAAMg/Tv1yWy0QkiI/s320/IMG055.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;Margaret Smith (Mother) as a young child&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SCRzuBsQ9qI/AAAAAAAAAMo/5UN2gTRv6Q8/s1600-h/IMG074.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198407104457668258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SCRzuBsQ9qI/AAAAAAAAAMo/5UN2gTRv6Q8/s320/IMG074.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;Mom and her brother, Charles, in a goat cart.  You can tell by reading the date on the cart that this was taken in 1924.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SCRzuhsQ9rI/AAAAAAAAAMw/GMGE3TPIZL0/s1600-h/IMG056.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198407113047602866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SCRzuhsQ9rI/AAAAAAAAAMw/GMGE3TPIZL0/s320/IMG056.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;Mother was in her late teens when this was taken, but I don't know if she was still in high school or at Ricks College.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SCRzuxsQ9sI/AAAAAAAAAM4/UyTkw-vclqA/s1600-h/IMG067.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198407117342570178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SCRzuxsQ9sI/AAAAAAAAAM4/UyTkw-vclqA/s320/IMG067.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;Mother in her formal in front of a lilac tree.  This one is about everyone's favorite picture.  The original, shown above, has a tear in the skirt.  &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Happy Mother's Day to all you mothers out there!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-8487908936538002183?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/8487908936538002183/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=8487908936538002183' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/8487908936538002183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/8487908936538002183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2008/05/flashback-friday-mothers-day.html' title='Flashback Friday--Mother&apos;s Day'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SCRzthsQ9pI/AAAAAAAAAMg/Tv1yWy0QkiI/s72-c/IMG055.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-2685424990266945200</id><published>2008-05-07T10:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T15:37:20.014-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A New Post From ME</title><content type='html'>Thank you, Kristen, for keeping my blogspot cute, and for encouraging me to update it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did get an email from my friend, Jan Hawkes. In it, she said I was tagged and should put the answers on my blog. So here goes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You've Been Tagged--What's your alias?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. My rock star name (first pet and current car): &lt;em&gt;Spot LeSabre&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. My gangsta name (favorite ice cream flavor and favorite cookie):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Burnt Almond Fudge Chocolate Chip&lt;/em&gt; (This would have been much&lt;br /&gt;simpler if my answer had been &lt;em&gt;Strawberry Oreo&lt;/em&gt;, but it wasn't.)&lt;br /&gt;3. My "fly girl" name (first initial of first name and last 3 letters of last&lt;br /&gt;name): &lt;em&gt;A Ott&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. My detective name (favorite color and animal): &lt;em&gt;Maroon Sheltie&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. My soap opera name (middle name and city where you were born);&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Zilch Blackfoot&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. My Star Wars name (first 3 letters of your last name and first 2 letters&lt;br /&gt;of your first name): &lt;em&gt;Lotan&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. My superhero name (2nd favorite color and favorite drink with "the"&lt;br /&gt;in between): &lt;em&gt;Hunter the Milk&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. My nascar name (first names of your grandfathers): &lt;em&gt;Orson Charles&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Lounge singer name (name of your favorite perfume/cologne and&lt;br /&gt;your favorite candy): &lt;em&gt;Blue Waltz Toffee&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. My witness-protection name (mother's and father's middle names):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nada Jones&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm. I can see here that having no middle name, a very short name, and not wearing perfume and/or cologne can put one to a very distinct disadvantage Perhaps the people I tag will do better. I don't know how many I am supposed to tag, but I will choose three: GRACE, JULIE, CATHERINE. (Don't feel bad if I didn't choose you--I am sure your turn will come.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-2685424990266945200?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/2685424990266945200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=2685424990266945200' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/2685424990266945200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/2685424990266945200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2008/05/new-post-from-me.html' title='A New Post From ME'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-1499651750649966825</id><published>2008-05-04T08:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-04T08:15:35.275-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's been awhile Mom</title><content type='html'>It has been over 2 weeks since we have seen a post from you Mom.  We know you know how to take pictures as shown by the photo below.  We also know you know how to post pictures and now even how to scan them.  Let's not mention the fact that you did graduate from BYU with a degree in English, so we know you know how to write.  Now because you can do all these things, please surprise us with a witty little post for our enjoyment. &lt;br /&gt;Sincerely,&lt;br /&gt;Your blogging children&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SB3ScJKHoaI/AAAAAAAAALY/rRNcubkqOg8/s1600-h/Thanksgiving+033.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196540925991952802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SB3ScJKHoaI/AAAAAAAAALY/rRNcubkqOg8/s320/Thanksgiving+033.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-1499651750649966825?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/1499651750649966825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=1499651750649966825' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/1499651750649966825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/1499651750649966825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2008/05/its-been-awhile-mom.html' title='It&apos;s been awhile Mom'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SB3ScJKHoaI/AAAAAAAAALY/rRNcubkqOg8/s72-c/Thanksgiving+033.