tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-291933352024-03-12T23:10:56.824-07:00Cut the MalarkeyAmy Batemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06856309972170497076noreply@blogger.comBlogger444125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29193335.post-23020621681533601762015-05-31T20:18:00.001-07:002015-05-31T20:18:19.933-07:00Walker Texas Charlotte<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">
Yesterday at the luncheon after my Grandma Carver's funeral, Charlotte took quite a few steps while holding a roll in each hand. She has done this before, but this was the farthest she has ever gone. Today she has decided that walking is pretty fun, and she all but runs from one thing to the next. Nick and I have really enjoyed sending her back and forth between us. We would laugh that one day Charlotte would just decide to walk, and there wouldn't be any wobbling steps, and it really did come true. She is so proud of herself.</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwJPXovMaBvhVFuV3CTeWRiVUycC1Kjtr9H0atcxiw-zb5E7LV8A7t38nG1V9r3umGRc-NIXUSO6yI' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">
This is the second time we've splashed around with colors in the tub. This time I had Nick around to help me out. I poured instant potatoes and food coloring in bowls and let her splash and play and feel. Charlotte loves pouring the potatoes out and swishing the colors with her feet and hands. Her cute little crossed feet melt my heart.</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2g0qXg9MhRwQNck79yHoPyLwhJQwLwggYaQ_Kd2sGh68AGy5EiqiDANpWI10jbjbZ_2oNS7Q53-6IfCzjOPelCyHWFfJJiCeDHg6sf7TpFrZdUQhNnv-tGRHtFkliSlFDRXAC/s1600/Charlotte+Playing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2g0qXg9MhRwQNck79yHoPyLwhJQwLwggYaQ_Kd2sGh68AGy5EiqiDANpWI10jbjbZ_2oNS7Q53-6IfCzjOPelCyHWFfJJiCeDHg6sf7TpFrZdUQhNnv-tGRHtFkliSlFDRXAC/s320/Charlotte+Playing.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">
<br /></div>
Amy Batemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06856309972170497076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29193335.post-78727998542993729392015-05-22T21:15:00.005-07:002015-05-22T21:15:55.562-07:00Charlotte on the Boardwalk<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxPAXjZ9Rbnk2MUTg_8Rsmdc0r_snlHIEKaSUc_HNJ4LjyAQm3bbW9f2RuBUFGBmTNcLsEdLko8m1M' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Can't miss any chance to eat some bread. </div>
Amy Batemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06856309972170497076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29193335.post-42383471363943181652015-05-22T21:07:00.001-07:002015-05-22T21:07:57.743-07:00Back in the Blog Saddle<div style="text-align: left;">
This morning I asked Charlotte what she wanted to wear. She kept making pinchy fingers, and finally realizing I laughed, "Snip snap?!" Lottie smiled big and nodded her head vigorously. The Santoros gave us an outfit that has a crab on the onesie and a crab on the bum of the striped pants. We've been reading an Under the Sea book where the crabs go "snip snap." What a funny little smartie I have.</div>
<br />
For our "every day we must do something fun" activity, Nick and I took Charlotte up the canyon to find some ducks. Blech, we found too many. At first dam there were so many geese and ducks that I had stink face the entire time as I gingerly walked around the sea of bird poop on the grass. The birds weren't impressed that we left the bread in the trunk of our car, but Charlotte had a blast screaming, "Quack!" at them all. On our way back to the car, a goose hissed at us. I regret not slapping its stupid face.<br />
<br />
We drove up to second dam to walk around the boardwalk. The bread that was intended for the birds was quickly consumed by Charlotte.<br />
<br />
Yesterday we took Lottie on a walk through the nice neighborhood just to the south of us. We saw a woodchuck! It was ridiculous. Right as I was about to say, "Look, a big kitty!" the not-kitty stood up on its hind legs. It was massive, trudged around for a second, then crawled into the hedges. On our way back we saw it again, but it was in a big hurry to cross the street. We saw it sprint, leap, and scuttle under a fence. What a funny guy.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Amy Batemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06856309972170497076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29193335.post-64759228941687896942013-08-21T20:48:00.002-07:002013-08-30T21:12:37.275-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizZdu4GCqZlJUuQfZ7t68-i5DwE745W3CkRDErPyyqfCXhrXJUjwYJwTA3g9iPlK0hOm7Cj7vwzJ9OI5r4WiTdk0JGygkzWYYqWdWBfTHsDwt34f4qGsfs1NzUq2rR0HhWOOJN/s1600/Dress.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizZdu4GCqZlJUuQfZ7t68-i5DwE745W3CkRDErPyyqfCXhrXJUjwYJwTA3g9iPlK0hOm7Cj7vwzJ9OI5r4WiTdk0JGygkzWYYqWdWBfTHsDwt34f4qGsfs1NzUq2rR0HhWOOJN/s320/Dress.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
My dear friend Rachel brought me a gift bag full of the sweetest little girl clothes; I cried. I am overwhelmed lately with so many good things happening in my life.<br />
<br />
1) I received a full tuition scholarship for the rest of my masters program. One of my professors nominated me, I had to go through a rigorous application and interview process, and I made it!<br />
<br />
2) I was incredibly unsure of what to do for work this Fall, but everything has seamlessly fallen in to place. I'm teaching again, which is wonderful, but I was dreading going back to Eastmont because every single one of my closest teacher friends either switched schools, moved to another state, or chose not to teach anymore. One of our new English teachers became an immediate close friend when she poked fun of me at Back-to-School night. She is heaven sent.<br />
<br />
