<?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-973358931666974176</id><updated>2011-09-30T11:28:28.866-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Grandma Tell Me A Story</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>117</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-2616383361643137851</id><published>2011-05-01T15:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-02T12:37:34.178-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life Begins in Thousand Oaks</title><summary type='text'>As I return back to my history, we had just moved to Thousand Oaks, California.  The community at this time was relatively small, about thirty-five thousand.  We liked that.  The house we rented was older, but quite adequate for our family.  I only wished it had had a family room ... then it would have been perfect.  Well maybe not quite perfect because I really hated trying to keep that </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/2616383361643137851/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=2616383361643137851&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/2616383361643137851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/2616383361643137851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2011/05/life-begins-in-thousand-oaks.html' title='Life Begins in Thousand Oaks'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-3313889249636502029</id><published>2011-04-29T17:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-30T13:46:59.381-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So Blessed</title><summary type='text'>It's been a long dry spell of blogging for me.  It's time to get started again, especially since it was one of my New Year's resolutions.  And in just two days it will be May.  A little slow getting started I would say.  But before I continue with writing about my life, I have to write about this incredible month of April, 2011, in which I experienced so many blessings and so many answers to </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/3313889249636502029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=3313889249636502029&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/3313889249636502029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/3313889249636502029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2011/04/so-blessed.html' title='So Blessed'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-4283010635271640239</id><published>2010-09-12T16:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-12T17:47:25.116-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thousand Oaks - Our New Home</title><summary type='text'>It was the end of summer of 1969 when we began looking for a home close to Canoga Park where Jim had been transferred.  We had been successful in selling our home in Novato which had been left  in such bad shape.  We were not able to make any profit on the house due to the cost of repairs and realtor fees, so we knew we would have to rent again even though we had been paying on that house for </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/4283010635271640239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=4283010635271640239&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/4283010635271640239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/4283010635271640239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2010/09/thousand-oaks-our-new-home.html' title='Thousand Oaks - Our New Home'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-1448841141005946390</id><published>2010-08-30T16:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-30T18:43:44.874-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Saying good-bye to Huntington Beach</title><summary type='text'>Random memories associated with our 2 years in Huntington Beach include:     * Being a "widow" with 6 kids much of the time     * Kathi's beginning love affair with guinea pigs &amp; learning that they can't be left out in the        sun very long (especially  if they are black)     * Young Jim's love affair with books (or most likely his love of competition)     * Debbie's continuing love of dancing</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/1448841141005946390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=1448841141005946390&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/1448841141005946390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/1448841141005946390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2010/08/saying-good-bye-to-huntington-beach.html' title='Saying good-bye to Huntington Beach'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-7698376326242000528</id><published>2010-08-30T10:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-30T11:52:16.104-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Test of Faith</title><summary type='text'>SUNDAY, AUGUST 29, 2010 &lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  I was not the only one to have a church leadership problem in Huntington Beach. I only include these negative experiences because I want anyone who reads this blog, especially my family, to know that we all have experiences in this life that could test our testimony of the truth if we let them. Priesthood leaders are not perfect. They make mistakes. </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/7698376326242000528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=7698376326242000528&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/7698376326242000528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/7698376326242000528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2010/08/another-test-of-faith.html' title='Another Test of Faith'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-7657618310254543358</id><published>2010-06-13T16:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-18T20:57:21.112-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Challenging Times</title><summary type='text'>The two years we spent in Huntington Beach had some difficult times for me. I think the hardest part was having Jim gone so often on business/training trips. Some were in the states (Florida and Hawaii were two that I remember) but others were in the far east. I remember Florida and Hawaii because I really wanted to go with him. But there were always money concerns and where could I find anyone </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/7657618310254543358/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=7657618310254543358&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/7657618310254543358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/7657618310254543358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2010/06/challenging-times.html' title='Challenging Times'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-4772764981407986807</id><published>2010-05-25T14:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-10T11:10:31.225-07:00</updated><title type='text'>More about Huntington Beach</title><summary type='text'>Making new friends has always been difficult for me and caused some anxiety when we moved to Huntington Beach.  But one neighbor who lived right next door became and instant friend.  I wish I could remember her name.  This is one of the most frustrating things about getting old ... memory loss.  And it is names of people that seem to go first.  Anyway, she was very special in today's world where </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/4772764981407986807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=4772764981407986807&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/4772764981407986807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/4772764981407986807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2010/05/more-about-huntington-beach.html' title='More about Huntington Beach'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-1632270892428244963</id><published>2010-05-20T14:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-23T21:26:08.261-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Huntington Beach</title><summary type='text'>The move to Huntington Beach was as uneventful as a move can be.  The children were young enough not to be  inseparably attached to friends.  They adjust easily to new circumstances and make new friends pretty easily.  It was not so easy for me.  I am, by nature, not an outgoing person, and it takes  me a while to make friends.  It seems that when I do begin establishing some close relationships,</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/1632270892428244963/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=1632270892428244963&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/1632270892428244963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/1632270892428244963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2010/05/huntington-beach.html' title='Huntington Beach'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-2965202811499906585</id><published>2010-05-16T19:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-17T12:06:42.676-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A New Adventure Begins</title><summary type='text'>It's been three or four blogs back that I introduced our "miracle baby", Jon.  Every new baby is truly a miracle, but Jon was a special gift that I never expected.  We were happy for another boy so that Jim would now have a brother to play "boy" things with, even if he was five years younger.  Sisters are great, but four of them (three of them older) can be a little uncooperative when a guy wants</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/2965202811499906585/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=2965202811499906585&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/2965202811499906585'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/2965202811499906585'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2010/05/new-adventure-begins.html' title='A New Adventure Begins'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-5677473115784555329</id><published>2010-04-04T18:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-01T15:07:54.735-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Easter Reflections</title><summary type='text'>Today is Easter Sunday ... a  day of feeling love and appreciation for our beloved Savior and His great sacrifice for me and all of His children.  And today has been a day of reflection for me regarding my own life.  Have I adequately shown my love and gratitude to Him by the life I live each day?  Have I sacrificed enough?  Served enough?  Do I love all of His children enough?  Am I obedient to </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/5677473115784555329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=5677473115784555329&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/5677473115784555329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/5677473115784555329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2010/04/easter-reflections.html' title='Easter Reflections'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-7420383178783106266</id><published>2010-02-28T18:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-28T19:22:59.025-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sacrifice Brings Forth the Blessings of Heaven</title><summary type='text'>I took time off from writing my story to reflect on this past year's Christmas experience and to share one of the lessons in life that I'm slowly beginning to learn after nearly fifty-five years of motherhood - taking time to enjoy the beautiful world Heavenly Father has placed us all in.  Now I need to get back to my life after our "miracle" baby was born.       Jon was a beautiful blond baby </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/7420383178783106266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=7420383178783106266&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/7420383178783106266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/7420383178783106266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2010/02/sacrifice-brings-forth-blessings-of.html' title='Sacrifice Brings Forth the Blessings of Heaven'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-8736265433249619203</id><published>2010-02-05T12:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-06T14:43:14.234-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Smell the Roses</title><summary type='text'>I just had to write this morning even though I was committed to getting my much-needed housework done today.  I know I promised in my last blog to continue on where I left off  on my history way back in November  after taking time to reflect on my Christmas experience.  But today as I sat eating breakfast and watching the birds out my kitchen window another "reflection" flooded my brain, and I </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/8736265433249619203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=8736265433249619203&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/8736265433249619203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/8736265433249619203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2010/02/smell-roses.html' title='Smell the Roses'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-7500454953261587893</id><published>2010-01-15T10:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-15T17:15:44.051-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Makings of a Spiritual Christmas</title><summary type='text'>I feel a little ashamed that it has been nearly two months since my last entry.  