<?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-4461919636247721472</id><updated>2011-10-02T06:04:19.042-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Granite and Sponges</title><subtitle type='html'>Sometimes life is hard.  Sometimes you run into an old softie.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Bobby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17863725503629640184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S_r7hL1ldRI/AAAAAAAAAJw/J8y6MNUSgsk/S220/DSC_1141.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>30</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461919636247721472.post-61771948149143741</id><published>2011-04-05T17:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-10T19:12:57.438-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Very Special Gift</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-36GNot577Xg/TZu9m-JSZBI/AAAAAAAAAOo/bcnYRLrjLb8/s1600/DSC_0096.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-36GNot577Xg/TZu9m-JSZBI/AAAAAAAAAOo/bcnYRLrjLb8/s320/DSC_0096.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592271839525233682" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WlAjg1-9aaM/TZu9matrmZI/AAAAAAAAAOg/hc3t67kCokw/s1600/DSC_0097.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WlAjg1-9aaM/TZu9matrmZI/AAAAAAAAAOg/hc3t67kCokw/s320/DSC_0097.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592271830014204306" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nqJyzfDI8HI/TZu9lz90oFI/AAAAAAAAAOY/zcC4vFTV-GU/s1600/DSC_0185.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nqJyzfDI8HI/TZu9lz90oFI/AAAAAAAAAOY/zcC4vFTV-GU/s320/DSC_0185.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592271819612921938" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rFefs00GLH0/TZu9lqdsMJI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/iTC6QiPCx_A/s1600/DSC_0198.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rFefs00GLH0/TZu9lqdsMJI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/iTC6QiPCx_A/s320/DSC_0198.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592271817062232210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vox6yjlh710/TZu8-ZGoRMI/AAAAAAAAAOI/k7AKKf_7pZY/s1600/DSC_0130.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vox6yjlh710/TZu8-ZGoRMI/AAAAAAAAAOI/k7AKKf_7pZY/s320/DSC_0130.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592271142387205314" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--PBF1uMTO_0/TZu8-IQuaxI/AAAAAAAAAOA/D0jgvEruB3c/s1600/DSC_0118.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--PBF1uMTO_0/TZu8-IQuaxI/AAAAAAAAAOA/D0jgvEruB3c/s320/DSC_0118.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592271137866148626" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mF7iNP8f5Io/TZu893bcJZI/AAAAAAAAAN4/tlWmhqlaoWg/s1600/DSC_0080.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mF7iNP8f5Io/TZu893bcJZI/AAAAAAAAAN4/tlWmhqlaoWg/s320/DSC_0080.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592271133347685778" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-y1XQUlej8xk/TZu89t_fgzI/AAAAAAAAANw/2n6p9xvPV80/s1600/DSC_0017.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-y1XQUlej8xk/TZu89t_fgzI/AAAAAAAAANw/2n6p9xvPV80/s320/DSC_0017.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592271130814546738" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-V8wHZuG3sxc/TZu89ZpsAKI/AAAAAAAAANo/WIfcO7Xzu6A/s1600/DSC_0011.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-V8wHZuG3sxc/TZu89ZpsAKI/AAAAAAAAANo/WIfcO7Xzu6A/s320/DSC_0011.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592271125354381474" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of Gifts.  Here is a very special one.  This wife of mine, Sharlene.  She takes this being a Grandmother very seriously.  It has been very heartwarming for me to watch as our three girls were preparing to be and have become little "Mommies".  There is a special bond that is there between Mother and Daughter.  Sharlene was able to be with Jacqueline and Pamela after their little ones came and plans to go to be with Annie after little Johnson is born.  She wants to be there to help and they seem to appreciate what is given.&lt;br /&gt;She also has been practicing quite some time on nieces and having "tea parties."  They are called "Tea Parties", but they rarely have tea.  But it is a fun time.  Now she is getting to have tea parties with her own grandchildren.  I think that makes her happy.  &lt;br /&gt;Most of all she is just special.  She just gives and gives and gives.  Many days she does not feel very well and she still does a lot of giving for her family, others she loves and to those who she feels are in need.&lt;br /&gt;She has been my very special gift.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4461919636247721472-61771948149143741?l=eezeekeezee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/feeds/61771948149143741/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4461919636247721472&amp;postID=61771948149143741' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/61771948149143741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/61771948149143741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/2011/04/very-special-gift.html' title='Very Special Gift'/><author><name>Bobby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17863725503629640184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S_r7hL1ldRI/AAAAAAAAAJw/J8y6MNUSgsk/S220/DSC_1141.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-36GNot577Xg/TZu9m-JSZBI/AAAAAAAAAOo/bcnYRLrjLb8/s72-c/DSC_0096.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461919636247721472.post-3548454193372422596</id><published>2011-04-05T09:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-10T19:12:12.250-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Gifts</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-s-Cbc5lrQKs/TZtIaH8MONI/AAAAAAAAANg/xKAW2L06jJg/s1600/DSC_0216.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-s-Cbc5lrQKs/TZtIaH8MONI/AAAAAAAAANg/xKAW2L06jJg/s320/DSC_0216.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592142975955908818" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God has given me many great gifts.  My Dad was one of the greatest.  I also have been given a great gift in my wife, Sharlene.  I am blessed to have three beautiful inside and out daughters.  God blessed me when my daughters found special mates.  And we have been and are being blessed with the grandchildren each family is bringing into this world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4461919636247721472-3548454193372422596?l=eezeekeezee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/feeds/3548454193372422596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4461919636247721472&amp;postID=3548454193372422596' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/3548454193372422596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/3548454193372422596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/2011/04/gifts.html' title='Gifts'/><author><name>Bobby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17863725503629640184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S_r7hL1ldRI/AAAAAAAAAJw/J8y6MNUSgsk/S220/DSC_1141.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-s-Cbc5lrQKs/TZtIaH8MONI/AAAAAAAAANg/xKAW2L06jJg/s72-c/DSC_0216.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461919636247721472.post-8994551211199199195</id><published>2011-02-13T13:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-13T13:43:46.324-08:00</updated><title type='text'>DD</title><content type='html'>No pictures.  My computer has not cooperated with operator.  I used to have initials for things.  They would mean special things to just me or just me and my family.  I am sure no one has been waiting 7 months for deep thoughts of infinite wisdom or humor so I will let you just think.  Man he is weeeerd!, some of you will say.  I can't agree more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4461919636247721472-8994551211199199195?l=eezeekeezee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/feeds/8994551211199199195/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4461919636247721472&amp;postID=8994551211199199195' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/8994551211199199195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/8994551211199199195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/2011/02/dd.html' title='DD'/><author><name>Bobby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17863725503629640184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S_r7hL1ldRI/AAAAAAAAAJw/J8y6MNUSgsk/S220/DSC_1141.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461919636247721472.post-2717363253899652767</id><published>2011-02-13T13:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-13T13:38:14.484-08:00</updated><title type='text'>2-14</title><content type='html'>90 years ago on Valentine's Day a little (he used to say )toehead was born about 6 miles east of Phillipsburg near the town of Gretna, Kansas.  When our family used to drive by the place where the windmill still stood from that farmstead I would many times say, "That is where Grandpa was born."&lt;br /&gt;Well, it is the second Valentine's day without him now.  Many of the memories are not as distinct as they were two years ago.  Some of the yearning to see and hear him though are so strong.  Lately the thought that I had a couple of months after we lost him of, "O.K. Dad you can come out of hiding now." has been going through my mind.  This morning in church (as it is many times while singing at church) we were singing, "When all of God's singers get home."  There is a part in the chorus where the bass hits a note and then drops down to a much lower note.  We came to that part and I just waited and wanted to hear that low note.  Like usual it just had to come from my mind because he was not there to hit it.  I looked down at my Mom and there was a tear in her eye.  She has been having a hard time lately with this.&lt;br /&gt;If Dad were here I know he would say to just move on. I think I am but it is no fun. &lt;br /&gt;I'll just say that I miss him a lot this February 14 as I am sure many of my family and those that knew him well do too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4461919636247721472-2717363253899652767?l=eezeekeezee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/feeds/2717363253899652767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4461919636247721472&amp;postID=2717363253899652767' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/2717363253899652767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/2717363253899652767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/2011/02/2-14.html' title='2-14'/><author><name>Bobby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17863725503629640184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S_r7hL1ldRI/AAAAAAAAAJw/J8y6MNUSgsk/S220/DSC_1141.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461919636247721472.post-8574307014919526983</id><published>2010-08-27T20:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-28T08:00:46.866-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Plethora</title><content type='html'>Isn't plethora a cool word?  I learned it from Jacqueline and Jordan.