3) I'm pregnant; this alone makes me sob. When I was younger, I was told that it would be extremely difficult, if not impossible, to have children. I was devastated, and I was too young to handle the information. It took years for me to climb out of my secret depression. I unfortunately avoided my patriarchal blessing because I felt it mocked me when it talked about my future family. Now I am married to a man who LOVES me, and we are going to have a baby girl. I cannot wait. I can't stop carefully folding and unfolding our little girl's clothes. How did I snag Nick Guyaux? When I came home from my official first day of teaching this year, he had scrubbed the entire apartment, and he had been cooking Indian food all day because he knew I loved it. He is the better half, and I am terrifically spoiled all the time. I chose a song for us the other night, Nick loves Steve Winwood's original version, I love the following version.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://youtu.be/c__noWWtdZg">Higher Love</a>Amy Batemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06856309972170497076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29193335.post-62123682191995284052012-08-01T13:09:00.002-07:002012-08-01T13:09:34.480-07:00This morning I went on a walk with my mom up Porter Rockwell trail. We said good morning to a lot of people, sweat a little, and laughed at how similar my dad and Nick are. Sheesh. "You married your dad!" she teased me.<br />
<br />
I had a brief panic attack as I was curling my hair earlier. "What the what?" I whispered as I put down the straightener and pulled two small soft pink flesh-colored pieces out of my hair. I ran to Nick begging him to tell me I didn't have a flesh-eating bacteria attacking my scalp. I turned them over a few times in my hand, we stared in silence, then I happily said, "Oh! It's turkey!" (Nick had made me a turkey sandwich earlier).<br />
<br />
I practically skipped back to the bathroom; what a relief! Nick cried out, "How the hell did you get turkey in your hair?!" Dear Nick: Welcome to the mysterious adventures of Amy Bateman ... er ... Guyaux.Amy Batemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06856309972170497076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29193335.post-53773352140555546932012-07-28T11:51:00.003-07:002012-07-28T11:51:26.409-07:00<h2>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Wedding Video</b></span></h2>
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Thanks to Cam Goold and his jean short wearing friend. </span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="224" mozallowfullscreen="" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/46063930?autoplay=1" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="398"></iframe>Amy Batemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06856309972170497076noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29193335.post-13509576317322116962012-07-27T21:26:00.003-07:002012-07-27T21:26:38.875-07:00<h2>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Does anyone read blogs anymore? </span></span></h2>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The post format has changed, I'm nervous!</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I got married, yup. The mister's out with friends, so here I am, blogging on a Friday night! Here's two somewhat funny stories to help motivate me to get back on the blog bus.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-size: large;">#1) </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;">Nick has too much stuff according to me. My inner need to keep all things clean and put </span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 14px;">away has come out in full force now that I have a husband. Boxes of what I consider pure hoarder's crap keep appearing, and I want to cry silently into my pillow. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 14px;">The other night we were getting ready to go clean the temple, and Nick kindly asked me to help him go through his boxes and help him throw things away. This was both ground- and heartbreaking. The idea of going through boxes of things such as his childhood toys sounds like Amy torture. The fact that he might throw things away sounds like Amy heaven. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 14px;">I tread cautiously and said I was not okay with helping because my default setting has been set to throw away for the past 15 years. I also backed that up with evidence of my complete lack of feeling sentimental for anything. He said he admired me for these qualities, and he needed help throwing stuff away. I responded with a safe conjecture that if I helped, I would throw something away, and it would secretly hurt his feelings, and he would bring it up at a family reunion years later. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 14px;">He laughed and said the last thing his Grandmother said to him before she went back to California after our wedding was, "You need to throw stuff away." I never officially said yes to helping him go through his stuff.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 14px;">As I'm tying my shoes, Nick mentioned that there is one thing he's sentimental about. He started to get into a story about how when he was little, he had a dog, and it died, so he kept the dog's collar. Midsentence, Nick stops, "Why are you shaking your head?" My body betrayed me! I didn't even realize I was already responding via body language to how I felt about this confession. I apologized, and he kept going. He was verge emotional and finished with, "I also saved the rock my dog died next to."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 14px;">I was so proud of myself for keeping it together and neither laughing nor gagging.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-size: large;">#2)</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;"> I laughed really hard behind Nick's back today.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;">After smushing spiders in the looked-like-it's-never-ever-been-deep-cleaned-before bathroom and getting scared, I finally went and got Nick and asked for his help. I was really nervous about some of the small spaces, so I begged him to do it. "I've already killed four big spiders," when truthfully they weren't too big, and technically one was dead already because I sprayed him to hell with clorox.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;">So eventually, Nick was bent down scrubbing by our shower, so I went to the kitchen, grabbed a garbage sack and came back. I literally was gone for a max of 20 seconds.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;">Once I walked back into the bathroom, he whipped around and said, "You cannot leave again!"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;">I stammered, "Okay ... I just grabbed a garbage sack..." holding up the garbage as evidence.