I guess that traditionally at this time of year, the approaching holiday season, my focus and energy turns to preparing the many things that are a part of Christmas.  There are of course the gifts to be made or purchased, especially for the children, decorating the house inside and out, baking for all the neighbors, </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/7500454953261587893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=7500454953261587893&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/7500454953261587893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/7500454953261587893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2010/01/makings-of-spiritual-christmas.html' title='The Makings of a Spiritual Christmas'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-4068457881964012612</id><published>2009-11-23T16:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-23T16:34:33.733-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Miracle Baby</title><summary type='text'>Before I go on to tell about our "miracle baby", a few more memories of our time in Novato have come floating into my mind. It was here that we made one of our first big purchases, a piano. Music has always been important in my life. I have never been blessed with musical talent, but I have always had a love for and an appreciation of good music. I had always wanted my children to have the </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/4068457881964012612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=4068457881964012612&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/4068457881964012612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/4068457881964012612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2009/11/miracle-baby_23.html' title='Miracle Baby'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-4809866099854245955</id><published>2009-11-02T12:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T14:35:22.355-08:00</updated><title type='text'>More Memories of Novato</title><summary type='text'>The nearly five years we spent in Novato holds many special memories for me. Here are a few that come to mind.  Watching the twins grow up.  Twins have a totally different way of maturing than a single child.  It was fascinating to watch.  They were best friends and never needed any one else to play with.  They developed their own language which only they could understand, and communicated with </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/4809866099854245955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=4809866099854245955&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/4809866099854245955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/4809866099854245955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2009/11/more-memories-of-novato.html' title='More Memories of Novato'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-6173425481685903297</id><published>2009-10-12T09:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-12T09:28:36.573-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wake Up And Smell the Roses</title><summary type='text'>&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  I’d like to fast forward forty-six years for this blog because of the significance of an event a week or so ago that has had a definite impact on my life … an impact in the sense of how it has changed my perspective on what is really important and the changes I need to make in my life even at this late date.  Two weeks ago I had a TIA (mini-stroke) that landed me in the </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/6173425481685903297/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=6173425481685903297&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/6173425481685903297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/6173425481685903297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2009/10/wake-up-and-smell-roses.html' title='Wake Up And Smell the Roses'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-6349312262979745639</id><published>2009-09-09T16:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-27T21:02:12.226-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Church is the Same Wherever You Go, Only Different</title><summary type='text'>Having grown up in Salt Lake City I was used to our many church buildings being being only a few blocks apart and they were all complete buildings with a chapel, cultural hall with stage, multiple classrooms, junior Sunday School room (Primary was during the week)and offices for several bishops.  It had been a little different in Klamath Falls where there were fewer members and only one church </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/6349312262979745639/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=6349312262979745639&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/6349312262979745639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/6349312262979745639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2009/09/church-is-same-wherever-you-go-only.html' title='The Church is the Same Wherever You Go, Only Different'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-3993758620890106262</id><published>2009-09-04T12:39:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-04T16:36:08.122-07:00</updated><title type='text'>And Then There Were More ... Frogs, That Is.</title><summary type='text'>The scenario of frogs at our new location continued on when the girls discovered that rocks next to their sandbox was home to a bunch of adult frogs.  It didn't take them long to figure out that by spraying the rocks with a stream of water from the hose the frogs would hop out of their safe seclusion right into the hands of happy waiting playmates.  The frogs soon had names and elaborate tunnels </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/3993758620890106262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=3993758620890106262&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/3993758620890106262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/3993758620890106262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2009/09/and-then-there-were-more-frogs-that-is.html' title='And Then There Were More ... Frogs, That Is.'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-5101359226058677651</id><published>2009-08-20T15:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-20T17:05:43.878-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Frogs, Frogs, and More Frogs!!</title><summary type='text'>As we walked closer to our motel room door with its' overhead light, we could see what had been moving in the dark.  It wasn't just a thing.  It was many "things" ... many, many, many things.  I felt like I had just walked out into one of the Moses' plagues in Egypt.  There were frogs everywhere ... hopping up and down the sidewalks, in the grass, and in the parking lot.  The kids were ecstatic.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/5101359226058677651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=5101359226058677651&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/5101359226058677651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/5101359226058677651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2009/08/frogs-frogs-and-more-frogs.html' title='Frogs, Frogs, and More Frogs!!'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-4575002457207722555</id><published>2009-08-12T16:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-12T17:00:22.770-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Novato??? What the Heck is Novato?</title><summary type='text'>Things got a bit easier as the twins grew big enough to sit and play in a borrowed playpen.  They seemed happy to just sit and play together with their toys unless, of course, they both wanted the same toy at the same time.  Jeanie and Debbie were now both in school for part of the day, and Kathi was still taking an afternoon nap which meant that, if I was lucky, the twins would go to sleep at </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/4575002457207722555/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=4575002457207722555&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/4575002457207722555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/4575002457207722555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2009/08/novato-what-heck-is-novato.html' title='Novato??? What the Heck is Novato?'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-3254310280028726941</id><published>2009-08-04T11:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-04T14:46:39.134-07:00</updated><title type='text'>More Challenges With Twins</title><summary type='text'>It didn't take long before I realized I had new problems to solve having two babies.  Without any of the new "necessary" baby equipment that is available today (carriers, newborn seats that can be moved around the house, "bouncy" chairs, swings that play music, bath equipment, etc. etc.), I had to be innovative or just plain frustrated.  How do I have the babies in the same room where I was </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/3254310280028726941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=3254310280028726941&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/3254310280028726941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/3254310280028726941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2009/08/more-challenges-with-twins.html' title='More Challenges With Twins'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-7422174514230202150</id><published>2009-07-31T14:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-01T11:26:28.469-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Homecoming. A New Challenge Begins.</title><summary type='text'>Three excited little girls welcomed home their new siblings, Jonita Rochelle, and James Richard Jr.,  We felt so blessed to be able to bring them both home on the same day.  We were well equipped with the basic necessities for two newborns because of the "twin insurance" offered by Sears Roebuck and Co.  If you had previously ordered a baby layette through their catalogue they would add a second </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/7422174514230202150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=7422174514230202150&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/7422174514230202150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/7422174514230202150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2009/07/happy-homecoming-new-challenge-begins.html' title='Happy Homecoming. A New Challenge Begins.'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-6340277833746260557</id><published>2009-07-18T12:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-24T15:44:15.918-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Out of the Hole!</title><summary type='text'>It's time to get out of the negative and return to my happy life.  It's been a tough two months dealing with my depression problems, but I feel I am now out of that deep black hole that only you who have been there can understand.  Have I learned from this experience?  Of course.  Although I know that clinical depression is an illness similar to diabetes in that both are caused by a lack of </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/6340277833746260557/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=6340277833746260557&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/6340277833746260557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/6340277833746260557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2009/07/out-of-hole.html' title='Out of the Hole!'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-9212255178296178945</id><published>2009-07-05T11:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-05T12:25:09.750-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Digging my hole deeper</title><summary type='text'>I imagine that for most mothers Mother's Day is a favorite holiday.  It would mean a day off from regular household duties, gifts, and maybe even breakfast in bed, that is if you have a husband like mine.  He has always gone the "extra mile" to ensure my day would be special.  That included making (yes, making) carnation corsages and boutonnieres for me and the children ... white for me and him </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/9212255178296178945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=9212255178296178945&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/9212255178296178945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/9212255178296178945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2009/07/digging-my-hole-deeper.html' title='Digging my hole deeper'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-8268458803456823500</id><published>2009-06-21T11:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-23T11:42:09.072-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Long Climb Up</title><summary type='text'>It's hard to know where to begin.   I realize how long it's been since I dumped my feelings of stress which was bringing me down to that dreaded depression to which I am so susceptible.  