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-2415896228458016648</id><published>2008-04-17T20:39:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-17T20:50:22.330-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Flashback Friday Fablette</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;FRIENDLY FEMALE&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Fancy Free&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Farmgirl&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Funloving&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Foxy (?)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SAgYo4r8JxI/AAAAAAAAAK4/HCKIZYjI0vc/s1600-h/IMG003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190425661235013394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SAgYo4r8JxI/AAAAAAAAAK4/HCKIZYjI0vc/s320/IMG003.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; finds&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;FINE FELLOW&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Fascinating&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Fabulous&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Fearless&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Faithful&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SAgYo4r8JyI/AAAAAAAAALA/JbrrVU5vMF8/s1600-h/wedding_001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190425661235013410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SAgYo4r8JyI/AAAAAAAAALA/JbrrVU5vMF8/s320/wedding_001.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Friendship First.  Frequent fun.  Frivolity.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;     Feelings flare.  Flirt, flatter.  Fears?  Flutter, Fizz.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;          Frustrations.  Flowers!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;                Feelings Flare--&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;FIANCE FOUND!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Felicitations!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Future Finally Fulfilled&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;FAMILY&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SAgYpIr8JzI/AAAAAAAAALI/ph7i7O0D_QY/s1600-h/wedding_002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190425665529980722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SAgYpIr8JzI/AAAAAAAAALI/ph7i7O0D_QY/s320/wedding_002.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;(Final Funny Foto-----)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SAgYpYr8J0I/AAAAAAAAALQ/0SNhzdUjtDA/s1600-h/wedding_003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190425669824948034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SAgYpYr8J0I/AAAAAAAAALQ/0SNhzdUjtDA/s320/wedding_003.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-2415896228458016648?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/2415896228458016648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=2415896228458016648' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/2415896228458016648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/2415896228458016648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2008/04/flashback-friday-fablette.html' title='Flashback Friday Fablette'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SAgYo4r8JxI/AAAAAAAAAK4/HCKIZYjI0vc/s72-c/IMG003.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-2928480304923942255</id><published>2008-04-13T17:40:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-13T17:47:49.848-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fun with the Grandkids</title><content type='html'>While Kristen and her kids were up visiting we went up to the Bean Museam.  Here are the kids posing with the wild lions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SAKpHor8JZI/AAAAAAAAAHc/JR2S3PZqHKI/s1600-h/april+2008+014.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188895669330126226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SAKpHor8JZI/AAAAAAAAAHc/JR2S3PZqHKI/s320/april+2008+014.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Here are the kids and Grandpa acting like wild animals.  See the "grrrr" faces they are making.  It is almost like you are in Africa isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SAKpH4r8JaI/AAAAAAAAAHk/e7Lcjv311Vc/s1600-h/april+2008+048.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188895673625093538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SAKpH4r8JaI/AAAAAAAAAHk/e7Lcjv311Vc/s320/april+2008+048.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Mattison loves to help cook.  Of course all the other grandkids had to get in on the action too.  We are making meatballs, Mattison's favorite.  I think I will do a cooking class for the grandkids this summer while they are all here visiting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SAKpIIr8JbI/AAAAAAAAAHs/0c7DNUwJ63k/s1600-h/april+2008+026.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188895677920060850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SAKpIIr8JbI/AAAAAAAAAHs/0c7DNUwJ63k/s320/april+2008+026.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SAKonIr8JWI/AAAAAAAAAHE/dj9GrBVytyg/s1600-h/april+2008+048.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SAKonYr8JXI/AAAAAAAAAHM/HmWV2ACQ1vA/s1600-h/april+2008+014.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SAKon4r8JYI/AAAAAAAAAHU/sUo6edYFHpM/s1600-h/april+2008+026.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-2928480304923942255?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/2928480304923942255/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=2928480304923942255' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/2928480304923942255'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/2928480304923942255'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2008/04/fun-with-grandkids.html' title='Fun with the Grandkids'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/SAKpHor8JZI/AAAAAAAAAHc/JR2S3PZqHKI/s72-c/april+2008+014.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-1363712304569479750</id><published>2008-04-03T14:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-03T15:15:39.214-07:00</updated><title type='text'>100 Things About Me</title><content type='html'>1.  I have no middle name.&lt;br /&gt;2.  I have been married for 40+ years.&lt;br /&gt;3.  I have four children who think they are perfect and one who really, truly is.&lt;br /&gt;4.  I was married five years before the Lord let me have children.&lt;br /&gt;5.  I used to milk cows with my dad.&lt;br /&gt;6.  I used to haul hay with my dad and sisters.&lt;br /&gt;7.  I raised pigs to pay for my first year's tuition at BYU.&lt;br /&gt;8.  I was on a debate team in high school, and my senior year we placed in region and got to go to state tournament.&lt;br /&gt;9.  