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;">He pointed behind him and said, "Well, there was a spider sneaking up on me from behind, </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 14px;">and you weren't here to warn me!"</span>Amy Batemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06856309972170497076noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29193335.post-43768732634279882902012-02-24T20:39:00.002-08:002012-02-24T20:42:07.607-08:00<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;">Big Girl Bed / Happy Birthday to Me!</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><br /></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifxIZUcGZUVdkInnGsj9EVUxNImRs-4vpaos9PVmmom7DKtdqoQmcm_KjbKdcscegdgd6DTU1rjjWUSfDCceRq6C-1hsHyhzsLX6s8_qHH_A4y9JrAcS7lH2YH5I6XxvusarLj/s1600/P2240016.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifxIZUcGZUVdkInnGsj9EVUxNImRs-4vpaos9PVmmom7DKtdqoQmcm_KjbKdcscegdgd6DTU1rjjWUSfDCceRq6C-1hsHyhzsLX6s8_qHH_A4y9JrAcS7lH2YH5I6XxvusarLj/s320/P2240016.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712928563389335826" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Love, love, love the colors. I tried to snap a good picture of the entire ensemble, meh, I liked this catch the best. To me!</div>Amy Batemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06856309972170497076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29193335.post-8840418275942018102012-02-01T15:18:00.000-08:002012-02-01T15:19:48.728-08:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQlq0wxeDou5t5GQbLCSK8IvWjhDktIZwYsjc0DEL2m-KImpB_XJUAtLovR9eJaUaNcenDom7ICjhturmgOkTp3XWkuTQi01PqNb-ryagQ9WndmEp2t_6HcOLsmo-Eliir6D4j/s1600/Anti-Bullying.tiff" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 247px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQlq0wxeDou5t5GQbLCSK8IvWjhDktIZwYsjc0DEL2m-KImpB_XJUAtLovR9eJaUaNcenDom7ICjhturmgOkTp3XWkuTQi01PqNb-ryagQ9WndmEp2t_6HcOLsmo-Eliir6D4j/s320/Anti-Bullying.tiff" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704310600771540194" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Today in TA (think homeroom), I went over cyber bullying, verbal bullying, and physical bullying with my cute little 7th graders. We made anti-bullying posters, and this one takes the cake. I love the winking wolf.</div>Amy Batemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06856309972170497076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29193335.post-70518488550251372692012-01-24T18:06:00.001-08:002012-01-24T18:06:32.705-08:00<div>1)</div><div>Me: "Looks like you copied."</div><div>Student: "I'm pretty sure I didn't?" Really said with a question mark.</div><div>Me: "Pretty sure?"</div><div><br /></div><div>2) </div><div>Student: “I wrote my schedule on my hand, but my sister’s hamster tried to bite science off this morning.”</div><div><br /></div><div>3) </div><div>I'm about to read Tina Fey's Bossypants, and I've already laughed and sent a funny text before opening the book. Can't wait.</div>Amy Batemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06856309972170497076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29193335.post-52236068023527584592012-01-06T20:46:00.000-08:002012-01-06T21:00:53.985-08:00<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large; ">Nothing like having a good cry while taking a bubble bath.</span></div><div><br /></div><div>1) Zach and Em went to Disneyland and let us keep Toby for the whole week. I have been so excited to leave work and head straight to my parents' to play with my Toby mister. The crying started when I thought about how Toby has to go home tomorrow.</div><div><br /></div><div>2) Best. Parents. Ever. I would have cried about this earlier, but I was busy riding the train at the mall with Toby. (Shout out to the exfoliating kiosk guy for trying to hit on me while I was briskly walking past with Toby on my hip: Thanks, you made me smile.)</div><div><br /></div><div>3) Sometimes I cannot make my brain stop rehashing every detail about my school day. While boohooing (in a good way) in the tub, I remembered:</div><div>Me: "Guys, you are pros at this, absolute pros. Keep it up!"</div><div>7th grade boy in all seriousness: "Why wouldn't we be? You're our teacher."</div><div><br /></div><div>4) I have a really really tough girl this year. She has aspergers and is incredibly stubborn. One of my adorable little 7th grade girls came and told me today that yesterday after school, she invited this girl to the library so that they could study together for today's test. I have never come so close to hugging and lifting a student off the ground for being so amazing. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Amy Batemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06856309972170497076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29193335.post-364230639409574322011-12-27T16:38:00.000-08:002011-12-27T16:47:55.369-08:00<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><b>Cure my boredom please!</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div>My dad's asleep, Em's sick and asleep, my mom just got back from having a root canal and is in the the tub, I let the neighbor's cat Big in to liven up this joint, it didn't work. </div><div><br /></div><div>My dad woke up, "Wait, you let Big in?!"</div><div>Me while following Big and giggling, "He wanted to come in, look how happy he is!"</div><div>Dad sitting up, "Well, put him outside."</div><div>Me pouting, "But look how good he's being."</div><div>Dad switching channels on the tv, "Yeah right."</div><div>Me while picking up a purring Big, "Sorry, show's over mister."</div><div><br /></div><div>Great, now my parents are going to Stake Sports Night and Em's in the tub. Guess I'll get back to updating my resume and writing my statement of purpose. U of U grad program ... hoorah! </div><div><br /></div><div>A couple of great breaks between all of this familial excitement: Playing "Where's My Water?" and reading "The Scorch Trials". Aren't you jealous of my life?</div>Amy Batemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06856309972170497076noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29193335.post-41902402906390313892011-12-04T19:49:00.000-08:002011-12-04T19:57:54.290-08:00<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large; ">The First Beanie of the Season</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large; "><br /></span></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLW1so59PFgM-8CayLqk2EFLCnyXJEiNm3mkL85ADZaASkl0DKz4ugMsw0SEykfHSjUM36e9GzqVzaUdPG7qcJBRKrgcFkZjWomINIjf4EXMXodbzhPz0B-Tr8kRRBAItCz2gW/s320/Photo+on+2011-12-04+at+20.47.