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4461919636247721472-8574307014919526983?l=eezeekeezee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/feeds/8574307014919526983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4461919636247721472&amp;postID=8574307014919526983' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/8574307014919526983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/8574307014919526983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/2010/08/plethora.html' title='Plethora'/><author><name>Bobby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17863725503629640184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S_r7hL1ldRI/AAAAAAAAAJw/J8y6MNUSgsk/S220/DSC_1141.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461919636247721472.post-2370982354761681305</id><published>2010-08-27T20:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-28T08:01:45.639-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Pal</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/THkEUwnwalI/AAAAAAAAAMI/mV7Z45LOeos/s1600/DSC_1534.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/THkEUwnwalI/AAAAAAAAAMI/mV7Z45LOeos/s320/DSC_1534.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510440373760059986" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/THkDnr87SUI/AAAAAAAAAMA/hj558uySZNs/s1600/DSCN3801.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/THkDnr87SUI/AAAAAAAAAMA/hj558uySZNs/s320/DSCN3801.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510439599412562242" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/THkDdKbGSpI/AAAAAAAAAL4/IbY6eCKJgsM/s1600/DSCN3805.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/THkDdKbGSpI/AAAAAAAAAL4/IbY6eCKJgsM/s320/DSCN3805.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510439418613615250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/THkDMX-E-rI/AAAAAAAAALw/B8fvCleIP30/s1600/DSCN3809.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/THkDMX-E-rI/AAAAAAAAALw/B8fvCleIP30/s320/DSCN3809.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510439130192214706" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday when I came home from work my pal was waiting for me.  I thought she was telling me that we needed to go to the lake and spend the night.  I was thinking to myself that I had a plethora of things to do, but spending the night at the lake sounds just great!  Well, I went downstairs and got a sleeping bag, a lawn chair (for relaxation) and an ice chest. I filled that ice chest full of coke and dog biscuits and some fried chicken.  It had been quite a while since we had taken a ride so we packed up and left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We drove to the lake.  It was a little windy.  Then we remembered the "Walden Pond" people who run the Kirwin National Wildlife Refuge do not allow camping at the lake so Maddie and I packed up and headed back.  I think she was thinking, "Well, I bet we could just sleep out on the deck in the backyard."  When we got home we set up shop on the deck.  It was just too noisy to sleep.  So inside we went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made us some stovetop somores and a little warm chocolate milk and we both went to sleep on the living room floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What an adventure!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4461919636247721472-2370982354761681305?l=eezeekeezee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/feeds/2370982354761681305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4461919636247721472&amp;postID=2370982354761681305' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/2370982354761681305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/2370982354761681305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/2010/08/my-pal.html' title='My Pal'/><author><name>Bobby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17863725503629640184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S_r7hL1ldRI/AAAAAAAAAJw/J8y6MNUSgsk/S220/DSC_1141.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/THkEUwnwalI/AAAAAAAAAMI/mV7Z45LOeos/s72-c/DSC_1534.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461919636247721472.post-1538660370788848995</id><published>2010-08-27T19:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-28T06:14:36.525-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Name</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/THkF2XxpfOI/AAAAAAAAAMY/XMseVS_B3c8/s1600/DSC_0062.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/THkF2XxpfOI/AAAAAAAAAMY/XMseVS_B3c8/s320/DSC_0062.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510442050717842658" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/THkFiWCCfVI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/bInFINzg5Ck/s1600/DSC_0141.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/THkFiWCCfVI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/bInFINzg5Ck/s320/DSC_0141.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510441706652335442" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that I have been told that my older brother John was named after our Great Grandfathers, John Keesee and Eli Haskett.  My middle name is the same as my Dad's.  Our name gives others something to call us and it is something that when we hear it we understand that we are being called.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get questions sometimes about my name.  "Do you want to be called Bob or Robert." I am sometimes asked.  I usually explain that I think if my Mom introduced me to someone my name was Robert.  If my Dad was the one who was presenting me to someone, my name was Bob.  I remember a very scary day when I was enrolling in Junior High School (that was what it was called back then) my Mom was asked the question of what I wanted to be called.  We looked at each other and said Robert.  So nearly everyone who went to school with me from that time on called me Robert.  Coaches usually call you by your last name, so the boys I was on the football or basketball team with called me Keesee.  When I was in college, most people called me Keesee.  My Grandma Keesee called me Bobby.  I still have some of my cousins that call be Bobby.  Megan and Clint sometimes call me Bobby.  Sharlene calls me Bob and Honey, of course, and sometimes other things that we will not go into now.  I bet my Dad introduced her to me.  I have been called a plethora of names including Koozie, Kooz, Keez and Bert.  Kandi, who works with me in the afternoon, just calls me Boss.  My girls call me Dad and Daddy.  All of the names mean something special to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I guess, I am acquiring a new name.  It is Pappy.  I am a grandpa, being called Pappy.  That is pretty cool and so is the sweet little one who is the reason I have the new name.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4461919636247721472-1538660370788848995?l=eezeekeezee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/feeds/1538660370788848995/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4461919636247721472&amp;postID=1538660370788848995' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/1538660370788848995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/1538660370788848995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/2010/08/my-name.html' title='My Name'/><author><name>Bobby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17863725503629640184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S_r7hL1ldRI/AAAAAAAAAJw/J8y6MNUSgsk/S220/DSC_1141.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/THkF2XxpfOI/AAAAAAAAAMY/XMseVS_B3c8/s72-c/DSC_0062.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461919636247721472.post-7356425656668572470</id><published>2010-08-27T19:32:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-28T06:13:13.435-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Little Girl</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/THkLLyicuII/AAAAAAAAANI/PH5ad1X3Jk4/s1600/DSC_0129.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/THkLLyicuII/AAAAAAAAANI/PH5ad1X3Jk4/s320/DSC_0129.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510447916237240450" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/THkK5rYd9vI/AAAAAAAAANA/BzXVvpcNPbg/s1600/DSC_0687.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/THkK5rYd9vI/AAAAAAAAANA/BzXVvpcNPbg/s320/DSC_0687.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510447605078685426" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/THkKk0_LFUI/AAAAAAAAAM4/qI23zKoGOgk/s1600/DSCN3366.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/THkKk0_LFUI/AAAAAAAAAM4/qI23zKoGOgk/s320/DSCN3366.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510447246879692098" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/THkKdlVywvI/AAAAAAAAAMw/XqtLhEuFve8/s1600/DSCN3451.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/THkKdlVywvI/AAAAAAAAAMw/XqtLhEuFve8/s320/DSCN3451.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510447122420515570" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/THkHwy5wpiI/AAAAAAAAAMo/sAP79VC9518/s1600/DSC_0244.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/THkHwy5wpiI/AAAAAAAAAMo/sAP79VC9518/s320/DSC_0244.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510444153943664162" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/THkG5SclfXI/AAAAAAAAAMg/EZjmcx6CF_E/s1600/DSC_0066.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/THkG5SclfXI/AAAAAAAAAMg/EZjmcx6CF_E/s320/DSC_0066.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510443200338558322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of you know that I love music.  I love country, jazz, classical - just about anything.  I love strings, brass, and voices.  I have been known to say in the middle of some conversation, "...that reminds me of a song."  Well, I have certain songs that are just special to me.  Dolly Parton's, "I Will Always Love You", Crystal Gayle's "When I Dream", The Statler Brothers singing "You are My Sunshine" and John Denver singing "Back Home Again" are just a few of my many "favorite" songs. Each one brings a special thought to my mind when I hear them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are certain songs that remind me of certain people.  Many of those special songs remind me of my girls.  "In My Daughter's Eyes" and "My Little Girl" are a couple of those songs that remind me of my daughters.  I think of Pam when I hear "Why Haven't I Heard from You" and "This Kiss."  I think of Annie and Pam when I hear "Grandpa (Tell us about the good old days).  I think of Jacqueline when I hear "I'm Already There." (As a side note Annie and Sharlene have one song that is very special to the two of them.)  But when I hear "In My Daughter's Eyes" and "My Little Girl" it makes me think of all three of them.  These songs make me feel so special to have had the privilege to be my girls' Dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I heard the song, "My Little Girl" on the radio.  There is a part in that song that talks about being beautiful from the outside in.  I belive that I have three beautiful daughters.  I also believe that they are beautiful inside and outside.  Their Mother played a big part on that inner and outer beauty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sharlene and I have a new little granddaughter, Chloe.  She is so cute, so smart, so funny and so entertaining. (Grandpas say these things.) I believe she will grow up to be a beautiful young lady.  