I was almost 26 years old before I ever saw the ocean.&lt;br /&gt;10.  I didn't graduate from college until I was 53 years old.&lt;br /&gt;11.  I missed my college graduation because I didn't think the results of my last class had been reported in time for August graduation.&lt;br /&gt;12.  I had my nephew, Steven, tutor me in math to so I could fill my college math requirement.&lt;br /&gt;13.  I took piano lessons for 10 years.&lt;br /&gt;14.  I taught piano lessons for 4 years.&lt;br /&gt;15.  I play the organ in church.&lt;br /&gt;16.  I learned to play the foot pedals because my bishop challenged me to do it.&lt;br /&gt;17.  I lost a hat in the Nile River in Egypt.&lt;br /&gt;18.  I was once held hostage on a bus in Moscow, Russia.  (Well, the whole bus was held hostage until the bus driver was paid an additional $50.00.&lt;br /&gt;19.  I have walked through Hezekiah's tunnel in Jerusalem (twice!).&lt;br /&gt;20.  I sat through the Passion Play in Oberammergou, Germany for the whole 6 1/2 hours of the performance.  (Well, we did get a one hour break in the middle.)&lt;br /&gt;21.  I enjoyed the performance and would do it again.&lt;br /&gt;22.  I shared a kiss with Wayne on our first date.&lt;br /&gt;23.  I once slapped Wayne because he had kissed another girl the night before (no, we weren't married at the time).&lt;br /&gt;24.  I earned just over $19.00 picking potatoes when I was in the third grade and bought my own lunch box with some of the money.&lt;br /&gt;25.  I carried that lunch box until I was in Jr. High and convinced my mom to use paper bags.&lt;br /&gt;26.  I earned the Primary &lt;em&gt;Gospel In Action&lt;/em&gt; award when I was the stake primary president.&lt;br /&gt;27.  I earned my YW Recognition Award when I was a YW leader &lt;em&gt;after&lt;/em&gt; Kristen was no longer in YW.&lt;br /&gt;28.  I was in the all-church dance festival in Salt Lake City when I was 16 years old.&lt;br /&gt;29.  I once sang in a youth chorus in the Salt Lake Tabernacle when President David O. McKay was present in the meeting.&lt;br /&gt;30.  I once backed our family car into a manure spreader.&lt;br /&gt;31.  I used to drive past boys' houses when I was in high school.&lt;br /&gt;32.  I used to drive past boys' houses with my daughters when they were in jr. high and high school.&lt;br /&gt;33.  I learned to water ski on the Lake of the Ozarks in Missouri.&lt;br /&gt;34.  I enjoy walking early in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;35.  One of my favorite early morning walks was when I was in Nauvoo.  I walked from our hotel down to old Nauvoo and down Parley Street to the Mississippi River.&lt;br /&gt;36.  I love fudge from the Nauvoo Fudge Factory.  Yumm Yumm.&lt;br /&gt;37.  I used to give humorous readings when I was in jr. high and high school.&lt;br /&gt;38.  I once gave a reading at a Future Farmers of America banquet.&lt;br /&gt;39.  I went on my first date when I was only 13.&lt;br /&gt;40.  I got stitches in my back when I fell through the window in the door between our kitchen and the porch of our house before it was remodeled.&lt;br /&gt;41.  I got stitches in my head when I jumped out of a pickup.&lt;br /&gt;42.  My mom always said I was toilet trained by the time I was 18 months old.&lt;br /&gt;43.  There was no bathroom in the house where I was born, that's probably why. &lt;br /&gt;44.  I used to take baths in the barn--where there was hot water.&lt;br /&gt;45.  I earned six Individual Awards as a Young Woman and earned an award for that.&lt;br /&gt;46.  I used to ice skate on our front lawn.&lt;br /&gt;47.  My mom used to freeze water on our lawn to make the ice skating rink.&lt;br /&gt;48.  I once went skinny dipping with my friend, Annette, on the last day of school.&lt;br /&gt;49.  I got a driver's license when I was only 14.&lt;br /&gt;50.  I received 100% on my driver's license exam.&lt;br /&gt;51.  I was first attracted to Wayne because of his dimples.&lt;br /&gt;52.  I also liked the fact that he had (and still has) brown eyes.&lt;br /&gt;53.  I was PTA president at the high school when Bryan was a junior.&lt;br /&gt;54.  I enjoyed playing volleyball and softball when I was a YW.&lt;br /&gt;55.  The coach used to put me in left field because I was about the only one who could throw the ball back into the infield.&lt;br /&gt;56.  I later became a pitcher and first baseman.&lt;br /&gt;57.  I was a YW dance director when I was 16 years old.&lt;br /&gt;58.  I used to go fishing with my dad, brothers, and grandfather on opening day every year.&lt;br /&gt;59.  For my tenth birthday I asked for, and received, a fishing pole.&lt;br /&gt;60.  My bedroom caught fire when I was a sophomore in high school.&lt;br /&gt;61.  My friends threw me a "shower" so I could receive new clothes.&lt;br /&gt;62.  The RS president got me two new pairs of shoes from the Bishop's storehouse.&lt;br /&gt;63.  My first airplane flight was from SLC to Rapid City, South Dakota when I was 21 years old.&lt;br /&gt;64.  I stayed up to watch the live TV coverage of man's first moonwalk.&lt;br /&gt;65.  The first president I was eligible to vote for was Richard M. Nixon.&lt;br /&gt;66.  I was a junior in high school when President Kennedy was shot.&lt;br /&gt;67.  My dad was a bishop for ten years.&lt;br /&gt;68.  My husband was a bishop for five years.&lt;br /&gt;69.  I like mashed potatoes and good brown gravy.&lt;br /&gt;70.  I like baked potatoes, too.&lt;br /&gt;71.  I like chocolate--chocolate candy, chocolate cake, and chocolate ice cream.&lt;br /&gt;72.  I make homemade rolls almost every Sunday.&lt;br /&gt;73.  I have read the Book of Mormon in Spanish three times.&lt;br /&gt;74.  My biggest baby weighed 10 lbs. 13 oz. &lt;br /&gt;75.  I hemorrhaged when he was born and recived eight pints of blood in less than four hours, followed by more than 20 pints of blood later.&lt;br /&gt;76.  My kidneys quit working and I had to have three dialysis treatments.&lt;br /&gt;77.  I am the tallest of the sisters in my family.&lt;br /&gt;78.  Believe it or not, I have a higher IQ than my husband.&lt;br /&gt;79.  I enjoy crocheting, knitting, and doing counted cross stitch.&lt;br /&gt;80.  I especially enjoy reading.&lt;br /&gt;81.  I make up stories to tell my grandchildren.&lt;br /&gt;82.  There was a time when I swam over a half mile every morning.&lt;br /&gt;83.  I have two pianos.&lt;br /&gt;84.  I am afraid of snakes.&lt;br /&gt;85.  All of my grandchildren have brown eyes.&lt;br /&gt;86.  I have never had my ears pierced.&lt;br /&gt;87.  I would like to climb Mt. Timpanogos.&lt;br /&gt;88.  I used to save pennies.  One year I gave them to my mom to buy some new silverware for Christmas--she gave me a piggy bank for my pennies.&lt;br /&gt;89.  One year a bear almost crawled into my open door of the car I was sitting in while I was visiting Yellowstone Park.&lt;br /&gt;90.  I used to put curlers in my Grandmother Callister's hair, and, when her hair was dry, comb it out.&lt;br /&gt;91.  