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682486597906969346" /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;">Too bad I'm too lazy to get a better picture of the amazing flower. I am proud of myself. I've got to practice because I might have promised a guy I'd try to make him one of these:</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ6EOuU5AvISSdUhs3UpQ1w26FEkVSS6ZdrIcofJtvIR6iaRhbz91uJfwizsP1WHc1RHv1MpRhj1IJDgBlcmM90-inMLyc4co05IFNOasIfCiFWqrRUV8tyX10OD7TTSvxKoqG/s320/beanie+beard.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682488360282319458" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 78px; height: 78px; " />Amy Batemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06856309972170497076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29193335.post-74382125532941432762011-11-27T09:45:00.000-08:002011-11-27T10:04:39.008-08:00<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;">Thanksgiving 2011</span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Idaho Falls, ID</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTlDayWuBhCX-89W0okqMy15MyIDDdczQIEuiHR6ZU2IcSY_cotB9ilzqEOmEHJ7whfxFGzJ2cwjDLIPRDxCua-HC7vahhUtlWXLiZW_MBn-hf0Zbaaou-q5s5ylRqirYGzVX0/s1600/PB240001.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTlDayWuBhCX-89W0okqMy15MyIDDdczQIEuiHR6ZU2IcSY_cotB9ilzqEOmEHJ7whfxFGzJ2cwjDLIPRDxCua-HC7vahhUtlWXLiZW_MBn-hf0Zbaaou-q5s5ylRqirYGzVX0/s320/PB240001.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679733943424776226" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Our amazing view from the 8th floor of the Red Lion Hotel.</div></div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZVxLXO6TT4KuHeFaGyQ20_7BNk5KVcZHohcSLlkiBr3O2jABSPuLTVsAYSKdNgZqyMmNqVf65WDRfnkAHXZ0UvuV6iYC7nvWDLA7PsdjbXrLepHCy1TZSt_I0WScf0ViUiyxG/s1600/PB250004.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZVxLXO6TT4KuHeFaGyQ20_7BNk5KVcZHohcSLlkiBr3O2jABSPuLTVsAYSKdNgZqyMmNqVf65WDRfnkAHXZ0UvuV6iYC7nvWDLA7PsdjbXrLepHCy1TZSt_I0WScf0ViUiyxG/s320/PB250004.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679733937348719106" /></a>Things to remember:</div><div><ul><li>Eating in the breakroom of The Madsens</li><li>Little kids playing on the intercom</li><li>Uncle Dale telling me how proud he is of me</li><li>My dad asking question after question about Topaz Mountain and if my arm was sore, or my eyes were blood shot, or if I slept well, or if I've looked at my rocks yet...</li><li>Having to hold myself back from grabbing Buffy's boys and hugging and kissing them. I missed our boys.</li><li>Watching Vy and Jordan play/fight. "Hi Vy!" cute little Jordan.</li><li>Forgetting that Jay was still dancing in the basement using the kinect until he wandered upstairs an hour later. "Why are you so sweaty?"</li><li>Fiesta Ole - My first and possibly last trip</li><li>Dad to Jay, "Where'd you get that hat?" Jay pointing to his huge beanie, "Oh, you mean this?"</li><li>Dad, "Now remember, you can eat for free at the bayfay tomorrow... Buffet," and Em and I going nuts teasing him until he got really loud, hit the steering wheel, and said, "Enough!" Hilarious.</li><li>Em dramatically trying to wheel her luggage out on the wrong floor.</li><li>Sharing a room with Em and making her laugh so hard at herself that she choked on toothpaste</li><li>Grandma's not-on-purpose bend and snap that made me laugh so hard I both cried and drooled</li><li>Before leaving, Grandma telling me she was looking at me during Thanksgiving dinner, and how she kept thinking to herself how absolutely beautiful I looked. I really needed that compliment.</li></ul></div>Amy Batemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06856309972170497076noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29193335.post-66970436054578141872011-11-23T20:16:00.000-08:002011-11-23T20:47:18.489-08:00<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;">Topaz Mountain</span></div><div style="text-align: center;">(Brent Bateman's Favorite)</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">What should I do on my first day off for the holiday? Be ready to make the drive to Topaz Mountain at 4:45 A.M. but the sheer terror of my dad's wrath if I wasn't ready to go wakes me up at 4 A.M. </div><div style="text-align: center;">I felt like a little kid ready for school when I climbed into the suburban with my backpack and lunchbox. My dad, Dra, Uncle Scott, cousin Brandon, Uncle Norman, cousin Alex, and I all rode together while my Aunt Kay, cousin Blaine, and his wife Christy followed in their car. I tried to stay awake and listen to my uncle's great stories, but I can't stay awake for long in cars. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I woke up later to my dad saying, "We went too far!" I opened my eyes, wondering why were at a toll booth, and saw my dad talking to a guy in uniform with a huge shotgun. Masking my alarm with my sleepy voice, I whispered, "Where are we?" So confusing. Apparently, we'd made it to Dugway. We flipped around and quickly found the dirt road we had missed.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFOmX8DM_q1dq2b5dNWshClLsDI9JB9759I0bUx5R3bRwhz04SPzgmKKboN9oBm3iFrgjTpLwfNZQcVhxennOoRbjrt1WcCPqD8phjQKUKMrxi3hKIKa44bBWkV0DdqOE5wUNF/s1600/PB230515.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFOmX8DM_q1dq2b5dNWshClLsDI9JB9759I0bUx5R3bRwhz04SPzgmKKboN9oBm3iFrgjTpLwfNZQcVhxennOoRbjrt1WcCPqD8phjQKUKMrxi3hKIKa44bBWkV0DdqOE5wUNF/s320/PB230515.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678412339203213954" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Our first stop. </div><div style="text-align: center;">I didn't really know what I was supposed to be doing. Dra and I started taking pictures and laughing a lot immediately. We were horsing around, using her screwdriver and hammer to chisel at the rock, and I asked if I could see it for a second. I blindly chose a spot, chipped away, and a huge piece of black rock fell out. Dra said we should show my dad, so we climbed back to where he was, and he was in awe. He called everyone over to show off the bixbyite (spelling is of course atrocious, I'd never heard of such a rock, and every time my dad said it, I thought of Clive Bixby). I was beaming until I looked over at Dra and she was scowling at me and my dumb luck. It was hilarious. My dad told us to show him where we found it, and we laughed that we couldn't because it was our secret spot. He didn't laugh. We showed him immediately.