I realized that God much have known what was ahead for me when way back in March, maybe even in February, Cathy (Mortensen) called and asked if I would like to go to Women's Conference with her at the end of </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/8268458803456823500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=8268458803456823500&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/8268458803456823500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/8268458803456823500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2009/06/long-climb-up.html' title='The Long Climb Up'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-1157880472002550460</id><published>2009-05-18T11:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T11:12:34.506-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Ups and Downs in Life</title><summary type='text'>I thought I might divert from my personal life history for a minute since I have my twins home safely from the hospital and I didn't leave everyone "hanging" in my last blog.  The past few weeks have been a series of ups and downs, highs and lows, and just plain crazy.  I feel that my expanding on a few of these feelings and emotions may give my readers some insight into my nature, personality, </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/1157880472002550460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=1157880472002550460&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/1157880472002550460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/1157880472002550460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2009/05/ups-and-downs-in-life.html' title='The Ups and Downs in Life'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-6401090251251826722</id><published>2009-04-28T22:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-28T23:43:10.644-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Miracle</title><summary type='text'>     The joy of having twins was shattered when the pediatrician came in the day after their birth to tell me that our little girl, Jonita Rochelle, which we had named her had a serious heart problem.  There was a hole in her tiny heart.  He had called in a heart specialist who observed her since the day she was born hoping that the hole would close on its own as if often does in new infants.  </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/6401090251251826722/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=6401090251251826722&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/6401090251251826722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/6401090251251826722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2009/04/miracle.html' title='A Miracle'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-4039683530340384126</id><published>2009-04-20T11:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T12:36:29.134-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just When You Think All Is Well</title><summary type='text'>I arrived at the hospital at about ten in the morning as did another of my doctor's patients...and the race was on.  I handed the admitting nurse the card with the scribbly  "Z" on the back as instructed by my doctor over a month before.  I now realized that that "Z" was really a coded "2" so that the nurses would be alerted to the fact that I would be having two babies.  I hoped that this </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/4039683530340384126/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=4039683530340384126&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/4039683530340384126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/4039683530340384126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2009/04/just-when-you-think-all-is-well.html' title='Just When You Think All Is Well'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-5805962131273831241</id><published>2009-04-12T20:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-12T21:34:34.821-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Twins?  You've got to be kidding.</title><summary type='text'>     I wasn't too fond of my obstetrician.  He didn't have much of a bedside manor with his patients.  On a scale of 1 to 10 I'd say he rated a low 2.  But I guess he didn't have to have a great re pore with any of us because there was no other choice.  He was the only OB - GYN in Klamath Falls and had all the patients he could handle.  If you didn't like him the only other choice was to go to a </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/5805962131273831241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=5805962131273831241&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/5805962131273831241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/5805962131273831241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2009/04/twins-youve-got-to-be-kidding.html' title='Twins?  You&apos;ve got to be kidding.'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-1083887352457532188</id><published>2009-03-31T10:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-31T11:28:57.646-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A New Year's Eve to Remember</title><summary type='text'>It was New Year's Eve!  The weeks of preparing for the joint adult and Young Men, Young Women dance had culminated in a space theme celebration.  Since both Jim and I worked in the youth program, we had a major part in the planning and decorating for this event.  We had had a rocket and satellite building contest a few weeks before which provided decorations which we hung from the ceiling.  In </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/1083887352457532188/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=1083887352457532188&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/1083887352457532188'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/1083887352457532188'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2009/03/new-years-eve-to-remember.html' title='A New Year&apos;s Eve to Remember'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-6208243797643422891</id><published>2009-03-23T09:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T10:28:12.486-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Move Into Town</title><summary type='text'>Klamath Falls was not too big years ago, so there wasn't a big choice of rental homes.  We were anxious to get settled before school started in the fall.  We had enjoyed our little home  in Wocus and had made new friends.  But it was just to far out of town.  I felt a little isolated out there without a car to go anywhere.  And we did need to be closer to a school.  We finally found a small home </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/6208243797643422891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=6208243797643422891&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/6208243797643422891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/6208243797643422891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2009/03/move-into-town.html' title='The Move Into Town'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-8211291704815391643</id><published>2009-03-08T21:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-08T22:24:24.975-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Elephants In The Back Yard</title><summary type='text'>One of the first things we did after moving to Wocus was get a dog.  The children had wanted a pet for some time, but living in apartments made it impossible.  We rescued a small shepherd mix from the local pound, and he became an instant friend to the children...me, too.  I  have always loved animals, any animal, but especially dogs.  From this time on it seems we always had pets of some kind.  </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/8211291704815391643/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=8211291704815391643&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/8211291704815391643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/8211291704815391643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2009/03/elephants-in-back-yard.html' title='Elephants In The Back Yard'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-4420409359644007962</id><published>2009-03-03T11:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-03T12:05:28.642-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome to Oregon</title><summary type='text'>It was dark, cold, and snowy when we pulled into the small town of Klamath Falls, Oregon.  I had been sick the week before we had to leave California and was now sporting a huge cold sore which covered my whole upper lip clear up to my nostrils.  I was pretty miserable.  To top it off Kathi, now just a year and a half old,  got really sick on the way.  She was running a fever and throwing up </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/4420409359644007962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=4420409359644007962&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/4420409359644007962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/4420409359644007962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2009/03/welcome-to-oregon.html' title='Welcome to Oregon'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-5366264504349010813</id><published>2009-02-22T15:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T22:39:48.561-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Off To California</title><summary type='text'>It's been quite a few blogs ago that I left the story of my life and went on to things that were happening in the present.  When I left you last, Jim had just graduated from the University of Utah with a degree in electrical engineering.  He accepted a job with Hughes Aircraft Company in Los Angeles, California as a field engineer.  I wasn't too sure what a "field engineer" did at first, but I </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/5366264504349010813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=5366264504349010813&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/5366264504349010813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/5366264504349010813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2009/02/off-to-california.html' title='Off To California'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-2604973179302999595</id><published>2009-01-25T11:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-02T13:26:19.106-08:00</updated><title type='text'>God is Still in Charge</title><summary type='text'>The Christmas season is over.  The welcoming lights on the neighbor's homes and throughout the community have gone out leaving a sense of darkness and even a little gloom.  The house once dressed in it's holiday refinery now looks bare and empty.  All the decorations are packed up and in put away in the attic....that is, except for the last few things I missed like the mistletoe ball that hung </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/2604973179302999595/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=2604973179302999595&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/2604973179302999595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/2604973179302999595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2009/01/god-is-still-in-charge.html' title='God is Still in Charge'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-7581901503551784757</id><published>2009-01-18T19:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-18T21:38:52.248-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Love You, Mom</title><summary type='text'>Today has been a day of reflection and sweet memories.  My thoughts have been of my mother who would have been  100 years old today had she lived.  But her life ended fifty-five years ago, just five months after I was married.  And that was ten years longer than the doctor had predicted because of her badly damaged heart.  It was her strong faith, her love of family, and her desire to see her </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/7581901503551784757/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=7581901503551784757&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/7581901503551784757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/7581901503551784757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-love-you-mom.html' title='I Love You, Mom'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bMtr5qFLFSE/SXQRj3RGWVI/AAAAAAAAABw/JoNfy3VNLEo/s72-c/Brnrds1e-small.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-3541558149907800609</id><published>2008-11-30T21:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-30T22:27:48.025-08:00</updated><title type='text'>First Day of Advent - 2008</title><summary type='text'>Today I have been feeling somewhat nostalgic and, yes, a little melancholy.  Although it's technically still November (November 30) it is the first day of advent, the four Sundays preceding the celebration of the birth of our Saviour, Jesus Christ.  