My Aunt Francella was my second grade teacher.&lt;br /&gt;92.  None of my siblings attended jr. high or high school with me.&lt;br /&gt;93.  I had a class with my brother, Lee, while attending BYU.  Neither of us knew it until we walked into class the first day.&lt;br /&gt;94.  My locker combination when I was a sophomore was 34-24-34.  Can you guess why I have never forgotten it?&lt;br /&gt;95.  The serial number of the bicycle I received when I was in the third grade was N59833--I don't know why I have remembered that.&lt;br /&gt;96.  Mrs. Johnson, our high school secretary, saved locker #1 so it would be mine when I was a senior in high school.&lt;br /&gt;97.  I have was always been proud to be a Callister&lt;br /&gt;98.  I love my children and grandchildren.&lt;br /&gt;99.  I love my husband.&lt;br /&gt;100.  I have a testimony of the divinity of Jesus Christ and am looking forward to someday returning to his presence.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-1363712304569479750?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/1363712304569479750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=1363712304569479750' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/1363712304569479750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/1363712304569479750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2008/04/100-things-about-me.html' title='100 Things About Me'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-6531806775886588673</id><published>2008-03-28T09:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-28T09:59:31.119-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Flashback Friday--</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R-0jIB8IBAI/AAAAAAAAAGs/lmSRq2KCrHk/s1600-h/IMG004.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182837367039853570" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R-0jIB8IBAI/AAAAAAAAAGs/lmSRq2KCrHk/s200/IMG004.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R-0jIh8IBBI/AAAAAAAAAG0/ribWyeUUKyA/s1600-h/IMG001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182837375629788178" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R-0jIh8IBBI/AAAAAAAAAG0/ribWyeUUKyA/s200/IMG001.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R-0jJB8IBCI/AAAAAAAAAG8/FOl8SnpK8Aw/s1600-h/IMG019.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182837384219722786" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R-0jJB8IBCI/AAAAAAAAAG8/FOl8SnpK8Aw/s200/IMG019.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have one more set of pictures of "the girls" to post for you to look at. These are pictures taken of us our senior year in high school. I don't think anyone will have a hard time figuring our who is who.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I don't know why Lois' picture is sepia.  Actually, I don't think this is her senior picture--I think it is one that was taken later.  Right, Lois?  Grace's picture was probably taken with color film, but mine was taken in black and white and then had the color added later.  Don't you just love my hair?  And my glasses are also choice, right?  Ah, those were the good old days!(?)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-6531806775886588673?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/6531806775886588673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=6531806775886588673' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/6531806775886588673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/6531806775886588673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2008/03/another-flashback-friday.html' title='Another Flashback Friday--'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R-0jIB8IBAI/AAAAAAAAAGs/lmSRq2KCrHk/s72-c/IMG004.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-2755562943592038651</id><published>2008-03-23T15:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-23T15:15:06.572-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R-bWaR8IA_I/AAAAAAAAAGk/JrtLAgRJe64/s1600-h/march+2008+030.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" style="CLEAR: both; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R-bWaR8IA_I/AAAAAAAAAGk/JrtLAgRJe64/s320/march+2008+030.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style='clear:both; text-align:LEFT'&gt;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-2755562943592038651?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/2755562943592038651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=2755562943592038651' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/2755562943592038651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/2755562943592038651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2008/03/blog-post_23.html' title=''/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R-bWaR8IA_I/AAAAAAAAAGk/JrtLAgRJe64/s72-c/march+2008+030.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-4532449158738206601</id><published>2008-03-14T06:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-14T06:32:26.580-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Flashback Friday--w-a-y  b-a-c-k!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R9p8V2JCHGI/AAAAAAAAAFo/cCe10UnW34M/s1600-h/IMG002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177587436368305250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 247px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="320" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R9p8V2JCHGI/AAAAAAAAAFo/cCe10UnW34M/s320/IMG002.jpg" width="295" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Here are baby pictures of the three "beautiful" girls on my blog last week.  Your job is to guess which one is which.  Is the one above Lois, Grace, or Anne?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R9p8XGJCHHI/AAAAAAAAAFw/yuANkvhdnak/s1600-h/IMG005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177587457843141746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R9p8XGJCHHI/AAAAAAAAAFw/yuANkvhdnak/s320/IMG005.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; You will be able to quickly see that Mom didn't take all of us in at the same age to have our pictures taken.  Is this one Lois, Grace, or Anne?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R9p8XmJCHII/AAAAAAAAAF4/DnYVjSlCe78/s1600-h/IMG020.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177587466433076354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R9p8XmJCHII/AAAAAAAAAF4/DnYVjSlCe78/s320/IMG020.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Lois, Grace, or Anne?  Weren't we all cuties?&lt;br /&gt;     I also hope that you enjoy the music that Kristen picks out to accompany my blog.  Do you think the picked the present song because she things that Lois, Grace, and Anne are "Twisted Sisters?"  (You better be careful how you answer this, Kristen!!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-4532449158738206601?