</div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6nP6Rn3_-InRsdBpY5rfi-WPgWGSGVbA8qTi9buPlI2YJXWqrZ3GIyPJ_4IDlqM5ZPtl3PgRED-6erlgQhjJUjn2CXwAfK2Y4uoV7hMvZRrNWja9ok3BsTBtSZ7Jr5PU-yxqN/s1600/PB230516.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6nP6Rn3_-InRsdBpY5rfi-WPgWGSGVbA8qTi9buPlI2YJXWqrZ3GIyPJ_4IDlqM5ZPtl3PgRED-6erlgQhjJUjn2CXwAfK2Y4uoV7hMvZRrNWja9ok3BsTBtSZ7Jr5PU-yxqN/s320/PB230516.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678412332142296546" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">So early in the morning, so cold and windy.</div></div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsTmqogZm9Bpo2dm0PzgGvkiBXoQwHO6e4eTUU_U81Omm1BklyF5NEOXRXQnJdfGZu7g8bTVSX1XM3nbeDFJ-yAEjBjvo9OHxoVeGrTmCUheZ4ZEOQGwt74KUW47MqPOHPwWzr/s1600/PB230520.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsTmqogZm9Bpo2dm0PzgGvkiBXoQwHO6e4eTUU_U81Omm1BklyF5NEOXRXQnJdfGZu7g8bTVSX1XM3nbeDFJ-yAEjBjvo9OHxoVeGrTmCUheZ4ZEOQGwt74KUW47MqPOHPwWzr/s320/PB230520.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678412323816958050" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">My dad was in heaven. </div></div><div><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyJxSR2pEjB0Uk7BgJml4QxesPL1BrM-1MaMo2qGcd_n5N2VSAbklkkHzGWu4xx603bTB4XH44ZQkc' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Our 2nd spot: The Geode ... Patch? Field? I can't remember. </div><div style="text-align: center;">It was kind of a bust. We did see a lot of sheep though. I don't like sheep, it's no secret. There were literally hundreds of them. They scattered when my cousins Brandon and Alex jumped from behind a hill and scared them, but then they would gain back their stupid sheep courage and start following us again. I stuck close to my dad, then we realized there was a muddy water hole they were trying to get to. They weren't going to mob us after all. We saw the sheep herder on his horse. He had four super cute dogs with him, but they were all business, no play.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd-TG2EtrG6uCFEZbIZWW5jTvGNOdBmXZpfxnudSjX8ySyL4MceHzLJoxE7RqF4wlr1PDVa14d_xZC4cLK1aXdxcFcUvBzZNFzXf-fsvFK6foRnSdwJr5hRE0oeTOXbHdlh-jE/s1600/PB230526.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd-TG2EtrG6uCFEZbIZWW5jTvGNOdBmXZpfxnudSjX8ySyL4MceHzLJoxE7RqF4wlr1PDVa14d_xZC4cLK1aXdxcFcUvBzZNFzXf-fsvFK6foRnSdwJr5hRE0oeTOXbHdlh-jE/s320/PB230526.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678412318392280930" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Our third spot, the south end of Topaz Mountain.</div></div><div style="text-align: center;">Can you see the windy road at the bottom? We parked close to the road and climbed up to this spot. I think it was the only time I was truly warm all day. My dad kept muttering, "Shoot!" Apparently, when he had come before there were these "two rocks that were amazing," and he couldn't remember where they were. Again, I had no idea what I was supposed to be doing. Instead of destroying rocks, I mostly watched all the people around us and talked to my non-stop-talker cousin Alex.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm6TybBfjQjzXrx0q1YbIVzgcFx7IphsvvWAWyE6XoHeGvhvPJ_I9hRY_46aVR9S5RvWJNvGmu0PEqo64jixQl6TKbCgQn660dqcyuq1-YYVxLvBdFJojfj7y8j79OifAZevJP/s1600/PB230528.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm6TybBfjQjzXrx0q1YbIVzgcFx7IphsvvWAWyE6XoHeGvhvPJ_I9hRY_46aVR9S5RvWJNvGmu0PEqo64jixQl6TKbCgQn660dqcyuq1-YYVxLvBdFJojfj7y8j79OifAZevJP/s320/PB230528.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678412318005641762" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">My partner in hilarity.</div></div><div style="text-align: center;">Overall, it was a great time. Would I go again? Probably, but only if it was warmer.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Amy Batemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06856309972170497076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29193335.post-26009656871732706782011-11-18T18:31:00.001-08:002011-11-18T19:04:48.724-08:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;">A few things:</span><div><br /></div><div>1) Best run ever Monday after school. Why? Well, at one point a guy was running towards me, then we waved and passed each other, then I watched as his shadow turned around once he was past me and checked out my butt. High fived myself. (In my mind of course.)</div><div><br /></div><div>2) Embarrassed myself Monday night. How? For FHE we had a turkey dinner and auction to raise money for a family's Christmas. We've been hearing about this auction for about two months, and there has been a sheet passed around relief society every single week. Last week I was real tired of reading lame auction items. (They weren't lame, they were typical: 1 plate of cookies! or 2 loaves of my homemade pumpkin bread!) So I wrote down: One Drop it Like it's Hot Lesson by Amy Bateman. I passed the sheet to my roommate and watched carefully, excited to make her laugh in church. I got no reaction. Argh. So boring. She didn't even notice. I had great intentions of crossing my name off ... and I forgot to cross my name off. The joke came back to bite me in the drop it like it's hot butt. So Monday night, I'm sitting next to my friends and being ridiculous and laughing a lot and having fun during the auction. Then I see my roommate Natalie who was handing our Bishop (the emcee) the certificates for auctioned items look at me funny, then she handed him the certificate, then he looked at me funny. My insides dropped. I tried to get my Bishop to look at me and notice my miming motions of tearing the paper up, and the slitting my throat motions to get him to abort. It did no good. My face went bright red as the Bishop laughed into the mic, "I'm just going to read this one off! One drop it like it's hot lesson by Amy Bateman!" The entire room erupted in cheers and woots and laughter. I turned sideways and shake-laughed. I refused to demonstrate even though I felt extreme peer pressure from the chanting crowd. My other roommate Baylee was laughing so hard she was crying, and I was laughing so hard, my armpits were sweaty. My lesson went for $60. Guess I'll have to get my nephew Eli to give me lessons before I give lessons.