I remember when our children were still at home how I looked forward to those four Sunday evenings together when I could get away from the stresses </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/3541558149907800609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=3541558149907800609&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/3541558149907800609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/3541558149907800609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2008/11/first-day-of-advent-2008.html' title='First Day of Advent - 2008'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-2107509017695040429</id><published>2008-11-17T10:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-17T10:10:23.689-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'></summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/2107509017695040429/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=2107509017695040429&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/2107509017695040429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/2107509017695040429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2008/11/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-5054448029476750437</id><published>2008-11-17T09:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-17T10:09:21.411-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Offer!!!</title><summary type='text'>With graduation in sight we began fantasizing about being able to buy a home of our own.  It turned out to be just that...a fantasy.  But it was fun driving around looking for homes for sale.  I only remember one that was really my "dream house".  It was at top of one of the Avenues in Salt Lake.  The "Avenues" were streets named "A", "B", "C" etc. which ran north from South Temple to the top of </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/5054448029476750437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=5054448029476750437&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/5054448029476750437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/5054448029476750437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2008/11/offer.html' title='The Offer!!!'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-8802296952251274525</id><published>2008-11-02T19:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-02T20:47:16.777-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Where Do We Go for Help?</title><summary type='text'>Jim's car accident was quite a blow, but we were thankful that he wasn't hurt and that it happened so close to graduation...we were only about two months away.  We would soon have a livable salary (we hoped and prayed for a good job offer), and we would get caught up with all our bills.   But then came another hard blow.   The senior electrical engineering students were informed that they would </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/8802296952251274525/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=8802296952251274525&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/8802296952251274525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/8802296952251274525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2008/11/where-do-we-go-for-help.html' title='Where Do We Go for Help?'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-5587741345749100043</id><published>2008-10-26T18:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-26T19:11:13.090-07:00</updated><title type='text'>An apology</title><summary type='text'>So sorry it has been so  long since you've heard from me on this blog...especially since I left you "hanging".  I could take the time to give you all of my excuses, but I'm sure that would be very boring.  On second thought, this might be a good time to at least explain part of the problem.  It would come up later, anyway a little later in my life story. Some of you who know me may be aware that </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/5587741345749100043/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=5587741345749100043&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/5587741345749100043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/5587741345749100043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2008/10/apology.html' title='An apology'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-3621915013106526768</id><published>2008-09-21T20:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-02T19:45:04.305-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Things Get Tough(er)</title><summary type='text'>Life was indeed more difficult for me with three little ones to care for. Walks to the park became less and less. It was just too much work. And even necessary trips to the grocery store were an ordeal rather than a welcomed excuse to get out of the house. Going to church was even worse on the Sundays that Jim had to work. Trying to keep a three-year old, a two-year old, and a baby quiet and </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/3621915013106526768/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=3621915013106526768&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/3621915013106526768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/3621915013106526768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2008/09/things-get-tougher.html' title='Things Get Tough(er)'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-1394866607800714354</id><published>2008-09-07T19:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-07T21:05:30.925-07:00</updated><title type='text'>And Then There Were Three</title><summary type='text'>Since I got off my story line in my last blog, I'm sure you wondering if Jim and I ever resolved the problem with my dad. I have to admit that it was Dad that made the first step by having my brother deliver a bushel of peaches to my door a few weeks later. Many nowadays don't even know how much a bushel is. It is a lot! Since few people can fruit anymore, they by fruit by the pound or, at most, </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/1394866607800714354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=1394866607800714354&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/1394866607800714354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/1394866607800714354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2008/09/and-then-there-were-three.html' title='And Then There Were Three'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-7294977246434110009</id><published>2008-08-28T16:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-28T17:06:03.272-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Perfectionist?</title><summary type='text'>I'm sure that you along with me I grew up with the old adage, "If it's worth doing, it's worth doing well".  I know my parents quoted that to me very often, and I grew up believing it.  My parents didn't lie.  Then many years later at Jeanie's graduation from college, the commencement speaker gave a talk part of which has stayed with me until this time.  How unlikely is that for a usually long </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/7294977246434110009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=7294977246434110009&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/7294977246434110009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/7294977246434110009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2008/08/perfectionist.html' title='Perfectionist?'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-8291607002854299786</id><published>2008-08-18T12:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-19T20:22:37.339-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Good, the Bad, and the Downright Ugly</title><summary type='text'>The second semester of Jim's third year had just begun. He was enjoying this year because he was well into his major, electrical engineering. He was already familiar with much of the material he was now studying because of his four years of training and experience in the Air Force. However, of the 250 students who were accepted into the Electrical Engineering Department with Jim, less than 100 </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/8291607002854299786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=8291607002854299786&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/8291607002854299786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/8291607002854299786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2008/08/good-bad-and-downright-ugly.html' title='The Good, the Bad, and the Downright Ugly'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-1409805956309548190</id><published>2008-08-10T19:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-10T20:44:15.849-07:00</updated><title type='text'>We're Halfway There</title><summary type='text'>We had reached the half-way mark of Jim's college education and we knew now that we could finish.  We both had the determination not to quit no matter how difficult the challenges would become.  I know I have talked about some of the difficulties I faced, but I know Jim probably faced even more even though he never complained.  Someday I hope I can convince him to write about his own thoughts and</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/1409805956309548190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=1409805956309548190&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/1409805956309548190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/1409805956309548190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2008/08/were-halfway-there.html' title='We&apos;re Halfway There'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-2386718415422603143</id><published>2008-07-27T18:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-27T20:58:06.928-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Financial Struggles</title><summary type='text'>Doing the laundry for my family always seemed to be a challenge in my life. Now with two "babies" (age 16 months and newborn) in diapers there was always lots of washing to be done. And living in a second story apartment with stairs on the outside and a second set of stairs to get to the basement where the washing machine was presented a new challenge for me. Just getting down there with all the </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/2386718415422603143/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=2386718415422603143&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/2386718415422603143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/2386718415422603143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2008/07/financial-struggles.html' title='Financial Struggles'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-4310077704592422871</id><published>2008-07-20T17:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-20T19:12:22.326-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New Moms Have It "Easy"</title><summary type='text'>Having spent time last month with two of my daughters (Lea and Carrie) who had just had new babies made me reflect on how much things have changed since my own little ones were born. First of all, the normal hospital stay was three days. Now, barring no complications, you are home in one. I guess this was a good thing for me because I had no one to help me once I got home. We were instructed by </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/4310077704592422871/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=4310077704592422871&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/4310077704592422871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/4310077704592422871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2008/07/having-spent-time-last-month-with-two.html' title='New Moms Have It &quot;Easy&quot;'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-1887705878594659833</id><published>2008-06-15T15:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-25T11:50:20.647-07:00</updated><title type='text'>We Are Blessed....Again!</title><summary type='text'>I think that first semester of school was the hardest for both of us. It took us those first four months to get used to a totally new schedule and for Jim to get used to the rigors of studying, taking classroom notes, and doing projects after a four-year absence from school. But by February of 1955, the beginning of the new semester, I began to feel even more stressed. Being in that dark </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/1887705878594659833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=1887705878594659833&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/1887705878594659833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/1887705878594659833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2008/06/we-are-blessedagain.html' title='We Are Blessed....Again!'