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/4532449158738206601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=4532449158738206601' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/4532449158738206601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/4532449158738206601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2008/03/flashback-friday-w-y-b-c-k.html' title='Flashback Friday--w-a-y  b-a-c-k!'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R9p8V2JCHGI/AAAAAAAAAFo/cCe10UnW34M/s72-c/IMG002.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-3636177489518973634</id><published>2008-03-07T05:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-07T06:07:32.614-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Flashback Friday!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R9FKpmJCHCI/AAAAAAAAAFI/ZL3Eh7qci64/s1600-h/IMG029.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5174999525298936866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R9FKpmJCHCI/AAAAAAAAAFI/ZL3Eh7qci64/s320/IMG029.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; W-a-y back (in 1959) when I was in the sixth grade, Lois was in the third grade, and Grace was in the first grade.  This was the only year that I ever had more than one sibling attending the same school that I did, and the last year I ever had someone in my family attending school with me (unless you count my father teaching in high school when I was a student there).  Anyway, one day the photographer came to school, as they do every year, to take the students' pictures.  I thought it would be fun if we three girls could have our picture taken together.  So, I called Mom and asked her if it would be all right.  She agreed that it would.  The three of us were allowed to go down to the stage of the gym, where the pictures were taken, and were photographed together.  The picture above is the result.  Don't you love my hair?  Don't you love my glasses?  If you look closely, you can see that I, as an almost teenager, felt it best to wear my dressiest dress and pearl necklace (that I had just received from Christmas).   The other sisters, although dressed nicely, didn't feel that "wear your Sunday very best" was necessary.  Anyway, here we are all in a picture that we all love (?) and that every one who sees it considers a classic.  Love you Grace and Lois!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-3636177489518973634?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/3636177489518973634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=3636177489518973634' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/3636177489518973634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/3636177489518973634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2008/03/flashback-friday.html' title='Flashback Friday!!!'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R9FKpmJCHCI/AAAAAAAAAFI/ZL3Eh7qci64/s72-c/IMG029.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-1455582095818139439</id><published>2008-03-02T20:44:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-02T20:51:12.972-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Disneyland - 2007</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R8uCty7x3ZI/AAAAAAAAAEo/keagIb-hV2M/s1600-h/IMG_0485.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173372320243375506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R8uCty7x3ZI/AAAAAAAAAEo/keagIb-hV2M/s320/IMG_0485.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Do you think the girls were anxious about entering the Disneyland Park, or a little hesitant?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R8uCuS7x3aI/AAAAAAAAAEw/mWOi9TnSsyQ/s1600-h/IMG_0497.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173372328833310114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R8uCuS7x3aI/AAAAAAAAAEw/mWOi9TnSsyQ/s320/IMG_0497.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Riding the Tea Cups with Peter Pan and Wendy.  Kristen was "in love" with Peter Pan as a child, so we thought it interesting that the Disney character who climbed into the teacup next to her was her childhood crush.  Although, I really think the cartoon character was a better looking fellow than this one!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R8uCuy7x3bI/AAAAAAAAAE4/PtfPXWEX4_k/s1600-h/IMG_0508.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173372337423244722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R8uCuy7x3bI/AAAAAAAAAE4/PtfPXWEX4_k/s320/IMG_0508.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Did the girls love to be hugged by Pooh or not?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R8uCwS7x3cI/AAAAAAAAAFA/HHKVZoQZexQ/s1600-h/IMG_0503.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173372363193048514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R8uCwS7x3cI/AAAAAAAAAFA/HHKVZoQZexQ/s320/IMG_0503.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Mattison became one a Disney Princess, crown and all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-1455582095818139439?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/1455582095818139439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=1455582095818139439' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/1455582095818139439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/1455582095818139439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2008/03/disneyland-2007_02.html' title='Disneyland - 2007'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R8uCty7x3ZI/AAAAAAAAAEo/keagIb-hV2M/s72-c/IMG_0485.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-2530010850201000063</id><published>2008-03-02T20:41:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-02T20:44:17.170-08:00</updated><title type='text'>More Disneyland Pictures</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R8uB0S7x3VI/AAAAAAAAAEI/yNpmKSGgsRs/s1600-h/IMG_0526.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173371332400897362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R8uB0S7x3VI/AAAAAAAAAEI/yNpmKSGgsRs/s320/IMG_0526.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Isabel was interested in watching the people below us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R8uB1i7x3WI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/B86KRXr3HF0/s1600-h/IMG_0512.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173371353875733858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R8uB1i7x3WI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/B86KRXr3HF0/s320/IMG_0512.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Meg wanted to see if she was the "fairest of them all."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R8uB2C7x3XI/AAAAAAAAAEY/vsjyiQ1Ww0g/s1600-h/IMG_0504.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173371362465668466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R8uB2C7x3XI/AAAAAAAAAEY/vsjyiQ1Ww0g/s320/IMG_0504.