</div><div><br /></div><div>3) Today at school I asked one of my boys to stomp on our recycling. He stood in it and bounced, then tried to step out, but his foot was stuck in an empty kleenex box. I laughed way too hard.</div><div><br /></div><div>4) I went disco skating with Eric, Andrea, and Kolten at Classic last Saturday. It was an absolute blast. Eric and Kolten have some major moves on rollerskates; I was so impressed and entertained. We met up with some of their friends who were also pros on skates. At one point while Dra and I were rollerblading around, one of their excellent skater friends jumped out of the rink on to the carpet and started doing sexy leg lifts with his rollerskates on. I will never stop laughing about it.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Amy Batemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06856309972170497076noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29193335.post-74353865842264795852011-11-11T08:17:00.000-08:002011-11-11T08:20:22.802-08:00<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:180%;">Crazy Hair Day - Spirit Week</span><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMFyCTs_BLWrRgtYV3llvfQnIDBnfU4EFPo8mMrSumO-jgM7-nhziMQ18_8wrN1HF8XbE3lG0xK9JYyedStJT4n5LSnG6AOiEGczys6gu92ooUnAR04JPODycXpaEJ4vQIPkK4/s1600/Photo+on+2011-11-11+at+07.32.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMFyCTs_BLWrRgtYV3llvfQnIDBnfU4EFPo8mMrSumO-jgM7-nhziMQ18_8wrN1HF8XbE3lG0xK9JYyedStJT4n5LSnG6AOiEGczys6gu92ooUnAR04JPODycXpaEJ4vQIPkK4/s320/Photo+on+2011-11-11+at+07.32.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673773103653452498" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:85%;" >This picture doesn't do the height justice, there's a cup under my hair.</span><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:Calibri, Verdana, Helvetica, Arial;font-size:180%;" ><span style="font-size: 11pt;">When I got in my car this morning, I bonked my hair and managed to honk the horn at the same time. </span></span><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:Calibri, Verdana, Helvetica, Arial;font-size:180%;" ><span style="font-size: 11pt;"> Have a great Friday.</span></span> <!--EndFragment--><br /></div>Amy Batemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06856309972170497076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29193335.post-29825425544163889892011-11-08T18:15:00.000-08:002011-11-08T18:23:14.432-08:00<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large; ">Tiny Tribute to My Dra</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large; "><br /></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-1tijZEUkv-o5_3gbEYID1bwHf3tWE9oIPWmYiFykxVfTupTDN6Xsk9YT6XeeOzSrwGSdZv4OKmyXKTWk53hmC8iCIFpnQaSaltXLUUIBDJ8o79zNtzWciWU42VIzC7mANtTP/s1600/P6170427.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-1tijZEUkv-o5_3gbEYID1bwHf3tWE9oIPWmYiFykxVfTupTDN6Xsk9YT6XeeOzSrwGSdZv4OKmyXKTWk53hmC8iCIFpnQaSaltXLUUIBDJ8o79zNtzWciWU42VIzC7mANtTP/s320/P6170427.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672814280929421042" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">You're always happy to cheer on the mutton busters. Why do we struggle to take good pictures of the two of us? Remember when the lady lost her shoe?</div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU9oZXbEoGJP3vQvAKRJHIc0yEepAmw9Uta8dOIKjliKmhgvhIApI11u1iz92ZYKfLpVzozSU1M6D48dGWpMAdMJlDaLPXlQkUOnaxwQiFZNMiHnnNv5tLXHbbgpGhsf-MsIl7/s1600/PA230495.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU9oZXbEoGJP3vQvAKRJHIc0yEepAmw9Uta8dOIKjliKmhgvhIApI11u1iz92ZYKfLpVzozSU1M6D48dGWpMAdMJlDaLPXlQkUOnaxwQiFZNMiHnnNv5tLXHbbgpGhsf-MsIl7/s320/PA230495.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672814276572157458" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">You're always up for something fun, and it's always so much more when you're with me.</div></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2N7bPOdTBzviMwes8GUjcL4DAvl61n2KuxCwXoW3V0CG5k2xF6sIc8veRzjuby6TUmWrBG5oo6BXz1j6D9Id3ddLjhMhaCTdv5GYX30PmtnEFZ-6B0sk5-wT0Qg_zw7CKV8AW/s1600/DSC03083.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2N7bPOdTBzviMwes8GUjcL4DAvl61n2KuxCwXoW3V0CG5k2xF6sIc8veRzjuby6TUmWrBG5oo6BXz1j6D9Id3ddLjhMhaCTdv5GYX30PmtnEFZ-6B0sk5-wT0Qg_zw7CKV8AW/s320/DSC03083.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672814264354669794" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">You're always with me during the hardest things I do in life. I couldn't ask for a kinder more thoughtful person to have on my side no matter what.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH0is3HaTNquQwnZiv5dlAHu6teI9vcOU4CGxK_uiAy2Ba9UK0Ul6JZp6xgKQNugUk-7CPHXvrT_lZEt5nKUi3HmOoXWuHc5sRknci8qyl1qhyphenhyphend40BPjo6BMWtvEJBWf355n3i/s1600/P7290182.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH0is3HaTNquQwnZiv5dlAHu6teI9vcOU4CGxK_uiAy2Ba9UK0Ul6JZp6xgKQNugUk-7CPHXvrT_lZEt5nKUi3HmOoXWuHc5sRknci8qyl1qhyphenhyphend40BPjo6BMWtvEJBWf355n3i/s320/P7290182.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672814257938245890" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">You make me laugh harder than I think is possible. I'm so proud of you in this picture.</div></div>Amy Batemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06856309972170497076noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29193335.post-38866131497261049942011-11-06T08:45:00.000-08:002011-11-06T11:37:46.932-08:00<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:x-large;">Latelys:</span></div><div><br /></div><div>1) Four grants down, one left to write ... </div><div><br /></div><div>2) Girls night out? I loathe them. I'm surrounded by girl idiots at all times. The other night, I convinced myself that I need to work on being nice to girls outside my usual circle, so I got it together and went to a girls-only get together. I was really struggling after we ate disgusting homemade english muffin pizzas, then I got pulled into a corner and asked how my love life was going, then I was forced to sit in front of a t.v. that was insultingly playing a soap opera. I was ready to kill everyone in the room just to climb over their dead bodies and get out. I begged them to watch something else, pointed out that we could be watching Extreme Animal Phobia, and convinced the room of screaming girls that it'd be way more entertaining than a soap opera. On the show, one lady was deathly afraid of spiders, and she was forced to complete a task where she carried a tarantula from one container to another. Again, the room of girls was screaming, I was laughing, then I hear one winner cry out, "Wait! Are those trained spiders?!" Forehead slap. See? Idiots.