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-6574127905472238370</id><published>2008-06-05T22:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-07T11:44:03.686-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Our School Life Begins</title><summary type='text'>It took us several months to get used to our new schedule, and we began to realize just what sacrifices we would have to make. For Jim, it was getting used to studying again, finding time to study, working hard until 11:00 at night when he was dead tired, and not being at home enough to watch the new things his little girl would do almost daily as she developed new skills. For me it was hardly </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/6574127905472238370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=6574127905472238370&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/6574127905472238370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/6574127905472238370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2008/06/our-school-life-begins.html' title='Our School Life Begins'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-4550097130341038514</id><published>2008-05-16T07:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-26T20:54:29.510-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Challenges of a New Mom - Decisions, Decisions</title><summary type='text'>It was on the way home from the hospital with this new little life in my arms (no car seats were required. In fact, they were probably still just a thought on someones creative mind) that reality set in. I was a mom!!! Jim and I would be responsible not only for the health and well being of this little person but for what she would become. That thought was so overwhelming for a very young twenty </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/4550097130341038514/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=4550097130341038514&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/4550097130341038514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/4550097130341038514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2008/05/motherhood-is-not-so-easy.html' title='Challenges of a New Mom - Decisions, Decisions'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-4314152211486860821</id><published>2008-05-11T16:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-11T19:10:14.517-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"Who Are These Children Coming Down?"</title><summary type='text'>The last few weeks have been wonderfully extraordinary for me with the birth of three beautiful new special spirits into our family. First there was grandson, Wesley, born on April 12 to Carrie and Todd, followed my great granddaughter, Jaycee, who arrived on May 2. Her parents are Rachael and Rod Gardner. Then just six days later another granddaughter, Sierra, joined the Lea and Paul's family. </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/4314152211486860821/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=4314152211486860821&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/4314152211486860821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/4314152211486860821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2008/05/last-few-weeks-have-been-especially.html' title='&quot;Who Are These Children Coming Down?&quot;'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-2698290466404214244</id><published>2008-05-04T13:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-04T15:10:01.224-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My First Birthing Experience</title><summary type='text'>Thoughts of my mother became less painful as I began to focus on preparing for the upcoming birth of my first baby which was now only two months away.  Except for frequent bouts with my skin allergy, all had gone well.  My thoughts often drifted to wondering whether we would have a girl or a boy (no ultra sounds back then) and what he/she would look like.  I imagined this dark-haired, (lots of it</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/2698290466404214244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=2698290466404214244&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/2698290466404214244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/2698290466404214244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2008/05/my-first-birthing-experience.html' title='My First Birthing Experience'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-2908815992735997434</id><published>2008-04-18T10:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-19T10:47:22.457-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Realizing the Vital Role of Mother</title><summary type='text'>It had only been five short months since my mother had stood in the line at my wedding...only twenty short years that my mother had been part of my life, and a very long two months since I said good-bye for the last time at the airport. I didn't know it would be the last time because I already had in my mind that I would take my newborn to California to see her. I remember her getting on the </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/2908815992735997434/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=2908815992735997434&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/2908815992735997434'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/2908815992735997434'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2008/04/realizing-vital-role-of-mother.html' title='Realizing the Vital Role of Mother'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-8413037230674603633</id><published>2008-04-10T12:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-10T15:03:04.845-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life With All Its' Challenges Goes On</title><summary type='text'>Being "first time" pregnant is not easy for anyone, I'm sure.  But being in the military made it even more challenging.  There wasn't the comfort of a familiar family doctor or ob-gyn.  There was just the  impersonal and emotionally uninvolved doctor who had probably used the military as a way of financing his medical school and was now just "serving his time".  And the medical facilities at the </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/8413037230674603633/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=8413037230674603633&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/8413037230674603633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/8413037230674603633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2008/04/life-with-all-its-challenges-goes-on.html' title='Life With All Its&apos; Challenges Goes On'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-4806660475048782021</id><published>2008-04-03T11:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-03T15:31:45.137-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Up and Down, Up and Down,  oooops!</title><summary type='text'>Beginning married life didn't come without challenges. Being there was no "breaking-in" time on a honeymoon we jumped right into a daily routine which began the week following our wedding. For Jim it was up at 6:00 A.M. in order to be at work at the base (Hill Air Force Base) by 7:00. Wanting to be the perfect wife, I, too, was up to fix him breakfast, pack him a lunch, and give him a kiss </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/4806660475048782021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=4806660475048782021&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/4806660475048782021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/4806660475048782021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2008/04/up-and-down-up-and-down-oooops.html' title='Up and Down, Up and Down,  oooops!'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-2984768435613822845</id><published>2008-03-24T14:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-24T17:17:58.447-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Great Escape</title><summary type='text'>Our wedding reception went as planned, without incident.  Jim was so handsome in his tux.  Mom rested all day after the temple so she could be there.  It was only the second time I had seen her in a long dress with her hair in an "updo" AND a little makeup to help her look less pale and gaunt from her progressing illness.  The first time was at my sister's wedding.  I noticed that she looked so </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/2984768435613822845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=2984768435613822845&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/2984768435613822845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/2984768435613822845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2008/03/great-escape.html' title='The Great Escape'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-2334960960577897027</id><published>2008-03-09T21:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-10T11:29:46.030-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Wedding Day</title><summary type='text'>For a month or so before the wedding, Mom had been encouraging me to have a perm. I had thin, very straight hair that refused to hold a curl for more than a day without re-setting. I had never had a perm, not even a "home" one because I equated a perm with frizzy uncontrolled hair and I wanted not part of it. I wanted to look the best I could for my husband on our wedding day. I resisted all </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/2334960960577897027/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=2334960960577897027&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/2334960960577897027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/2334960960577897027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2008/03/wedding-day.html' title='The Wedding Day'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-70080020987259070</id><published>2008-02-28T14:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-29T18:27:53.040-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Those Last Few Days Before the BIG ONE</title><summary type='text'>You'll never guess what my number one priority on my "to do" list was after my sweetheart was home. Was it taking pictures that could be used for the newspaper account of our wedding? Was it finding a place to live in Ogden which was the closest town to Hill Air Force Base? Was it having Jim see about renting tuxes for himself and his best man, his brother Rudy? Was it formally asking my father's</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/70080020987259070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=70080020987259070&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/70080020987259070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/70080020987259070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2008/02/those-last-few-days-before-big-one.html' title='Those Last Few Days Before the BIG ONE'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-6256450231033432539</id><published>2008-02-19T14:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-28T14:29:31.998-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Home at Last</title><summary type='text'>The second week in April came and went...no plane to bring Jim home from the Philippines. Then came week three and well into week four and still no plane with available passenger space. Things were becoming a little scary. It was too late to change our wedding plans as the invitations had already gone out. During that long wait, Jim received a change of orders for his next assignment. Instead of </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/6256450231033432539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=6256450231033432539&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/6256450231033432539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/6256450231033432539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2008/02/home-at-last.html' title='Home at Last'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-9149340536470091970</id><published>2008-02-02T14:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-03T21:58:35.828-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Day For Reflection</title><summary type='text'>I just spent the morning watching the funeral of our beloved prophet, Gordon B. Hinckley. As I listened to speakers reflect on his life, his many contributions to the growth of the Church, his love for all mankind and his humanitariun efforts to help those suffering throughout the world tears began to flow. My reaction surprised me. Why was I feeling this sudden sadness and loss when I was </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/9149340536470091970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=9149340536470091970&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/9149340536470091970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/9149340536470091970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2008/02/day-for-reflection.html' title='A Day For Reflection'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-4643046842133086273</id><published>2008-01-31T11:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-19T14:32:45.692-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Trial or Blessing ?</title><summary type='text'>I was so excited when I received a call from the Philippines. I knew it was Jim, and I knew he must have something very important to tell me because it was expensive to make those long-distance calls. First of all he told me that he had received the papers for his next assignment. We would be going to Wurtsmith Air Force Base in Oscoda, Michigan for his last year of duty. In spite of his telling </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/4643046842133086273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=4643046842133086273&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/4643046842133086273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/4643046842133086273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2008/01/trial-or-blessing.html' title='Trial or Blessing ?'