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; All the girls loved the Disney Princesses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R8uB2S7x3YI/AAAAAAAAAEg/muMGZlr3lt8/s1600-h/Capt+Jack+&amp;amp;+Anne_edited.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173371366760635778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R8uB2S7x3YI/AAAAAAAAAEg/muMGZlr3lt8/s320/Capt+Jack+%26+Anne_edited.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Need I say anything about this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-2530010850201000063?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/2530010850201000063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=2530010850201000063' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/2530010850201000063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/2530010850201000063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2008/03/more-disneyland-pictures_02.html' title='More Disneyland Pictures'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R8uB0S7x3VI/AAAAAAAAAEI/yNpmKSGgsRs/s72-c/IMG_0526.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-7545897619639317618</id><published>2008-03-01T18:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-01T18:45:12.131-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tagged!!  Me, A-Z</title><content type='html'>I am still new to this blogging stuff, so I hope I do this right.  Be sure to read the "T" entry so you can see who I tagged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A--Attached or Single?  After 40 years of marriage, I am certainly attached!&lt;br /&gt;B--Best friend?  My husband, Wayne, of course.&lt;br /&gt;C--Cake or Pie?  Depends on my mood.  Chocolate cake would probably be my first choice.&lt;br /&gt;D--Day of Choice?  Sunday--church is always nice, and Sunday is usually relaxing&lt;br /&gt;E--Essential Item?  My phone--so I can call and receive calls from my family.&lt;br /&gt;F--Favorite Color?  I used to tell everyone yellow, but I think I now prefer red--all shades.&lt;br /&gt;G--Gummy bears or worms?  I can do without either, thank you very much.&lt;br /&gt;H--Hometown?  Blackfoot, Idaho&lt;br /&gt;I--Indulgence(s)  Chocolate or ice cream (or just chocolate ice cream)&lt;br /&gt;J--January or July?  July--it's vacation time!&lt;br /&gt;K--Kids?  If I didn't have any, I would never have become a blogger.  Four that think they're perfect, and one that is.&lt;br /&gt;L--Life is complete without?  My family.&lt;br /&gt;M--Marriage date?  August 22, 1967&lt;br /&gt;N--Number of siblings?  Six&lt;br /&gt;O--Oranges or apples?  Apples, but an orange is a nice winter treat.&lt;br /&gt;P--Phobias or fears?  Snakes.&lt;br /&gt;Q--Quotes?  You mean what I say?  "Be good and remember who you are!"&lt;br /&gt;R--Reason to Smile?  Life.&lt;br /&gt;S--Season?  All of them--they each bring their own beauty and blessings.&lt;br /&gt;T--Tag 3 friends?  Kristen, Grace, and Stacie Lang (Someone might have to tell Stacie--Catherine!)&lt;br /&gt;U--Unknown Fact?  If I told you it wouldn't be unknown.&lt;br /&gt;V--Very Favorite Store?  Mrs. Cavanaugh's chocolates.  I seldom go there, though.&lt;br /&gt;W--Worst Habit?  Procrastination&lt;br /&gt;X--X-ray or ultrasound?  I've never had an ultrasound, but I did get my ankle x-rayed once.&lt;br /&gt;Y--Your favorite food?  Potatoes--mashed with good brown gravy, or baked, either one.&lt;br /&gt;Z--Zodiac?  Cancer--the crab--it fits me sometimes, doesn't it girls?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-7545897619639317618?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/7545897619639317618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=7545897619639317618' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/7545897619639317618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/7545897619639317618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2008/03/tagged-me-z.html' title='Tagged!!  Me, A-Z'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-4835458827544532311</id><published>2008-02-24T17:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-24T17:52:02.290-08:00</updated><title type='text'>More snow pictures</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R8Iech9xLaI/AAAAAAAAACI/-eAIRRq8AHY/s1600-h/2-19-2008007.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170728797677366690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R8Iech9xLaI/AAAAAAAAACI/-eAIRRq8AHY/s320/2-19-2008007.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; The afternoon of our big snow, one of our very talented, artistic neighbors decided to make a snow scupture.  I'm sure you can all tell that this is the Mt. Timpanogos Temple.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R8IedB9xLbI/AAAAAAAAACQ/xtdZVVTzgXE/s1600-h/2-19-2008021.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170728806267301298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R8IedB9xLbI/AAAAAAAAACQ/xtdZVVTzgXE/s320/2-19-2008021.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; We measured the snow on our deck.  If you can't read the numbers, the yardstick shows 12 inches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R8IedR9xLcI/AAAAAAAAACY/MypSe2XZeIo/s1600-h/2-19-2008019.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170728810562268610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R8IedR9xLcI/AAAAAAAAACY/MypSe2XZeIo/s320/2-19-2008019.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; The little picnic table on our patio was so covered that you almost couldn't tell it was there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R8Iedx9xLdI/AAAAAAAAACg/4lEVE4yE6XQ/s1600-h/2-19-2008013.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170728819152203218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R8Iedx9xLdI/AAAAAAAAACg/4lEVE4yE6XQ/s320/2-19-2008013.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; This is my favorite picture.  It is of the big tree in our neighbor's yard (yes, Audrey, it's yours).  Isn't it beautiful?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-4835458827544532311?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/4835458827544532311/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=4835458827544532311' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/4835458827544532311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/4835458827544532311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2008/02/more-snow-pictures.html' title='More snow pictures'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R8Iech9xLaI/AAAAAAAAACI/-eAIRRq8AHY/s72-c/2-19-2008007.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-7414911721187989487</id><published>2008-02-22T10:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-22T10:39:29.203-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Now it's MY turn (if I can do this right)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R78WiR9xLXI/AAAAAAAAABs/c3KTPjWwxEI/s1600-h/2-19-2008017.