I believe that her parents will also help her to grow up to be just as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the song, "My Little Girl" it says that the little girl, "...will always be my little girl."  I do not care what my daughthers say, they will always be my little girls.  This little Chloe, and the new grandchildren that are on the way, will always be the "little girl(s)(and soon to be little boy) who is the little girl of My Little Girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope it makes sense.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4461919636247721472-7356425656668572470?l=eezeekeezee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/feeds/7356425656668572470/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4461919636247721472&amp;postID=7356425656668572470' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/7356425656668572470'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/7356425656668572470'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/2010/08/my-little-girl.html' title='My Little Girl'/><author><name>Bobby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17863725503629640184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S_r7hL1ldRI/AAAAAAAAAJw/J8y6MNUSgsk/S220/DSC_1141.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/THkLLyicuII/AAAAAAAAANI/PH5ad1X3Jk4/s72-c/DSC_0129.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461919636247721472.post-4503580637937063257</id><published>2010-07-07T19:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-09T05:42:48.267-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bang Up Weekend</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/TDcX741fYAI/AAAAAAAAALo/SPoGjIejCYw/s1600/DSC_0001.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/TDcX741fYAI/AAAAAAAAALo/SPoGjIejCYw/s320/DSC_0001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491884588238069762" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/TDcX7Y9nNaI/AAAAAAAAALg/m4IK-tTqjwM/s1600/DSC_0008.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/TDcX7Y9nNaI/AAAAAAAAALg/m4IK-tTqjwM/s320/DSC_0008.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491884579682203042" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/TDcX6yl3ROI/AAAAAAAAALY/wZ3N4-wLWLw/s1600/DSC_0007.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/TDcX6yl3ROI/AAAAAAAAALY/wZ3N4-wLWLw/s320/DSC_0007.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491884569382044898" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/TDaF31sZ5SI/AAAAAAAAALQ/KkQu5hb8k6Y/s1600/DSC_0020.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/TDaF31sZ5SI/AAAAAAAAALQ/KkQu5hb8k6Y/s320/DSC_0020.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491723989977523490" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/TDaDN_5k5DI/AAAAAAAAALI/qt2tRlPcXB0/s1600/DSC_0030.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491721072139363378" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/TDaDN_5k5DI/AAAAAAAAALI/qt2tRlPcXB0/s320/DSC_0030.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/TDaDNblNOtI/AAAAAAAAALA/FMDzUCNCLUU/s1600/DSC_0053.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491721062390250194" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/TDaDNblNOtI/AAAAAAAAALA/FMDzUCNCLUU/s320/DSC_0053.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/TDaDMswouAI/AAAAAAAAAK4/CBlPBG4sWqU/s1600/DSC_0055.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491721049821722626" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/TDaDMswouAI/AAAAAAAAAK4/CBlPBG4sWqU/s320/DSC_0055.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/TDU9csUxqmI/AAAAAAAAAKw/NAvW3DPKNng/s1600/DSC_0061.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491362883792120418" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/TDU9csUxqmI/AAAAAAAAAKw/NAvW3DPKNng/s320/DSC_0061.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/TDU9b3OMofI/AAAAAAAAAKo/mZUCGRut8ls/s1600/DSC_0059.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491362869537448434" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/TDU9b3OMofI/AAAAAAAAAKo/mZUCGRut8ls/s320/DSC_0059.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/TDU7_CkHx1I/AAAAAAAAAKg/TYszg5DyXn0/s1600/DSC_0077.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491361274854360914" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/TDU7_CkHx1I/AAAAAAAAAKg/TYszg5DyXn0/s320/DSC_0077.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/TDU7-i7rs-I/AAAAAAAAAKY/2fKxxhjXfEo/s1600/DSC_0079.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491361266363249634" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/TDU7-i7rs-I/AAAAAAAAAKY/2fKxxhjXfEo/s320/DSC_0079.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/TDU7-IMqWYI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/OVZlUiQSQr0/s1600/DSC_0087.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491361259186706818" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/TDU7-IMqWYI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/OVZlUiQSQr0/s320/DSC_0087.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a very special 4th of July weekend. Sharlene's brother Bob and his wife Sharon, one of their daughters, Jennifer and her husband Sam and Mr. Cameron came to Kansas for a visit. We had a lot of just real nice family time at Brenda's, Becky's and our house over the weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was food, fun, food and family and food. We sat around for hours and listened and talked. We hit Shelley Ann's for the traditional breakfast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Becky and Jason's son, Clint, had a birthday on the 3rd so we celebrated that special day with a cookout, cake and ice cream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fireworks with the Stapels is the tradition now. It was fun, loud, exciting and sometimes there was a suprise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bob, Sam, Cameron and I went to the Geographical Center of the United States near Lebanon, Kansas. It was an interesting ride. Got to meet the new preacher at the little chapel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sharlene called some of her local cousins and Monday night we go to be with a little more famliy. We ate some world famous Banana Pudding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I enjoyed the stories told. I enjoyed the laughter. I enjoyed getting to spend some special time with family. I felt a little closer to them all when they pulled out of the drive on their way home. It was just a fun, relaxing weekend. I am glad I got to be a part of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4461919636247721472-4503580637937063257?l=eezeekeezee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/feeds/4503580637937063257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4461919636247721472&amp;postID=4503580637937063257' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/4503580637937063257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/4503580637937063257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/2010/07/bang-up-weekend.html' title='Bang Up Weekend'/><author><name>Bobby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17863725503629640184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S_r7hL1ldRI/AAAAAAAAAJw/J8y6MNUSgsk/S220/DSC_1141.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/TDcX741fYAI/AAAAAAAAALo/SPoGjIejCYw/s72-c/DSC_0001.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461919636247721472.post-9044975605684866008</id><published>2010-05-23T18:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-24T15:14:51.050-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Precisely Manicured Lawn</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S_r6CNaWSEI/AAAAAAAAAJk/kBDdURrIROA/s1600/DSC_1204.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S_r6CNaWSEI/AAAAAAAAAJk/kBDdURrIROA/s320/DSC_1204.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474963212889114690" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S_r6Bhona_I/AAAAAAAAAJc/-EW-2Txdi30/s1600/DSC_1206.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S_r6Bhona_I/AAAAAAAAAJc/-EW-2Txdi30/s320/DSC_1206.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474963201137798130" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doesn't a newly cut lawn look nice?  Especially when cut in a criss-cross pattern to make the cut even and geometric.  Just look at my yard!  It could only have been done better by a 5 month pregnant woman or her husband.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4461919636247721472-9044975605684866008?l=eezeekeezee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/feeds/9044975605684866008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4461919636247721472&amp;postID=9044975605684866008' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/9044975605684866008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/9044975605684866008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/2010/05/precisely-manicured-lawn.html' title='A Precisely Manicured Lawn'/><author><name>Bobby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17863725503629640184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S_r7hL1ldRI/AAAAAAAAAJw/J8y6MNUSgsk/S220/DSC_1141.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S_r6CNaWSEI/AAAAAAAAAJk/kBDdURrIROA/s72-c/DSC_1204.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461919636247721472.post-8750479567950191602</id><published>2010-03-08T07:06:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-08T08:19:20.324-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pampered Daddy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S5UjNvFMSpI/AAAAAAAAAJU/bdYqEg3OCLU/s1600-h/DSC_0149.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S5UjNvFMSpI/AAAAAAAAAJU/bdYqEg3OCLU/s320/DSC_0149.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446298043257997970" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S5UjNXwWYWI/AAAAAAAAAJM/jOChHVdPUgM/s1600-h/DSC_0150.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S5UjNXwWYWI/AAAAAAAAAJM/jOChHVdPUgM/s320/DSC_0150.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446298036996563298" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S5UjMgoJO5I/AAAAAAAAAJE/36bAtcvEPSY/s1600-h/DSC_0155.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S5UjMgoJO5I/AAAAAAAAAJE/36bAtcvEPSY/s320/DSC_0155.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446298022198197138" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S5UjMCg4c9I/AAAAAAAAAI8/IwPSr1IG_2A/s1600-h/DSC_0165.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S5UjMCg4c9I/AAAAAAAAAI8/IwPSr1IG_2A/s320/DSC_0165.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446298014114673618" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S5UjL5ml4TI/AAAAAAAAAI0/aC9VRopRnJ0/s1600-h/DSC_0159.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S5UjL5ml4TI/AAAAAAAAAI0/aC9VRopRnJ0/s320/DSC_0159.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446298011722703154" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last weekend Annie came home for 27 hours and 22 minutes.  She had a Pampered Chef party on Saturday morning and I think she wanted to see her Mom and Dad.  We wanted to see her too.  We were very glad she came home.  Maddie was glad to see P J too.&lt;br /&gt;We had a few laughs, went to eat at the Oriental and I got to drive the non-recalled Toyota.