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-7823615978291594738</id><published>2008-01-27T18:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-31T12:43:48.947-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Wedding Plans</title><summary type='text'>Days didn't seem to drag anymore as the excitement of Jim coming home and the "busyness" of planning a wedding took over. I had to order flowers, look at wedding cakes, find a photographer, decide on what what to serve....etc. etc. But my biggest dilemma was still what to do about a wedding dress. My prayers where answered when one of my mom's best friends, Thelma Strong, volunteered to let me </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/7823615978291594738/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=7823615978291594738&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/7823615978291594738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/7823615978291594738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2008/01/wedding-plans.html' title='Wedding Plans'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-8856053277170623950</id><published>2008-01-18T11:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-27T18:51:44.074-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Excitement Begins</title><summary type='text'>January, 1954, was a special month! Jim was given his "return to the states" date which was the first of April. We could now set a wedding date, and we did - May 7. I could now begin planning in earnest. The first thing I did was to contact LeGrande Richards, an apostle, and also a good friend of my father. Although it had been many years since he had been my dad's bishop and mission president, </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/8856053277170623950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=8856053277170623950&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/8856053277170623950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/8856053277170623950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2008/01/excitement-begins.html' title='The Excitement Begins'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-1198666593234148476</id><published>2008-01-13T18:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-13T19:50:41.807-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Days Drag On - Protected Again</title><summary type='text'>The summer turned into fall and then into winter.  The days and months still seemed to drag, and it was only the letters and frequent gifts from Jim made my days exciting and happy.  Some of those gifts were beautiful linens, a feathery scarf made of banana leaf fibers, an embroidered evening purse fashioned of fine linen, and fringed Japanese tapestry (table cloth?) that we used once for a </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/1198666593234148476/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=1198666593234148476&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/1198666593234148476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/1198666593234148476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2008/01/days-drag-on-protected-again.html' title='Days Drag On - Protected Again'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-1860211180893057725</id><published>2008-01-09T11:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-09T12:38:58.543-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Longest Year of My Life</title><summary type='text'>Nineteen fifty three was the longest year of my life.  I was home from school, and that was a nice break from the stress of studying, writing papers, and especially TESTS!  And I enjoyed spending more time with Mom.  I knew her days were numbered by the fact that I had been called home twice during the school year as Mom had been rushed to the hospital and was not expected to live.  But both </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/1860211180893057725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=1860211180893057725&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/1860211180893057725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/1860211180893057725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2008/01/longest-year-of-my-life.html' title='The Longest Year of My Life'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-3084231810657072982</id><published>2007-12-24T11:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-24T13:33:43.353-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Finding Christ at Christmas</title><summary type='text'>It's the day before Christmas, 2007.  It's my seventy third Christmas...fifty fifth as an "adult".  And still I struggle with the same earnest desire to become so close to my Savior that I can feel Him close to me, feel His love and peace, and more importantly feel the deep love and gratitude I know I should have for Him and my Father in Heavenly for the great sacrifice they both made that I </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/3084231810657072982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=3084231810657072982&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/3084231810657072982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/3084231810657072982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2007/12/finding-christ-at-christmas.html' title='Finding Christ at Christmas'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-7378332783214956020</id><published>2007-12-02T09:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-02T16:40:41.817-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Most Important Decision of my Life</title><summary type='text'>I enjoyed my new classes at BYU following Christmas break, but as for my social life, that was a different story. I had no desire to date, so I just concentrated on my studies. That quarter I took an archery class along with my academics. My dad was an archer and made all his own equipment including his bows and arrows. He had taught me how to shoot when I was pretty young, and even made me my </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/7378332783214956020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=7378332783214956020&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/7378332783214956020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/7378332783214956020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2007/12/most-important-decision-of-my-life.html' title='The Most Important Decision of my Life'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-1592412672172636423</id><published>2007-11-25T19:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-25T22:38:11.239-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Time to Count Your Blessings</title><summary type='text'>During this Thanksgiving week my thoughts have frequently turned to the many blessings I have received throughout my life...not just the big obvious ones that we often dwell upon but the small daily gifts that we way too often overlook. Then today our lesson in Relief Society from Elder Henry B. Eyring's conference address, "O Remember, Remember" reinforced what I have been thinking. Every night </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/1592412672172636423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=1592412672172636423&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/1592412672172636423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/1592412672172636423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2007/11/time-to-say-thanks.html' title='Time to Count Your Blessings'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-202656933448886447</id><published>2007-11-11T20:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-11T22:55:19.589-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dating Can Be Fun?????</title><summary type='text'>College was more difficult than I expected, especially since I was (am) such a perfectionist.  Anything less than an "A" on any paper or especially on an exam was very traumatic for me.  It  didn't take too much effort in high school to get A's, but now it was a different story.  I don't remember my grades that year, but I'm sure it they weren't a 4.0.  And trudging to class at 7:30 in the </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/202656933448886447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=202656933448886447&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/202656933448886447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/202656933448886447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2007/11/dating-can-be-fun.html' title='Dating Can Be Fun?????'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-7703586202896644980</id><published>2007-11-08T09:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-08T11:54:09.479-08:00</updated><title type='text'>BYU Here I Come</title><summary type='text'>Tearfully I said good-bye to Jim and began packing to go off to college. Several friends from school and I rented a little old run-down house (all we could afford) about a mile from campus. None of us had a car so we needed a place within walking distance. A few days before school started we took in a "cutie", Carolyn Joyner, from South Carolina who was desperately looking for a place to live. </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/7703586202896644980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=7703586202896644980&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/7703586202896644980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/7703586202896644980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2007/11/byu-here-i-come.html' title='BYU Here I Come'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-5913259126683506815</id><published>2007-10-30T11:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-30T12:51:46.543-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Seeds of Love are Planted</title><summary type='text'>The summer following my high school graduation was very eventful.  My Uncle LeGrande (my dad's younger brother) and his wife, Aunt Myrt, treated me and my sister, Georgia, to a trip to Southern California.  They had recently moved there with their two small children and were anxious to show us the sights of their new city.  It was my first time to see the Pacific Ocean, or any ocean for that </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/5913259126683506815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=5913259126683506815&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/5913259126683506815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/5913259126683506815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2007/10/seeds-of-love-are-planted.html' title='The Seeds of Love are Planted'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-5077731485737953681</id><published>2007-10-21T21:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-27T12:16:17.012-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Last Memories of Childhood</title><summary type='text'>Thinking back to the many changes and advancements in technology that have occurred in my lifetime, I stand in awe and amazement. I thought of some things that were so different at home and at school as I was growing up. And risking that you may think that I am much older than I really am (73 years young and not born in the Stone Age) I'll share a few of those things that have changed so much.   </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/5077731485737953681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=5077731485737953681&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/5077731485737953681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/5077731485737953681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2007/10/last-memories-of-childhood.html' title='Last Memories of Childhood'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-7031294517559197250</id><published>2007-10-14T21:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-14T23:07:15.756-07:00</updated><title type='text'>An End to Childhood</title><summary type='text'>I guess I was kind of excited at beginning my final year of high school.  However, there were still twinges of disappointment at being a senior in high school instead of a freshman at the University of Utah. AND, although I hated to admit it, I found myself looking to catch a glimpse of Jim on the bus or walking down the halls at school.  I didn't see him at church anymore because the ward had </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/7031294517559197250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=7031294517559197250&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/7031294517559197250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/7031294517559197250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2007/10/end-to-childhood.html' title='An End to Childhood'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-830709903874566094</id><published>2007-10-12T16:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-12T17:38:31.299-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life Is Full of Joys and Disappointments</title><summary type='text'>It was in my junior year that a new program was introduced at Granite High School.  Known as the Civil Air Patrol (CAP for short), it introduced a class in aviation for the first time.  The program was kind of like ROTC  but was civilly rather than military program the purpose of which was to train cadets for air search and rescue.  