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169875675438460274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R78WiR9xLXI/AAAAAAAAABs/c3KTPjWwxEI/s320/2-19-2008017.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My daughters have been trying to get me to get into the "real" world, haven't they? I feel I MUST repond. First of all, I never, never kissed a boy named Bruce. (I really wanted to, though, darn him, he just never asked me out--and he was s-o-o-o- good looking!) I think H heard once that his wife's name was Ann, spelled wrong, naturally, so maybe he was trying to make up for what he really missed. Heh heh. (I do hope that no one he knows can track this blog down through linking and linking.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And, Becky Bailey was really Lois' friend. I just know how to do the imitation.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I do have some beautiful pictures that I took of the snow storm we had a couple of weeks ago. I have tried to get some of them onto this blog and haven't figured out how to do the best ones (Grace, do you think you could get Chris over here to help me?). Anyway, I am doing a test with one picture of the snow to see how I do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The picture above is a picture of our street when we returned home from church a couple of weeks ago. Isn't the snow pretty?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-7414911721187989487?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/7414911721187989487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=7414911721187989487' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/7414911721187989487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/7414911721187989487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2008/02/now-its-my-turn-if-i-can-do-this-right.html' title='Now it&apos;s MY turn (if I can do this right)'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R78WiR9xLXI/AAAAAAAAABs/c3KTPjWwxEI/s72-c/2-19-2008017.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-7579647263000009386</id><published>2008-02-21T18:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-21T18:37:44.029-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Now it's Karen's turn....</title><content type='html'>I just have a funny story about my mom that I thought you all would love to know, if you haven't heard it already.  Grace, your story about Mom at camp reminded me so thanks!  One year at girls camp when everyone was out on their hikes, Mom and another sister in the ward, who will remain nameless, Denise Jeffs, (I'm pretty sure) were eating watermelon and spitting the seeds in the girls' cups that were hanging on clothes lines.  We hung the cups, which had our names on them, on clothes lines so that we didn't have to get a new cup everytime we were thirsty and so they were easily accessable.  We didn't know that they would be easily accessable for watermelon seeds that had been in our leaders' mouths.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-7579647263000009386?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/7579647263000009386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=7579647263000009386' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/7579647263000009386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/7579647263000009386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2008/02/now-its-karens-turn.html' title='Now it&apos;s Karen&apos;s turn....'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-3574595694848046928</id><published>2008-02-20T16:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-20T17:13:32.921-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Okay she saw it</title><content type='html'>Okay my mom did see her blog. She says she is even downloading pictures to add to her blog. But until she does I am still going to add some comments. Did you know my dad had a purple motorcycle called "the mansion of love". At least I think that is what it is called. My mom kissed a boy named Bruce. One of her great friends was Becky Bailey and she does a great impersonation of her. If you are a part of the family you know how to do a Becky Bailey impersonation too. You should ask her to show you the next time you see her. And my mom taught Dreyton to do this....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R7zOkx9xLVI/AAAAAAAAABc/f6VObSzwqQ0/s1600-h/Thanksgiving+060.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169233603597512018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R7zOkx9xLVI/AAAAAAAAABc/f6VObSzwqQ0/s320/Thanksgiving+060.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; She is a master at touching her tongue to her nose. Ask her to show you. Aren't her grand-daughters so precious and sweet? She is sooooo lucky to have them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R7zOlR9xLWI/AAAAAAAAABk/hrRxc-XmWl4/s1600-h/Thanksgiving+059.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169233612187446626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R7zOlR9xLWI/AAAAAAAAABk/hrRxc-XmWl4/s320/Thanksgiving+059.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Have a great day mom!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-3574595694848046928?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/3574595694848046928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=3574595694848046928' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/3574595694848046928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/3574595694848046928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2008/02/okay-she-saw-it.html' title='Okay she saw it'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R7zOkx9xLVI/AAAAAAAAABc/f6VObSzwqQ0/s72-c/Thanksgiving+060.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-4689521124162062958</id><published>2008-02-19T12:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-24T18:46:10.696-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I love hairy, scary men!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R7tCvB9xLQI/AAAAAAAAAA0/WGIcT8jeiiA/s1600-h/Thanksgiving+081.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168798373086571778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R7tCvB9xLQI/AAAAAAAAAA0/WGIcT8jeiiA/s320/Thanksgiving+081.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R7tCvh9xLRI/AAAAAAAAAA8/PcsNe2S9BZU/s1600-h/Thanksgiving+012.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168798381676506386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R7tCvh9xLRI/AAAAAAAAAA8/PcsNe2S9BZU/s320/Thanksgiving+012.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-4689521124162062958?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/4689521124162062958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=4689521124162062958' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/4689521124162062958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/4689521124162062958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2008/02/i-love-hairy-scarey-men.html' title='I love hairy, scary men!'