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4461919636247721472-8750479567950191602?l=eezeekeezee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/feeds/8750479567950191602/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4461919636247721472&amp;postID=8750479567950191602' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/8750479567950191602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/8750479567950191602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/2010/03/pampered-daddy.html' title='Pampered Daddy'/><author><name>Bobby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17863725503629640184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S_r7hL1ldRI/AAAAAAAAAJw/J8y6MNUSgsk/S220/DSC_1141.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S5UjNvFMSpI/AAAAAAAAAJU/bdYqEg3OCLU/s72-c/DSC_0149.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461919636247721472.post-2770703234120870173</id><published>2010-03-02T09:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-05T11:08:21.705-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Chasing Cars</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S45qNbQYdzI/AAAAAAAAAIM/HfBm6buDnmA/s1600-h/DSC_0148.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S45qNbQYdzI/AAAAAAAAAIM/HfBm6buDnmA/s320/DSC_0148.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444405778424821554" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We lived on Second Street until about the time I was in 5th Grade.  Second Street is one of the busier North-South Streets in town.  Many years ago, which that time was, our city fathers were not as strict about just letting your dog run wherever they wanted to run.  I remember that there was one dog that seemed very bothered by all those cars driving down "his" Second street.  He would crouch in the gutter on the side of the street by the curb and wait on each car as it came down the street. When he thought the time was "just right" he would run after the cars as they came by.  This was serious stuff for him.  He was really wanting to catch those cars. O.K., get this picture:  There is a 2000 pound car coming down the street at 30 miles per hour.  There is crouched, with eyes fixed and tail twitching, a 35 pound dog ready to catch that car.  That bad old car gets closer.  The little brown dog has to take off before the car gets even with him so that he can be running at a good speed when it zooms by.  He has to be going pretty fast so that he can attempt to bite a tire or a bumper or anything sticking out... I never saw him catch one.  Dangerous?  Futile?  Display of no common sense?  Probably all of the above.  The big question is this:  What would he have done if he had caught the car?&lt;br /&gt;In life there are many times we "chase" things.  Sometimes they are realistic objectives.  Our education, our jobs, our mates, retirement plans.  Sometimes there are things that are out of our reach, yet we long for them.  They never seem to be achieved or obtained.  We may chase them or just dream about them, but they are never caught.  I think Someone knows what is best for us, much better than we.  Many of those "cars" are more than we can or should bargain for.  They are like the dog and the car, what would we really do if we caught them?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Figure this one out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4461919636247721472-2770703234120870173?l=eezeekeezee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/feeds/2770703234120870173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4461919636247721472&amp;postID=2770703234120870173' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/2770703234120870173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/2770703234120870173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/2010/03/chasing-cars.html' title='Chasing Cars'/><author><name>Bobby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17863725503629640184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S_r7hL1ldRI/AAAAAAAAAJw/J8y6MNUSgsk/S220/DSC_1141.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S45qNbQYdzI/AAAAAAAAAIM/HfBm6buDnmA/s72-c/DSC_0148.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461919636247721472.post-7682122091944341562</id><published>2010-03-02T09:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-05T11:06:14.759-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Days Turn Into Years and the Memories to Black and White</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S5FUDPUVo0I/AAAAAAAAAIs/AX9mWsqkOEc/s1600-h/100_0059_0056.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S5FUDPUVo0I/AAAAAAAAAIs/AX9mWsqkOEc/s320/100_0059_0056.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445225839095817026" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S5FUCpyps3I/AAAAAAAAAIk/4hJ2BI1xOL4/s1600-h/100_0090_0086.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S5FUCpyps3I/AAAAAAAAAIk/4hJ2BI1xOL4/s320/100_0090_0086.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445225829022413682" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reba McEntire has a song with the line,...the days turn into years and the memories to black and white...&lt;br /&gt;The other day I was sitting here thinking, Oh, my goodness, it has been almost a year!  &lt;br /&gt;There are times that I may be so into the day's activities that it is hard to remember what is true.  I sometimes think Dad must be around here somewhere, I just have not seen him in a while.  Time has flown by in so many ways.  Reality tells me he is gone.  I can live with that.&lt;br /&gt;The days have now turned into a year.  There are some memories that will turn to black and white.  But there are many memories that will always be in vivid color.  And I do not know how those vivid colorful memories, like the way I miss him, will ever be diminished.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4461919636247721472-7682122091944341562?l=eezeekeezee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/feeds/7682122091944341562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4461919636247721472&amp;postID=7682122091944341562' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/7682122091944341562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/7682122091944341562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/2010/03/days-turn-into-years-and-memories-to.html' title='Days Turn Into Years and the Memories to Black and White'/><author><name>Bobby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17863725503629640184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S_r7hL1ldRI/AAAAAAAAAJw/J8y6MNUSgsk/S220/DSC_1141.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S5FUDPUVo0I/AAAAAAAAAIs/AX9mWsqkOEc/s72-c/100_0059_0056.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461919636247721472.post-3822879624272690175</id><published>2010-01-23T17:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-25T05:47:21.734-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Those Neat Bags</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S1u1RiwCMwI/AAAAAAAAAIE/w8Eg3FDwNH0/s1600-h/DSC_0019.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S1u1RiwCMwI/AAAAAAAAAIE/w8Eg3FDwNH0/s320/DSC_0019.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430133088715944706" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S1uz47vvUbI/AAAAAAAAAH0/yCKi4MQR8eg/s1600-h/DSC_0016.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S1uz47vvUbI/AAAAAAAAAH0/yCKi4MQR8eg/s320/DSC_0016.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430131566417236402" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S1uz4mHXMJI/AAAAAAAAAHs/E3JkmwUZigM/s1600-h/DSC_0013.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S1uz4mHXMJI/AAAAAAAAAHs/E3JkmwUZigM/s320/DSC_0013.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430131560610738322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S1uz4Kc-wbI/AAAAAAAAAHk/I6Goi5ECb6g/s1600-h/DSC_0010.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S1uz4Kc-wbI/AAAAAAAAAHk/I6Goi5ECb6g/s320/DSC_0010.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430131553185218994" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S1uz5d_4UXI/AAAAAAAAAH8/xZ9p4xhDgy8/s1600-h/DSC_0018.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S1uz5d_4UXI/AAAAAAAAAH8/xZ9p4xhDgy8/s320/DSC_0018.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430131575611740530" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you got any of those neat little bags to use instead of plastic or paper from the grocery store?  They are supposed to keep us from using so much oil or cutting down so many trees.  I have found them to be useful in many other ways.&lt;br /&gt;Many of the ladies where I work use them to carry things to and from their car.  So I use one of my green ones for a briefcase.  My blue bag is just right for paying bills because there are so many and they make me feel that color.  My other green bag is really used for shopping.  It takes a lot of green when you buy groceries.  The dignified black bag is used when I really feel "dressed up."  And when I go on long walks I take my red bag so my friends can ride along too.  And of course, since they come in so many different colors you can match your accessories with the color of the bags.  I sure do love them!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4461919636247721472-3822879624272690175?l=eezeekeezee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/feeds/3822879624272690175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4461919636247721472&amp;postID=3822879624272690175' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/3822879624272690175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/3822879624272690175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/2010/01/those-neat-bags.html' title='Those Neat Bags'/><author><name>Bobby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17863725503629640184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S_r7hL1ldRI/AAAAAAAAAJw/J8y6MNUSgsk/S220/DSC_1141.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S1u1RiwCMwI/AAAAAAAAAIE/w8Eg3FDwNH0/s72-c/DSC_0019.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461919636247721472.post-487008568400735546</id><published>2010-01-16T16:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-17T06:00:24.447-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Gifts</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S1J4Yh31meI/AAAAAAAAAHE/OUHbl27K5no/s1600-h/DH000099.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S1J4Yh31meI/AAAAAAAAAHE/OUHbl27K5no/s320/DH000099.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427532863739632098" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S1JvXv4SbCI/AAAAAAAAAGk/VS5Agvp4Ot8/s1600-h/DH000044.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S1JvXv4SbCI/AAAAAAAAAGk/VS5Agvp4Ot8/s320/DH000044.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427522954715098146" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S1Juh-eq-_I/AAAAAAAAAGc/lNy3ReumPk4/s1600-h/DH000036.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S1Juh-eq-_I/AAAAAAAAAGc/lNy3ReumPk4/s320/DH000036.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427522030921251826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S1Jtj13ORLI/AAAAAAAAAGU/9IYXeTX52ak/s1600-h/DSCN3771.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S1Jtj13ORLI/AAAAAAAAAGU/9IYXeTX52ak/s320/DSCN3771.