I was instantly interested in the program because I always had a</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/830709903874566094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=830709903874566094&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/830709903874566094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/830709903874566094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2007/10/life-is-full-of-joys-and.html' title='Life Is Full of Joys and Disappointments'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-63988758181750942</id><published>2007-10-07T17:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-07T18:31:21.214-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Spiritual Feast</title><summary type='text'>My, how with age comes increased knowledge and understanding, increased faith in and testimony of the Savior and His restored church, and an increased desire to learn at the feet of God's chosen prophets, seers and revelators.  As I listened to the sessions of general conference this weekend, my thoughts drifted back to my early childhood and up to my teen years.  I hated those conference </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/63988758181750942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=63988758181750942&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/63988758181750942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/63988758181750942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2007/10/spiritual-feast.html' title='Spiritual Feast'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-6857628639078127549</id><published>2007-10-01T11:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-01T14:49:20.383-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Flame Begins to Flicker</title><summary type='text'>The trip to California on a Greyhound bus seemed long and boring. There was really no one to talk to because I was traveling alone and no one interesting occupied the seat next to me. Christmas with my family had been special as usual, but the "high" of preparing for and celebrating on that day was beginning to wear off. But I was excited about taking my first trip to California, Walnut Creek in </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/6857628639078127549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=6857628639078127549&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/6857628639078127549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/6857628639078127549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2007/10/flame-begins-to-flicker-and-die.html' title='The Flame Begins to Flicker'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-5099089811138933861</id><published>2007-09-25T12:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-25T23:13:44.289-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Day at the Bakery</title><summary type='text'>I worked my first two years in high school at Dunford Bakery in Sugarhouse. That chain still exists today. If you can picture a waitress in a restaurant in the early fifties, that would be how we had to dress...stiff white dress with maroon cuffs and collar and a little maroon head piece. The uniforms were provided but kept at the store. So we had to change when we went to work.My first </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/5099089811138933861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=5099089811138933861&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/5099089811138933861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/5099089811138933861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2007/09/day-at-bakery.html' title='A Day at the Bakery'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-2961567644628040378</id><published>2007-09-21T14:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-23T16:46:06.281-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Haunting Day in My Life</title><summary type='text'>I have heard and read that when writing about your life you should not just include the things that make you look good. You should include the less than positive experiences that will make the reader know that you were human, that you made mistakes, and that hopefully you learned from those mistakes. I've mentioned several of those mistakes already, but I want to include an experience that I had </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/2961567644628040378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=2961567644628040378&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/2961567644628040378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/2961567644628040378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2007/09/haunting-day-in-my-life.html' title='A Haunting Day in My Life'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-6844154654151975335</id><published>2007-09-19T16:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-21T11:35:53.493-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Sophomore Year</title><summary type='text'>Although I was still a little apprehensive about starting high school, my sister, Georgia, had prepared me somewhat as to what to expect. She was a senior this year, as would have been my sister, Claire, had she not gotten married that summer. Claire was a year older than Georgia, but had been held back a year in elementary school. She married a returned missionary whom shehad dated a few times </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/6844154654151975335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=6844154654151975335&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/6844154654151975335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/6844154654151975335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2007/09/my-sophomore-year.html' title='My Sophomore Year'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-7676080965623709603</id><published>2007-09-18T12:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-18T22:51:00.865-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Boy, Have High Schools Changed!</title><summary type='text'>My, have high schools changed! As I began reflecting on my high school years, and looking through my old year books, even I had to smile. In some ways they were definitely better, and in others the schools today have the edge. Let me begin by describing Granite High School, my alma mater. It was about four miles from home and was one of the oldest high schools in Salt Late, consisting of three </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/7676080965623709603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=7676080965623709603&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/7676080965623709603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/7676080965623709603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2007/09/boy-have-high-schools-changed.html' title='Boy, Have High Schools Changed!'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-3839667257427212833</id><published>2007-08-30T19:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-31T13:20:43.584-07:00</updated><title type='text'>And Then There Was Nick</title><summary type='text'>As my three years in junior high school came to an end, I had for the first time a feeling of value and self-worth. That's what having a boyfriend did for me. He didn't care that I didn't wear Joyce shoes and Jantzen sweaters. He didn't care whether or not I was a good student (actually I was...almost a straight A). He didn't care that I lived in a rather modest home. He didn't care that I wasn't</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/3839667257427212833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=3839667257427212833&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/3839667257427212833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/3839667257427212833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2007/08/and-then-there-was-nick.html' title='And Then There Was Nick'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-7185513182325825854</id><published>2007-08-26T20:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-27T16:23:06.296-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My "prince" came along, and I didn't have to kiss a frog</title><summary type='text'>It was Sunday morning towards the end of the summer of 1948. As usual my family were at Church to attend Sunday School. Back then Sunday School and Priesthood meeting were held Sunday morning. Then we would go home and return later in the afternoon or early evening for Sacrament Meeting. The auxiliary organizations (Primary and Relief Society) were held during the week. That Sunday, which I </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/7185513182325825854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=7185513182325825854&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/7185513182325825854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/7185513182325825854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2007/08/my-prince-came-along-and-i-didnt-have.html' title='My &quot;prince&quot; came along, and I didn&apos;t have to kiss a frog'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-1770986578790798595</id><published>2007-08-20T11:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-23T15:14:13.196-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My First Crush</title><summary type='text'>I had a beautiful blond sister, three years older than me, who attracted boys like ducks to water. When she was just fifteen or sixteen years old you could their eyes following her as she walked by. And it was not just the teenagers with raging hormones either. "Older" men, who I'm sure thought she was older, were known to start up a conversation and even flirt a bit with her at church. I being </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/1770986578790798595/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=1770986578790798595&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/1770986578790798595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/1770986578790798595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2007/08/my-first-crush.html' title='My First Crush'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-159914344618798086</id><published>2007-08-16T17:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-24T11:34:29.463-07:00</updated><title type='text'>And You Think You Invented the Snipe Hunt</title><summary type='text'>As I heard and read of many of my granddaughter's girl's camp experiences this summer I was reminded of my own years as a member of the Church's Young Women's program. And yes, camping was part of the program even way back then. Having grown up in Utah, however, the Church owned their own campsite at Brighton in Big Cottonwood Canyon. If you're picturing a large area among big pine trees with </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/159914344618798086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=159914344618798086&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/159914344618798086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/159914344618798086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2007/08/and-you-think-you-invented-snipe-hunt.html' title='And You Think You Invented the Snipe Hunt'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-3786131078076074094</id><published>2007-08-15T11:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-15T14:14:46.161-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Elephants and Forget-me-nots!</title><summary type='text'>My three years in junior high school corresponded with my three years as a Beehive girl in the church YWMIA program.  Those initials stood for "Young Women's Mutual Improvement Association".  Although "Beehive" girls still exist in the program today, it was much different for us...much more involved, requiring three years to complete all the requirements to become an "Honor Bee".  Not everyone </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/3786131078076074094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=3786131078076074094&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/3786131078076074094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/3786131078076074094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2007/08/elephants-and-forget-me-nots.html' title='Elephants and Forget-me-nots!'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-8506342705377739542</id><published>2007-07-22T17:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-05T23:08:19.430-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Big Change in the Making</title><summary type='text'>It was during my second year at Olympus Jr. High that my parents decided to sell our house with half of the property and build a new one on the other. My brother, J.D., was going on seven years old and still had no bedroom of his own. I honestly don't remember where he was sleeping (neither does he) but I know it wasn't in us girl's room, so he either had to be in my parent's room or in the </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/8506342705377739542/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=8506342705377739542&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/8506342705377739542'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/8506342705377739542'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2007/07/big-change-in-making.html' title='A Big Change in the Making'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-8518351940800538332</id><published>2007-07-15T21:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-16T17:02:58.901-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Joyce and Jantzen</title><summary type='text'>First I apologize for not writing more often the past few weeks. I have been spending most of my free time sewing for Bethany's wedding. After the wedding I'll get back to writing more frequently.     