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R7tCvB9xLQI/AAAAAAAAAA0/WGIcT8jeiiA/s72-c/Thanksgiving+081.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-9179065538220951839</id><published>2008-02-18T17:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-18T19:05:48.793-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Kristen Took Over</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Grandma with Mattison and Isabel and Meg at Disneyland. We had a fun time.&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R7or2x9xLOI/AAAAAAAAAAk/7CenkJ_xasg/s1600-h/Picture+001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168491742486408418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R7or2x9xLOI/AAAAAAAAAAk/7CenkJ_xasg/s320/Picture+001.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Grandpa is in the Whale at Disneyland with Meg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R7or3R9xLPI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RBm0_6cZ8gk/s1600-h/Picture+005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168491751076343026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R7or3R9xLPI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RBm0_6cZ8gk/s320/Picture+005.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Dear Mom,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Please add to your post. Karen and I have figured out how to get into you blog and we are going to start adding all kinds of crazy things you might not want people to know. For instance, do people know that is not your real hair color? Do people know you used to snore? Do they know that Dad still does? Do you want people to know that you love to eat chocolate? Wait--we like it too. Do you want people to know about Callister thighs? I don't. So, please add to your post so we don't have to keep breaking in.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Love, Kristen&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;p.s. I am going to see how long it takes you to notice that we have changed your blog. Each day you don't notice I am going to add something else new. You are interesting--tell us about yourself!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-9179065538220951839?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/9179065538220951839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=9179065538220951839' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/9179065538220951839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/9179065538220951839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2008/02/kristen-took-over.html' title='Kristen Took Over'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R7or2x9xLOI/AAAAAAAAAAk/7CenkJ_xasg/s72-c/Picture+001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-1157266692843243625</id><published>2007-11-20T08:53:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-20T09:12:35.876-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Grandkids</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R0MRKqmg87I/AAAAAAAAAAU/PkKXpKDi_OE/s1600-h/DSCF0892.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5134966875064693682" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R0MRKqmg87I/AAAAAAAAAAU/PkKXpKDi_OE/s320/DSCF0892.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Here we are with all of the grandchildren just before the wedding reception. It was the only time they were all sitting still! In case you want to know who they are, and who they belong to: Dominique (Donovan's son), Ethan (Karen) sitting on my lap, Dreyton (Donovan). Front row: Meg, Isabel, and Mattison (Kristen's daughters), Jyllian and Jasmine (Donovan's girls). I just assumed that you would all know who Wayne and I were on the back row.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-1157266692843243625?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/1157266692843243625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=1157266692843243625' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/1157266692843243625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/1157266692843243625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2007/11/grandkids.html' title='Grandkids'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R0MRKqmg87I/AAAAAAAAAAU/PkKXpKDi_OE/s72-c/DSCF0892.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-2097201183001765201</id><published>2007-11-20T08:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-20T08:51:35.650-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R0MQRamg86I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3gGuBNMHJwI/s1600-h/DSCF0871.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5134965891517182882" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R0MQRamg86I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3gGuBNMHJwI/s320/DSCF0871.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Our youngest son, Bryan, was married last Friday to Melissa Burton.  Here they are coming out of the Mt. Timpanogos Temple, where the ceremony took place.  We had all out family in town for the occasion, and it was a lovely day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-2097201183001765201?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/2097201183001765201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=2097201183001765201' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/2097201183001765201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/2097201183001765201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2007/11/our-youngest-son-bryan-was-married-last.html' title=''/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p-iBDrLNk8/R0MQRamg86I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3gGuBNMHJwI/s72-c/DSCF0871.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9190023572707177003.post-7790397621002184003</id><published>2007-11-20T08:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-20T08:47:50.134-08:00</updated><title type='text'>First blog</title><content type='html'>I decided (along with Kristen's coaching) to join the electronic world in posting information about the Lott household for all the world to see (and read).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9190023572707177003-7790397621002184003?l=lottspillar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/feeds/7790397621002184003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9190023572707177003&amp;postID=7790397621002184003' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/7790397621002184003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9190023572707177003/posts/default/7790397621002184003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lottspillar.blogspot.com/2007/11/first-blog.html' title='First blog'/><author><name>Anne and Wayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00626228897653141099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