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427520963456418994" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was an interesting holiday season.  The weather was terrible cold.  We had a blizzard just days before and while family were travelling here.  A big majority of those that came got the flu.  In spite of all of that, I think we had a pretty good time.  Lots of food.  Time together.  And a time of giving.&lt;br /&gt;This year I was overwhelmed by gifts I received.  &lt;br /&gt;One of the young ladies that I work with had a very nice camera that she let me borrow once and offered to sell me a couple of months ago.  I was telling her that I loved it, but I would have to convince Sharlene that it was something "we" wanted to get.  We had talked about getting a new camera but nothing had been decided.  Well, I was telling Teena (the young lady) that I was working on Sharlene, but I did not think the job was going to get done.  Little did I know, but she had been talking to Teena too.  And on Christmas morning there next to my stocking was this beautiful camera.  I was shocked.  I still am.  It is so beautiful.  Thank you so much Sharlene!&lt;br /&gt;I also got quite a gift from Becky.  Each year I give many in my family a corn cob.  Dad had told me many years ago that his father had given him and his brother Vaughn a corn cob or a lump of coal at Christmas.  So, several years ago I began to give corn cobs.  Then I changed things and began to not just wrap up a cob and put it under the tree.  Now, I am not an artist, and my creatations are maybe even crude, but I have made Barbie and Ken Cobs, corn cob light houses, corn cob christmas trees, corn cob flag poles, corn cobs commerating engagements with little rings on each cob and several other things.  My niece Becky usually has a special cob to give back to me.  I have been given a cob family, a koozie cob and other things.  This year Becky and Jason got me an ear of corn that had been carved from a log with a chain saw.  It is about 3 feet tall and is amazing. What a gift!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;My Mom worked hard to give everyone a gift that was something from Grandpa.  She put a lot of thought and love in each gift.  &lt;br /&gt;Because many were sick, I think I got another gift of being able to get to do a little extra in the kitchen for our Christmas dinner.  I really enjoyed being in the kitchen.  &lt;br /&gt;It was a gift for my Mom to have as many as possible home with her this year.  She had a great time having all around.  &lt;br /&gt;I had a very special gift to have a little granddaughter for the first time at my house at Christmas.  She brings so much happiness to her Mommy and Dad and all of us who get to touch and be touched by her.&lt;br /&gt;I think we had a gift from God that Jordan made it to us safely.  The weather as I said was not cooperating and we thought his journey would be "iffy."  Well, he was doing pretty well until he hit some ice near Stockton and slid off the road.  Everyone, including the car was fine, just needed to be pulled back on the road and set on his way.&lt;br /&gt;"Things" sometimes make the vision cloudy.  When that vision is clear we understand that the things, the gifts, that are so special are those safe journeys, the blessing of family near and being able to give to someone else.&lt;br /&gt;Thanks everyone for a wonderful time and your generousity and to God for blessing us all with more than we know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4461919636247721472-487008568400735546?l=eezeekeezee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/feeds/487008568400735546/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4461919636247721472&amp;postID=487008568400735546' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/487008568400735546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/487008568400735546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/2010/01/gifts.html' title='Gifts'/><author><name>Bobby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17863725503629640184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S_r7hL1ldRI/AAAAAAAAAJw/J8y6MNUSgsk/S220/DSC_1141.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S1J4Yh31meI/AAAAAAAAAHE/OUHbl27K5no/s72-c/DH000099.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461919636247721472.post-8375443994146389618</id><published>2010-01-16T13:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-16T13:30:52.321-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I did't get to take him home</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S1Iu3N-tCtI/AAAAAAAAAGM/hqOUSqsF95s/s1600-h/DSCN0782_180.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S1Iu3N-tCtI/AAAAAAAAAGM/hqOUSqsF95s/s320/DSCN0782_180.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427452027115211474" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    The other day when it was terrible cold (like it was all over the country) we were bringing Mom home from some outing.  Mom is pretty independent so I don't remember why we were taking here anywhere, but we were coming home.  The driveway was icy (maybe that is why we had her) so I told her I would help her back to the house.  So we stepped out of the car and started up the sidewalk to the front steps.  Right then I realized that I had not thought about taking Dad up that sidewalk for quite some time.  He is always on my mind, but some specifics only pop in now and then.  Well we were walking up that sidewalk and Mom was being pretty careful, but it reminded me of those walks up the sidewalk with Dad.  Her steps were careful, but Dad's were small.  His knees hurt so bad each step was very careful.  I would say about 6 to 8 inches was his gait.  I remember last year about this time seeing the itty bitty steps in the snow from his car to the front door.  It was a trail of footprints only a few inches apart.  &lt;br /&gt;Thinking of our walks to the house reminded me of quite a few memories with Dad.  This last week has been so hard.  There seems to be many stresses around me and I want to go run them by my Dad.  Even if we would not talk about some things, just to be with him would help. It has been 10 months now but it seems a new wave of sorrow and missing him has come.&lt;br /&gt;I have thought many times this last week about finding him that afternoon.  I question things that happened.  I question if I did everything I should have.  In my mind I am sure that I did, but it has been a week of questions.  &lt;br /&gt;After walking up that walk with Mom the other day I thought to myself.  You thought you would take Dad up this sidewalk many more times, didn't you?  I had never thought about it until this week, but I did not get to take him home.  Guess he got there o.k. without me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4461919636247721472-8375443994146389618?l=eezeekeezee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/feeds/8375443994146389618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4461919636247721472&amp;postID=8375443994146389618' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/8375443994146389618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/8375443994146389618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-didt-get-to-take-him-home.html' title='I did&apos;t get to take him home'/><author><name>Bobby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17863725503629640184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S_r7hL1ldRI/AAAAAAAAAJw/J8y6MNUSgsk/S220/DSC_1141.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S1Iu3N-tCtI/AAAAAAAAAGM/hqOUSqsF95s/s72-c/DSCN0782_180.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461919636247721472.post-4811596784714711086</id><published>2009-10-09T08:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-09T19:54:29.468-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Here we go again.</title><content type='html'>I guess this is not a radio talk show or a newspaper column but I feel that I am neglecting something because I have not posted here in a long time.  Part of the reason IS time.  - - Taking it and making it for this blog.  Secondly is my frame of mind.  My mind has to be just right (boy that is a feat) to put something in words.  I also have the concern that the main thing I feel from my heart to write about is my Dad.  I believe that I am o.k. about dealing with the loss of him.  When I feel like writing the things many times that are deeply on my heart concern Dad and that may get tiring for people to read. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, I just want you all to know that I do have happy things in my life.  I have a wife who loves me much more than I deserve.  I love her smile, and so much more because of what she has brought to my life.  I have three daughters who truly fill my heart and life with pride and joy.  I am blessed to know that my three daughters have three great men to make their lives complete.  I have this cute little black and white dog.  ......I have not forgotten or purposely left this last one at the end ..... I have a new little granddaughter.  What a joy she is!  I just sit and wonder in anticipation what her life will bring to those around her.  It will be fun to watch her grow.  &lt;br /&gt;There...  Those are my happy thoughts.  &lt;br /&gt;As I said before there is still one person who is still in my thoughts.  Not all of those thoughts about Dad are sad however.  Some are fun.  Most are just warm remembrances.&lt;br /&gt;I am going to try to write on a more regular basis.  I will try to not just have warm and happy remembrances.  I will try to get pictures (if I ever get this picture thing fine tuned).  By writing I will help myself remember and record here thoughts that are special to me.&lt;br /&gt;One thing I regret is that I did not ask my Dad more questions about lots of things.  So, sometimes I am going to write about my life experiences.  Many will include my growing up experiences.  These will be shared to tell my kids and whoever else happens to read this about things from my past.&lt;br /&gt;That is all for now.  And so as Vicki Overly used to say,"I'll talk to you again later on this week."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love You,&lt;br /&gt;Dad&lt;br /&gt;(and whatever other title you may have for me.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4461919636247721472-4811596784714711086?l=eezeekeezee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/feeds/4811596784714711086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4461919636247721472&amp;postID=4811596784714711086' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/4811596784714711086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/4811596784714711086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/2009/10/here-we-go-again.html' title='Here we go again.'/><author><name>Bobby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17863725503629640184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S_r7hL1ldRI/AAAAAAAAAJw/J8y6MNUSgsk/S220/DSC_1141.