Now back to life as a "teenager" in junior high school. I was excited about school most of the time, that is until I realized that just being a nice person just didn't make it with the "popular" or </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/8518351940800538332/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=8518351940800538332&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/8518351940800538332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/8518351940800538332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2007/07/joyce-and-jantzen.html' title='Joyce and Jantzen'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-1191134905552504939</id><published>2007-07-08T17:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-08T18:55:09.132-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You Might Not Believe It</title><summary type='text'>There were memorable experiences at Olympus Jr. High School...some good, others I would just as soon forget or at least not have to confess. I guess I don't have to admit to anything, I just choose to just in case you think I never yielded to temptation. I was once asked by one of my children if I ever did anything wrong in my life to which I answered, "Of course". But when I told her the first </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/1191134905552504939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=1191134905552504939&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/1191134905552504939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/1191134905552504939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2007/07/you-might-not-believe-it.html' title='You Might Not Believe It'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-2088706216914886622</id><published>2007-07-01T22:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-01T22:25:00.613-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'></summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/2088706216914886622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=2088706216914886622&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/2088706216914886622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/2088706216914886622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2007/07/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-7349635112226544482</id><published>2007-07-01T19:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-01T22:26:53.684-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh, Oh!</title><summary type='text'>I think (actually I know) that in my last blog I got some dates confused. You'll have to remember that I'm getting older by the day, and with age comes lost brain cells. So I 'd better hurry and finish my life history before I lose them all. Anyway...the war did end in 1945 (you probably already knew that), but I still had one more year of elementary school and one more year before the decision </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/7349635112226544482/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=7349635112226544482&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/7349635112226544482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/7349635112226544482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2007/07/oh-oh.html' title='Oh, Oh!'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-8487449416883455356</id><published>2007-06-27T20:11:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-27T21:19:28.200-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1945 Was An Eventful Year</title><summary type='text'>In May of 1945  I "graduated" from Sherman Elementary School.  There was no special programs, no sixth grade dance, no celebrations, and none were expected.  All the "hoopla" was saved for high school graduation.  Completing grade school was not considered that big an accomplishment.  Anyone can do that without much effort.  But I was excited to be going on to junior high school for the next </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/8487449416883455356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=8487449416883455356&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/8487449416883455356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/8487449416883455356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2007/06/1945-was-eventful-year.html' title='1945 Was An Eventful Year'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-9203365537621833823</id><published>2007-06-18T10:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-19T17:30:22.457-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Appreciating my Father</title><summary type='text'>As we celebrated Father's Day this week my thoughts drifted back in gratitude to my own father, what he taught me by word and example, and the many ways he showed his love to his family. It is a shame that too often we don't realize the impact a parent has had in our lives until we are adults and maybe even not until that parent is dead and it is too late to express our gratitude. In both those </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/9203365537621833823/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=9203365537621833823&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/9203365537621833823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/9203365537621833823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2007/06/appreciating-my-father.html' title='Appreciating my Father'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-5210359466304617438</id><published>2007-06-12T10:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-14T20:30:00.449-07:00</updated><title type='text'>More Holidays</title><summary type='text'>You might think that August has no special holidays. And I guess according to the calendar you are right. But as a child I considered "Dutch Lagoon Day" the best holiday of the year.  I'll bet you all that Christmas was my favorite.  It definitely is now, but as a child it was "Dutch Lagoon Day".Dutch Lagoon Day - For those that are not familiar with "Lagoon" it is an amusement park north of Salt</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/5210359466304617438/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=5210359466304617438&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/5210359466304617438'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/5210359466304617438'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2007/06/more-holidays.html' title='More Holidays'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-8842631733774215932</id><published>2007-06-06T15:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-11T11:11:49.473-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Loved the Holidays</title><summary type='text'>I always looked forward to holidays when I was a child. Some were more special than others, but all bring back memories of traditional observances and celebrations.New Years - Staying up until midnight when we were "old enough" to bang on pots and pans when the new year rolled in. My parents never went out to celebrate.Valentines - Sharing cards with friends at school and in the neighborhood. At </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/8842631733774215932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=8842631733774215932&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/8842631733774215932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/8842631733774215932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2007/06/i-loved-holidays.html' title='I Loved the Holidays'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-3677113675543709336</id><published>2007-06-06T09:44:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-08T09:11:20.823-07:00</updated><title type='text'>More M and M’s</title><summary type='text'>I couldn't end my elementary school years without including several more memorable events.My baptism on July 25, 1942. I was baptized in the font located in the basement of the Salt Lake Tabernacle (I bet most of you didn't even know that there was a baptismal font there) by my father, John Barend Bernards. There were not too many fonts, if any, located in church buildings like there are today, </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/3677113675543709336/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=3677113675543709336&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/3677113675543709336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/3677113675543709336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2007/06/more-m-and-ms.html' title='More M and M’s'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-1884868366514373753</id><published>2007-06-06T09:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-06T10:34:12.185-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Miscellaneous Mish Mash</title><summary type='text'>The way that a young child's mind works can at times be kind of humorous. Although thoughts that are triggered by what an adult may say seem rational and serious to a child (like me in the following instances) later become points of humor. Examples:What was said: "Always walk facing the oncoming traffic. What I thought: "How can you always face the oncoming traffic when cars are going            </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/1884868366514373753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=1884868366514373753&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/1884868366514373753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/1884868366514373753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2007/06/miscellaneous-mish-mash.html' title='Miscellaneous Mish Mash'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-103781683818518040</id><published>2007-05-29T18:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-29T18:50:13.809-07:00</updated><title type='text'>We Learned Patriotism</title><summary type='text'>As mentioned in my previous blog  “I felt the effects of war more in school than at home.”  Now let me explain.  Routine schedules and even some curriculum changed so war-supporting projects and patriotism could be introduced.  Every Friday was now designated as “War Bond” day.  Each child was given a stamp book which when filled with ten cent stamps equaling $18.00 was traded in for a War Bond </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/103781683818518040/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=103781683818518040&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/103781683818518040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/103781683818518040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2007/05/we-learned-patriotism.html' title='We Learned Patriotism'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-6593543476244730824</id><published>2007-05-20T20:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-20T20:48:46.211-07:00</updated><title type='text'>War Impacts Many Things</title><summary type='text'>Just as "9-11" immediately brings back to memory the horrifying events in New York City when the Twin Towers were brought down by terrorists, so does Dec. 7, 1941 bring back to my memory the surprise attack on Pearl Harbor by the Japanese which catapulted the United States into World War II.  I was only seven years old at the time, but I remember well the reaction of my parents when the news came</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/6593543476244730824/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=6593543476244730824&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/6593543476244730824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/6593543476244730824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2007/05/war-impacts-many-things.html' title='War Impacts Many Things'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973358931666974176.post-375198183917472864</id><published>2007-05-01T19:24:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-10T12:44:48.902-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dreams Do Come True!</title><summary type='text'>Tomorrow I leave for Hawaii! What is it about Hawaii that seems to make going there almost everybody's dream? Maybe it's because everyone that goes there comes back with pictures of green plush countryside, waterfalls, and flowers growing everywhere. Maybe it's because that is where so many couples honeymoon, so that must make it someplace very romantic. Maybe it's because it seems that everyone </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/375198183917472864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=973358931666974176&amp;postID=375198183917472864&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/375198183917472864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/973358931666974176/posts/default/375198183917472864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grandma-stories.blogspot.com/2007/05/dreams-do-come-true.html' title='Dreams Do Come True!'/><author><name>Grandma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09158520145933026222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l14/carrielundell/mom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