</div><div><br /></div><div>3) Andrea turns 25 this week. I cried while running on the treadmill yesterday morning. Why? Shrug. Dra's going to be 25? It just got to me.</div><div><br /></div><div>4) Toby calls everyone Amy, and I love love love it.</div><div><br /></div><div>5) Our stake halloween party was a huge success. Being in charge of the food wasn't too bad. My buddy Kolten and I paraded around in our matching pink pegasus costumes, learned the sweet moves to Thriller, and repeatedly raced through the huge blowup obstacle course. We might have thought it was a great idea to race backwards, but I managed to slam right into a girl version of Monstro. Oops. I was fine, she was fine, so it was all just hilarious. I would have beat him though.</div><div><br /></div><div>6) Went paintballing for the first time yesterday. Drive out there: 20 minutes. Gear: $26. Excuse to shoot a guy who has a girlfriend yet kept telling me how hot I looked all decked out: Priceless</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Amy Batemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06856309972170497076noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29193335.post-3818947284415660772011-10-23T18:32:00.000-07:002011-10-23T18:47:16.288-07:00<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large; ">Brotherly Sisterly Hike</span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj8vcalJEuxMm9f1Swn_rNlOGZtRGgFvHzz6xzmyU6crxt7Je_SKN9fby5rBUbdzMNIIKwGF-8t9wShmPVz1-_4gaoblMvE8yFbSAAgAldJHomQV-0RkwuIVIGMZfXCa7jz-bR/s1600/PA220499.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj8vcalJEuxMm9f1Swn_rNlOGZtRGgFvHzz6xzmyU6crxt7Je_SKN9fby5rBUbdzMNIIKwGF-8t9wShmPVz1-_4gaoblMvE8yFbSAAgAldJHomQV-0RkwuIVIGMZfXCa7jz-bR/s320/PA220499.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666867924470632498" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgTru5L3THTLPLoou_YpmnhQqtGByGP3f-iZTFg_5aTYZGHrwMaG94GX0VWwf9ZZC5vACeiYjZKWXRXjePjqTlU9FZl_z4SRIGkwkMdXzMSG6QSTn0zC38O_EHuG7hGbiTkDtc/s1600/PA220497.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgTru5L3THTLPLoou_YpmnhQqtGByGP3f-iZTFg_5aTYZGHrwMaG94GX0VWwf9ZZC5vACeiYjZKWXRXjePjqTlU9FZl_z4SRIGkwkMdXzMSG6QSTn0zC38O_EHuG7hGbiTkDtc/s320/PA220497.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666867919823183954" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">This was on our way down, but we stopped to take some pictures. Some guy sneered, "What, do you see an animal or something?" Uh, does there have to be an animal to take a picture?</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4FtHPxIt0OyOZ7jLzsfGwi5sHkSRlLr1lkCdzTZSWOzb41bPLgTdZ-tqBcX57GcWl9JyzpN6Dx06i-mAY94Xki2zkAeuGP5FtevZYFcrmXWJWfVmbQGibzlRHv46KUnt_qll1/s1600/PA220490.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4FtHPxIt0OyOZ7jLzsfGwi5sHkSRlLr1lkCdzTZSWOzb41bPLgTdZ-tqBcX57GcWl9JyzpN6Dx06i-mAY94Xki2zkAeuGP5FtevZYFcrmXWJWfVmbQGibzlRHv46KUnt_qll1/s320/PA220490.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666867902746014914" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoaGrE4UsnVhxUYKq_M9y3k7zq9JJcaOT1dBVdFHiOSu50RUZub_SURz3hmy9SMHbsVTYklyy2lGgALuNtkLL5Oo9ksN08142NIPJ0yYNO66UIPC4lNDKvWZnvNpi0ZQBt7IlW/s1600/PA220489.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoaGrE4UsnVhxUYKq_M9y3k7zq9JJcaOT1dBVdFHiOSu50RUZub_SURz3hmy9SMHbsVTYklyy2lGgALuNtkLL5Oo9ksN08142NIPJ0yYNO66UIPC4lNDKvWZnvNpi0ZQBt7IlW/s320/PA220489.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666867898096277122" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYuBfqrEmdnAhklB0Jn8uJv-0DnmDj1-hFYmF4iQYxX78pWa0-khKzzQ0Kw_fGJ5XnMJzn4ntQ_ljQ7Hgj4yP6YuTTua5OUUYe-_tb4bAhZVqzHn4RpoDIFTPwCjdyD6jCKEuR/s1600/PA220487.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYuBfqrEmdnAhklB0Jn8uJv-0DnmDj1-hFYmF4iQYxX78pWa0-khKzzQ0Kw_fGJ5XnMJzn4ntQ_ljQ7Hgj4yP6YuTTua5OUUYe-_tb4bAhZVqzHn4RpoDIFTPwCjdyD6jCKEuR/s320/PA220487.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666867893909311522" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">My favorite part of the hike was teaming up with Zach and teasing Em about her irrational fear of skinwalkers. </div><div>Em: "Seriously, if I was on this hike by myself right now, my number one fear would be skinwalkers."</div><div>Me: "Not bears?"</div><div>Zach: "Who's the most famous skinwalker? Walker Texas Ranger."</div>Amy Batemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06856309972170497076noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29193335.post-23724120668864967832011-10-23T18:14:00.001-07:002011-10-23T18:27:27.517-07:00<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large; ">Once upon a time, we went to the circus.</span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT7yr5_lJ1Si1DM4_g6B3W1nqlatDAACo1bWPgbZObn9mb6cOC5ni1DwBtYknAwVXIdGqqQRiN43vBjH0wvqJqzEOOyBN5InFaLWLgdsEFfZLgaVKu6RihIJY5hVrE-PPNWYDZ/s1600/P9240482.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT7yr5_lJ1Si1DM4_g6B3W1nqlatDAACo1bWPgbZObn9mb6cOC5ni1DwBtYknAwVXIdGqqQRiN43vBjH0wvqJqzEOOyBN5InFaLWLgdsEFfZLgaVKu6RihIJY5hVrE-PPNWYDZ/s320/P9240482.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666862885578821474" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">In trying to take a picture of ourselves and jumping the gun before the flash was done flashing, we captured this. I love love love this picture. </div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8ZHMzNe8GLEAgNZBFUxnt8zk9VHi3gRoOscBwrDgxuemicV5IAJNarKdOZzq75-121_uF5de3cnHbSNIYB2WZU344A9PpXz8jldfM1TCXwc-L_g5D8EpzDmvVLTCfzOHDLVQJ/s1600/P9240483.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8ZHMzNe8GLEAgNZBFUxnt8zk9VHi3gRoOscBwrDgxuemicV5IAJNarKdOZzq75-121_uF5de3cnHbSNIYB2WZU344A9PpXz8jldfM1TCXwc-L_g5D8EpzDmvVLTCfzOHDLVQJ/s320/P9240483.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666862882840351074" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">One of our best attempts.