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461919636247721472.post-1006442393996703025</id><published>2009-08-09T05:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-14T08:30:01.780-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rodeo Time</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Rodeo time in Phillipsburg, Kansas, has always been a special time for me. I remember at least six of us getting into the car and going to the rodeo with my Grandpa Keesee on a hot Sunday afternoon in about 1960 or 1961. He always liked to sit up on the top row of the east grandstand. The town is always more alive during the week of rodeo. There used to be a sidewalk sale on the Saturday of rodeo week. Businesses encouraged their employees to dress "western" during rodeo week. There used to be two parades during rodeo week. For our town the rodeo has been a very special time of the year.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/Sn9DI8-OihI/AAAAAAAAAFk/zA-N4kCM-L4/s1600-h/100_4237.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368083101934062098" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/Sn9DI8-OihI/AAAAAAAAAFk/zA-N4kCM-L4/s320/100_4237.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/Sn9Cu-BmHNI/AAAAAAAAAFE/d71x0u9sQGc/s1600-h/100_4223.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368082655540026578" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/Sn9Cu-BmHNI/AAAAAAAAAFE/d71x0u9sQGc/s320/100_4223.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When the rodeo used to have special entertainers come to perform, several of them stayed at my Mom and Dad's motel. That was extra special for us. I often tell people that I sold Lynn Anderson a horse. I really did! It was a plastic souvenir horse, but it was a horse. Festus and Sam the Bartender from Gunsmoke stayed with us, as well as the Haggar twins from Hee Haw. I know that will really impress some of you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/Sn-UkSfNNLI/AAAAAAAAAFs/g2S-H6eq-dI/s1600-h/DSCN3293.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368172632007849138" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/Sn-UkSfNNLI/AAAAAAAAAFs/g2S-H6eq-dI/s320/DSCN3293.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/Sn9CuZvmx6I/AAAAAAAAAE8/GymCMj6P22o/s1600-h/100_4214.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368082645800896418" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/Sn9CuZvmx6I/AAAAAAAAAE8/GymCMj6P22o/s320/100_4214.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Our family usually sets on the North side of the building that we own along the parade route. It is usually hot but there is a little shade there. The parade is fun. We wave at our friends that ride in the parade on horseback, on a float or some other mode of movement. The kids gather in candy thrown to the crowd by people in the parade. The parade is a time of family and community gathering. For many it is a time of reunion. There is also ice cream being sold on the corner, which is also very important.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/Sn9Ct8RTXUI/AAAAAAAAAE0/aZUx-93S9o0/s1600-h/100_4221.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368172648697422978" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/Sn-UlQqT5II/AAAAAAAAAGE/v0RDBBMTuN4/s320/DSCN3302.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bill Clarke was the Grand Marshall of the parade this year. That designation seems to go to someone in the community who through age, admiration, and or just plain hard work has a special spot in the hearts of many of the community. Lee Matteson was Grand Marshall in recent years. He rode in his last parade last year at the age of 108, I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/Sn-Ukn_-9sI/AAAAAAAAAF0/mROa7dZQvSk/s1600-h/DSCN3304.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368172637782472386" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/Sn-Ukn_-9sI/AAAAAAAAAF0/mROa7dZQvSk/s320/DSCN3304.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As I began, the rodeo is a special time for our family. Since that Sunday afternoon in about 1960, I only remember missing going to the rodeo only 5 or 6 years. When we owned the motel, our family took turns watching the office so that everyone in the family would get to go to at least one performance. My Mom even usually goes, just to be with the family.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/Sn-Uk7DQ7XI/AAAAAAAAAF8/9iuIeXYfnMo/s1600-h/DSCN3320.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368172642896506226" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/Sn-Uk7DQ7XI/AAAAAAAAAF8/9iuIeXYfnMo/s320/DSCN3320.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This year things were different. First, Saturday afternoon at parade time it was only about 80 degrees. Usually the temperature is hovering in the high 90's or low 100's. Most years we go to the rodeo on Thursday night because there is a free meal consisting of hamburgers and beans that is served. This year we went on Saturday because Jacqueline and Jordan (and Chloe) were coming but not until Saturday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/Sn9CvSmDUJI/AAAAAAAAAFM/oIwlb1g_5QE/s1600-h/100_4232.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368082661061644434" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/Sn9CvSmDUJI/AAAAAAAAAFM/oIwlb1g_5QE/s320/100_4232.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/Sn9DIsvpk1I/AAAAAAAAAFc/R3noqNUNLYM/s1600-h/100_4235.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368083097577952082" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/Sn9DIsvpk1I/AAAAAAAAAFc/R3noqNUNLYM/s320/100_4235.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/Sn9CvjcHrOI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AR1uJ52rHhQ/s1600-h/100_4233.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368082665583389922" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/Sn9CvjcHrOI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AR1uJ52rHhQ/s320/100_4233.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This year was also different because some things were missing. First the parade did not have Lee Matteson. Lee rode his horse for many years after he reached 100 and only the last couple of years did he ride in a vehicle. It was different because my Mom did not go to the rodeo. It was also different because my Dad was not there. He enjoyed the parade. Many of the horses reminded him of working with horses when he grew up on the farm. We talked about the horses. We talked about the old wagons. We enjoyed the old cars that would drive by. He would sometimes have a story to tell about what was passing by. We would also have to sample the ice cream. Dad enjoyed the rodeo. He would see many friends, business acquaintances and just anyone who liked to visit. Usually someone from our family would come home so that they could go to the rodeo with Mom and Dad. The rodeo had horses that he loved. He loved the silly jokes the clowns told. The bucking horses, bulls and barrel racers all were part of the thrill. He just loved the rodeo and the time. It was a time for my Dad to relax and enjoy, which was something he did not always get to do. This was a time when you would always see a smile on his face. I can't think of the rodeo without thinking about how special of a time it was for him and how much he is missed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4461919636247721472-1006442393996703025?l=eezeekeezee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/feeds/1006442393996703025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4461919636247721472&amp;postID=1006442393996703025' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/1006442393996703025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/1006442393996703025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/2009/08/rodeo-time.html' title='Rodeo Time'/><author><name>Bobby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17863725503629640184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S_r7hL1ldRI/AAAAAAAAAJw/J8y6MNUSgsk/S220/DSC_1141.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/Sn9DI8-OihI/AAAAAAAAAFk/zA-N4kCM-L4/s72-c/100_4237.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461919636247721472.post-7215956634021771516</id><published>2009-07-28T05:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-03T19:22:45.065-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Moving On</title><content type='html'>Sharlene and I have been very blessed to have been given the three daughters that we have. Each one is her own person. I feel that I have a special closeness that I treasure with each one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SnJhn6TVKII/AAAAAAAAAEU/FuHxWdl3Vmo/s1600-h/100_2362.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364457444444809346" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SnJhn6TVKII/AAAAAAAAAEU/FuHxWdl3Vmo/s320/100_2362.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SneazotPwqI/AAAAAAAAAEs/kgjbxwQfZ60/s1600-h/DSCN3328.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365927692926436002" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SneazotPwqI/AAAAAAAAAEs/kgjbxwQfZ60/s320/DSCN3328.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When your children are growing up you know that the time will come when they will move out of the nest of home and live a life on their own. Even though I know moving away is a part of life it was such a special blessing to have Annie move back home when she taught school in Agra. She is such a ray of sunshine. She brightens the room and the day. It was just very nice to have one of our girls home for a while.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;After Annie moved to Great Bend, she would go to Wichita now and then, but she did not say much about other things going on in Wichita. One Saturday afternoon she called me and told me she was going to Hutchinson. "Dad," she said, "I think it is a date!" She was so excited. I wondered how she did not know if it was a date.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As nice as it was to have Annie home for a while with us, there was a greater wish we had for her. That wish was that some fine young man would find what we believe is our special jewel. That guy from the, "I think this is a date!" Saturday afternoon turned out to be Jared Johnson. He has found our jewel. Annie is so happy. He is who she was waiting for. He is who we were waiting for. God blessed Annie and God blessed our family when he brought them together.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I was teaching Annie to ride her bike, the learning took place on the little lane that led to our house when we lived out on the farm. She would sit on her bike. I would hold on to the bicycle behind her and we would start down the little decline that let to the house. With that slight decline I thought that if she ever started going on her own it would help her keep going without worrying too much about running the pedals. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So we would go down, walk back about 100 feet to our starting point and do it all over again. We had done this several times when Annie got a little discouraged. She wanted to quit. It seems like I said, "Annie, can't never did anything." Well, she kept at it. Soon she was riding on her own. Later when we rode our bikes together, I usually had to tell her to slow down because I had to work hard to keep up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;There are few things that Annie has taken on and not mastered. (With the exception of the basketball thing.   I just know she could have!)  She is a leader. She is not a quitter. She is a truster. Even though she may have wondered why God was taking so long in showing her who this Saturday afternoon date guy was going to be, she always believed that there was going to be someone for her. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SnJhnNHY0FI/AAAAAAAAAEE/4BnwtpX4cyk/s1600-h/100_4041.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364457432315121746" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SnJhnNHY0FI/AAAAAAAAAEE/4BnwtpX4cyk/s320/100_4041.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Annie's blog used to be titled, "Moving On" She is moving on again. With her marriage to Jared she is moving on to a bigger, brighter, new, level of life. She is so happy. We are all very happy. Our life is moving on too. Life is full of changes. You all know how well I love change (Ha) but this is a good change. We, (I) am moving to a new level, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4461919636247721472-7215956634021771516?l=eezeekeezee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/feeds/7215956634021771516/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4461919636247721472&amp;postID=7215956634021771516' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/7215956634021771516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/7215956634021771516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/2009/07/moving-on.html' title='Moving On'/><author><name>Bobby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17863725503629640184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S_r7hL1ldRI/AAAAAAAAAJw/J8y6MNUSgsk/S220/DSC_1141.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SnJhn6TVKII/AAAAAAAAAEU/FuHxWdl3Vmo/s72-c/100_2362.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461919636247721472.post-334596141851301449</id><published>2009-06-27T20:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-28T16:21:39.810-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Soothing Saturday</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SkbfBXYuqYI/AAAAAAAAADU/9_qKgHh7kMk/s1600-h/DSCN3140.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352210421727013250" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SkbfBXYuqYI/AAAAAAAAADU/9_qKgHh7kMk/s320/DSCN3140.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was a beautiful day. The weather has been hovering around 100 for the past few days and today it was in the mid 80's. It was partly cloudy and the sky was blue. There was an Ansel Adams photograph display at the Hansen Museum in Logan so I decided to drive over to take it in. I was driving my age with my window down. I drove by a field where someone was turning fresh cut alfalfa. I don't know if you know that smell, but it is a good smell. It also reminded me of time with my Dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alfalfa was feed for my Dad's cattle. When I was very young, around 8-10 years old, Dad needed help picking up hay bales that were in the field. This involved stacking the bales on the pickup and driving to the location where the cattle would later be fed and making a large stack of bales there. Well it is time comsuming to drive 25 feet, stop, get out, throw on a bale, get back in the truck, drive 25 feet, get out, and do the whole process again. I guess Dad thought if I could reach the pedals, it was a stick shift, I could be helpful by being his driver. The first gear was geared so that you could not go very fast and even if you let the clutch out too fast the truck would probably go along o.k. The biggest challenge was driving it straight. I remember feeling like pretty hot stuff. Dad would set on the tailgate, I would get it started chugging along, and he would walk along and pick up the bales and throw them on the truck. Pretty young? Probably. Pretty special? You bet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now the countryside is just beautiful. We have had many rains and the grass and crops are green.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SkbhU2kHFnI/AAAAAAAAADc/uHA71aKrQbQ/s1600-h/DSCN3130.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352212955537020530" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SkbhU2kHFnI/AAAAAAAAADc/uHA71aKrQbQ/s320/DSCN3130.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the way back from Logan I saw a doe and twin fawns at the edge of a milo field.&lt;br /&gt;This evening Maddie and I went for a ride to Republican City. I had thought about watching the sun go down at the lake. When we got there it was still pretty early and the place I wanted to stop and soak in the evening was occupied. The lake is nearly full and people were enjoying the water, the beach and fun machines on the water. I did not stay until sundown, but it was a nice drive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/Skbj0L6tzdI/AAAAAAAAAD8/n8Mpk14Y2dE/s1600-h/DSCN3145.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352215692868177362" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/Skbj0L6tzdI/AAAAAAAAAD8/n8Mpk14Y2dE/s320/DSCN3145.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SkbjztUtrQI/AAAAAAAAAD0/sDp8ujQwPr4/s1600-h/DSCN3143.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352215684655721730" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SkbjztUtrQI/AAAAAAAAAD0/sDp8ujQwPr4/s320/DSCN3143.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wheat is just about ready to cut. I am sorry, but right now there are few things that do not remind me of my Dad. Harvest was a big time for him. We always talked about the wheat crop. We talked about the combines. Seeing the golden fileds today just reminded me of cutting wheat with my Dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SkbjzbRl6dI/AAAAAAAAADs/83zCtxojU3Y/s1600-h/DSCN3138.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352215679810791890" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SkbjzbRl6dI/AAAAAAAAADs/83zCtxojU3Y/s320/DSCN3138.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SkbjzOIUBjI/AAAAAAAAADk/P8jzMj5uiB8/s1600-h/DSCN3139.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352215676282209842" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SkbjzOIUBjI/AAAAAAAAADk/P8jzMj5uiB8/s320/DSCN3139.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was just a peaceful relaxing day. Got to see some world renown photographs. Got to see some of, in my opinion, the most beautiful country in the world. Got to think about good times in the past. Got to think that God made it and to count the blessing of being able to be a part of it all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4461919636247721472-334596141851301449?l=eezeekeezee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/feeds/334596141851301449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4461919636247721472&amp;postID=334596141851301449' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/334596141851301449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/334596141851301449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/2009/06/soothing-saturday.html' title='Soothing Saturday'/><author><name>Bobby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17863725503629640184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S_r7hL1ldRI/AAAAAAAAAJw/J8y6MNUSgsk/S220/DSC_1141.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SkbfBXYuqYI/AAAAAAAAADU/9_qKgHh7kMk/s72-c/DSCN3140.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461919636247721472.post-3032362166861660005</id><published>2009-06-21T15:04:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-22T06:25:41.139-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Father's Day 2009</title><content type='html'>This post has been rated &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/Sj6u2T0qc9I/AAAAAAAAACc/9tgJiXy5p6I/s1600-h/DSCN3113.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349905655420056530" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/Sj6u2T0qc9I/AAAAAAAAACc/9tgJiXy5p6I/s320/DSCN3113.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This was a kind of different Father's Day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I do not know if it was the only time, but it may have been one of the very few times in 30 years that I have not had one of my girls with me on Father's Day. I guess it was my own choice that things happened this way but it was very different. I was able to talk to Annie, Pamela and Jacqueline on the phone. I talked to my sweetheart wife, who was the other half in making me a Dad. So I know, like times when we have been together, that I was loved. I will try harder next year to be with someone when my day comes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I did put on my most conservative Hiwaiian Shirt in honor of my daughters for the afternoon. I usually get comments about the shirts when I wear them, so I thought today would be a good day to put one on. In honor of myself, I have not done the day's dishes yet. They will wait until tomorrow when it is not my special day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;On a scale of 1-10 I may not be very high but I would not be the father that I am without a few other factors in my life. First, I grew up in a home where respect, love and family meant something. I think my home and heritage helps me as a Dad. Secondly, we have three daughters who love their parents and were easily molded and have become beautiful young women of whom I am very proud. And thirdly I am an o.k. Dad because of the helper that lives with me. Sharlene is the rock that helps me be a better man. I have said it many times and I mean every single syllable: I hate to think where I might be if Sharlene and I had not met and married. She is the blessing! Whoever I am I owe to her. And lastly, God has blessed me so much. He has blessed me with my heritage, my girls and my wife. He has blessed me by taking care of us all. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I heard a man say on the radio yesterday that the richest men in the world were the ones who get to be called Dad. Man, I am rich!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This one is mine, "Four of the greatest words I can ever hear are, I Love You, Dad." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am very blessed, my girls tell me that all the time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And one other note...This was my first father's day without my Dad. You know, I really am o.k., I just miss him a lot. He enjoyed his kids so much. It did not matter if it was Father's Day or just June 21. He loved to be with each of the kids who called him Dad.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had a nice father's day. It was not the same as when surrounded by my girls, or to be with my own Dad, but I was able to count my blessings and that was o.k.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4461919636247721472-3032362166861660005?l=eezeekeezee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/feeds/3032362166861660005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4461919636247721472&amp;postID=3032362166861660005' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/3032362166861660005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/3032362166861660005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/2009/06/fathers-day-2009.html' title='Father&apos;s Day 2009'/><author><name>Bobby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17863725503629640184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S_r7hL1ldRI/AAAAAAAAAJw/J8y6MNUSgsk/S220/DSC_1141.