</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_o_TBB-W02_lde82T7uIvWZmK6e-9QEcETLChsRQPs1wkcGIj4oyXw0rbkrrnuCHZXiZZXDVTymu8wCDjAM2r2yQqIrxIO0p_0WS_cgauNbu2ntV381WjGXRzBZAiQvQ5T56W/s1600/P9240485.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_o_TBB-W02_lde82T7uIvWZmK6e-9QEcETLChsRQPs1wkcGIj4oyXw0rbkrrnuCHZXiZZXDVTymu8wCDjAM2r2yQqIrxIO0p_0WS_cgauNbu2ntV381WjGXRzBZAiQvQ5T56W/s320/P9240485.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666862876361478386" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">The only picture of the actual circus I took. I was too amazed by all the hullaballoo to worry about busting out my camera. My favorite was when a guy exploded out of a cannon, but he was on fire! "I did not expect that!" I kept shouting to Dra over the loud music. Truly is the greatest show on earth.</div>Amy Batemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06856309972170497076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29193335.post-36921198561873550392011-10-08T21:52:00.000-07:002011-10-08T22:03:14.529-07:00<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzmwEut_fzsdUcmcHjyYZhyJwPWkwRApNzH3-CCulUoH3DSdRZXeHfCd4dolf94peKUdYSfNeTKoXU' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><div><br /></div><div>What can I work on while I fake like I'm watching the Fast Five with my roommates? How about a video of some fun summer stuff? I gave myself away when I laughed, then they noticed I had headphones in. I'm not sorry.</div><div><br /></div><div>Special thanks goes to:</div><div>* Cherry Hill</div><div>* Lake Powell</div><div>* Utah State Fair</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Amy Batemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06856309972170497076noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29193335.post-55095999452717981962011-09-21T21:02:00.000-07:002011-09-21T21:03:24.761-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqRtzwBYKGQqG6osNAJCywulfGUo-l_MYtCyGY4LdDGYVAbs7vwlUCOttiRRakGrEY6mX5FbVo4H__1uZhTp9Gct1-1c9-J699_L-fjEtZmnYBaWMj6dOOae03VgG_LG2JsFoJ/s1600/P9210481.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqRtzwBYKGQqG6osNAJCywulfGUo-l_MYtCyGY4LdDGYVAbs7vwlUCOttiRRakGrEY6mX5FbVo4H__1uZhTp9Gct1-1c9-J699_L-fjEtZmnYBaWMj6dOOae03VgG_LG2JsFoJ/s320/P9210481.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655029501520911634" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;">This little lady turned 21 today. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;">I would lasso the moon for her</span>.</div>Amy Batemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06856309972170497076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29193335.post-84096300191096022202011-08-31T21:34:00.000-07:002011-08-31T21:38:00.778-07:00<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;">Baby Abey Turns 3</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;">
<br /></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP4w6ADnvpJTfYFsSjmTn5jT_a5fgyBhrenntvVqOXpF9Ss-jM8UR5eTEg-DU2KeZhu7vjlYuiSO1RTMyA_QWGIOGQMIUDjAWV66V5bRAgfVK0uvycz4Xw7KFiUHBM94ue-RWa/s1600/Me+%2526+Abe.jpeg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP4w6ADnvpJTfYFsSjmTn5jT_a5fgyBhrenntvVqOXpF9Ss-jM8UR5eTEg-DU2KeZhu7vjlYuiSO1RTMyA_QWGIOGQMIUDjAWV66V5bRAgfVK0uvycz4Xw7KFiUHBM94ue-RWa/s320/Me+%2526+Abe.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647245311388050962" /></a>
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1_pZxQgakp9Krypa7OJAIvJ84tYVLjL0rkLF3qGI65K1WZSh16rw_H-FaTM-BHEb9YNCyXDso8k9eUSU4g0ABewWxmmhhgoGZzORfHKJO-5P457vhAiyD1f1WJjuBja4te1jN/s1600/P8270405.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1_pZxQgakp9Krypa7OJAIvJ84tYVLjL0rkLF3qGI65K1WZSh16rw_H-FaTM-BHEb9YNCyXDso8k9eUSU4g0ABewWxmmhhgoGZzORfHKJO-5P457vhAiyD1f1WJjuBja4te1jN/s320/P8270405.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647245306777091282" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">How can you not adore this kid?</div>Amy Batemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06856309972170497076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29193335.post-5075410864360740482011-08-21T10:29:00.000-07:002011-08-21T10:39:08.029-07:00<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;">Mona Rope Swing</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;">
<br /></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioFrlT074Lkc8-GlBlDDfixmnG1zNyxUDLjIQ3JRA2MGq7v_G25f8S_uQIEIq79Fo3eqvHX9c-1QcuDwEvo7RdzgzZF5iZrEm7CuJNqUIOJE1sLdyoicW-HpjoMw05sDm3fRO0/s1600/P8200364.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioFrlT074Lkc8-GlBlDDfixmnG1zNyxUDLjIQ3JRA2MGq7v_G25f8S_uQIEIq79Fo3eqvHX9c-1QcuDwEvo7RdzgzZF5iZrEm7CuJNqUIOJE1sLdyoicW-HpjoMw05sDm3fRO0/s320/P8200364.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643362826505308578" /></a>
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipy37mXVaNWDuKYDIymq2QYdiSm4Uus1FuEW9jO623jI-kEMgpqWXJMLEpZhUq9f7lT6sLMGyJ_XEjFmCaiOXvXKChkmo7oKImcuTjG0CpiQAGZuyA9W6eTn3wQbk8i92r6Fi_/s1600/P8200362.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipy37mXVaNWDuKYDIymq2QYdiSm4Uus1FuEW9jO623jI-kEMgpqWXJMLEpZhUq9f7lT6sLMGyJ_XEjFmCaiOXvXKChkmo7oKImcuTjG0CpiQAGZuyA9W6eTn3wQbk8i92r6Fi_/s320/P8200362.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643362825132606114" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Isn't this little froggy so cute? </div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div>We always have fun at the rope swing: fishy water gets up our nose, some stranger always belly flops, people always get rope burn because they lack the upper body strength to hold on so they just slide down the gross rope ... However, this trip had some unique instances.</div><div><ul><li>Boys threw eggs at each other as they did tricks off of the rope swing. One boy got hit right in the tender bottom.</li><li>A girl who stood for a good 15 minutes trying to muster up the courage to jump out of a tree ended up slipping and falling and landing back first in the water. </li><li>A crazy dog ran around barking and growling at us. The dog's owner had shark teeth.</li><li>Found the above froggy, a little boy might have smushed it trying to play with it.</li><li>Tried out the mini rope swing, not so fun. Em tried to swing on it in a circle back to shore with no success.</li></ul></div>Amy Batemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06856309972170497076noreply@blogger.com2