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/Sj6u2T0qc9I/AAAAAAAAACc/9tgJiXy5p6I/s72-c/DSCN3113.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461919636247721472.post-1552669660458741557</id><published>2009-06-16T06:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-26T06:57:02.720-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My little blue car</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/Sj7Cp6TSejI/AAAAAAAAADE/RKuFqQvPHR8/s1600-h/DSCN3129.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349927432643312178" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/Sj7Cp6TSejI/AAAAAAAAADE/RKuFqQvPHR8/s320/DSCN3129.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/Sj7CpY5E_gI/AAAAAAAAAC8/3TMjcQPfhaQ/s1600-h/DSCN3128.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349927423675006466" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/Sj7CpY5E_gI/AAAAAAAAAC8/3TMjcQPfhaQ/s320/DSCN3128.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/Sj7CpJaRIZI/AAAAAAAAAC0/q-O_Ge8Hlr0/s1600-h/DSCN3127.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349927419519246738" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/Sj7CpJaRIZI/AAAAAAAAAC0/q-O_Ge8Hlr0/s320/DSCN3127.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This week has another memorable day in it for me. Every year on the 22nd day of June there are special moments that come to my mind. It was on June 22, 1972, that I bought my 1972 Plymouth Duster. Every year I think about my little car. Here are a few of the facts:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The saleman's name was Ralph Power.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The cost was $2,300.00. Actually it was $2,369.oo including the 3% sales tax.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Don't remember the miles. I think less than 50. It was brand new.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The loan was from First National Bank&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The loan officer was Andy Andrews&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The payment I think was $76.00 per month.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I could not have bought it without my Dad's help.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It did not have air conditioning. Many times I regretted that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It did have a nice radio.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It had a 225 slant six engine.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was on cloud nine.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;What memories I have with my car. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I changed the oil every 2,000 miles. My first road trip with it was to Philmont Boy Scout Ranch in New Mexico with Jon Weinman and Steve Henderson.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I could write many stories about it but today I am just remembering it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today it sits on a hill east of town. One of my millionare dreams would be to restore it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;There are many things that need to be done before that happens.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just think of it every June 22 and nearly every 22nd day of every month.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/Sj6uMaGccXI/AAAAAAAAACU/_wJ288nDawQ/s1600-h/DSCN3122.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349904935550742898" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/Sj6uMaGccXI/AAAAAAAAACU/_wJ288nDawQ/s320/DSCN3122.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4461919636247721472-1552669660458741557?l=eezeekeezee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/feeds/1552669660458741557/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4461919636247721472&amp;postID=1552669660458741557' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/1552669660458741557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/1552669660458741557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-little-blue-car.html' title='My little blue car'/><author><name>Bobby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17863725503629640184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S_r7hL1ldRI/AAAAAAAAAJw/J8y6MNUSgsk/S220/DSC_1141.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/Sj7Cp6TSejI/AAAAAAAAADE/RKuFqQvPHR8/s72-c/DSCN3129.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461919636247721472.post-2126949433165772458</id><published>2009-06-01T19:39:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-26T06:59:06.551-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Beautiful Girls (Part 2)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SjZjjsheRxI/AAAAAAAAABU/0YEFxP-yY_I/s1600-h/100_0639.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347571072447170322" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SjZjjsheRxI/AAAAAAAAABU/0YEFxP-yY_I/s320/100_0639.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As I said earlier I feel I have always been surrounded by beautiful women.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SjZjjxI8TiI/AAAAAAAAABc/rVeIxPCOm9A/s1600-h/100_0585.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347571073686457890" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SjZjjxI8TiI/AAAAAAAAABc/rVeIxPCOm9A/s320/100_0585.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thirty three years ago I was introduced to another beautiful young woman. She has helped me become a much better man than I would have been if she had not come into my life. She is now my partner, my wife and my love. She is tender. She is kind. She is sincere. She is strong. Doing things for people around her is something she enjoys. She teaches class at church and loves the children that she teaches. She went on a mission trip to Japan last summer. She serves God daily. She is my idol.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SjZjkHLbH6I/AAAAAAAAABk/QNrNHTCotPQ/s1600-h/100_0579.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347571079602446242" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SjZjkHLbH6I/AAAAAAAAABk/QNrNHTCotPQ/s320/100_0579.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Because of her we were blessed with three beautiful daughters. Aside from genetics, which Sharlene did have a big part of, ( I know I am biased, but I think my girl's physical beauty is hard to match), she helped make these daughters of mine beautiful people. They are tender, kind, loving and more words than I can say, just very special. Sharlene's example and guidance has helped make them who they are.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SjZqxfC5D5I/AAAAAAAAAB0/o73QAHACMBU/s1600-h/1002363.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347579005928804242" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SjZqxfC5D5I/AAAAAAAAAB0/o73QAHACMBU/s320/1002363.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now, my beautiful girls have found some pretty special men. Jacqueline's Jordan, Pam's Jeremy and now Annie's Jared. The boys are welcome additions to the family and they bring a new beauty to my girls.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SkQT2hIW0lI/AAAAAAAAADM/uR9UZ3o5N1Y/s1600-h/101_2699.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351424084550275666" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SkQT2hIW0lI/AAAAAAAAADM/uR9UZ3o5N1Y/s320/101_2699.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;To complete the circle, Jacqueline, with Jordan (of course) has, through the wonder and miracle of birth, brought to us by God another beautiful little girl named Chloe Mae. Such a tender sweet little girl. I know Grandpas (and Pappys) are biased, but she sure is something. She is communicating in many ways right now, but I can't wait to hear her say, "Let's go for a walk Pappy!" or "I sure would like some ice cream, Grandpa."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SjZsXlwMBoI/AAAAAAAAACM/7lJVtPupTCA/s1600-h/R1-+4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347580760076060290" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 216px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SjZsXlwMBoI/AAAAAAAAACM/7lJVtPupTCA/s320/R1-+4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SjZsMYradCI/AAAAAAAAACE/Hm5vACty3FM/s1600-h/R1-+6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347580567587812386" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 216px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SjZsMYradCI/AAAAAAAAACE/Hm5vACty3FM/s320/R1-+6.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;God has always blessed me with beautiful women. With my new little granddaughter the blessing is continuing. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4461919636247721472-2126949433165772458?l=eezeekeezee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/feeds/2126949433165772458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4461919636247721472&amp;postID=2126949433165772458' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/2126949433165772458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/2126949433165772458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/2009/06/beautiful-girls-part-2.html' title='Beautiful Girls (Part 2)'/><author><name>Bobby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17863725503629640184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S_r7hL1ldRI/AAAAAAAAAJw/J8y6MNUSgsk/S220/DSC_1141.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SjZjjsheRxI/AAAAAAAAABU/0YEFxP-yY_I/s72-c/100_0639.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461919636247721472.post-5997623235876498469</id><published>2009-05-28T06:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-30T09:23:08.719-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jacqueline's Blog Rating System</title><content type='html'>Blog rating so there will be no suprises:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;B - (Senseless, silly,  words of babel.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;H - (Humor or laughter might come from reading. At least a smile.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I - (Informative. Just for information and pleasure of reading.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;T - (Probability of tears.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4461919636247721472-5997623235876498469?l=eezeekeezee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/feeds/5997623235876498469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4461919636247721472&amp;postID=5997623235876498469' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/5997623235876498469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/5997623235876498469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/2009/05/jacquelines-blog-rating-system.html' title='Jacqueline&apos;s Blog Rating System'/><author><name>Bobby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17863725503629640184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S_r7hL1ldRI/AAAAAAAAAJw/J8y6MNUSgsk/S220/DSC_1141.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461919636247721472.post-6405276885107563597</id><published>2009-05-19T19:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-26T06:59:24.467-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Beautiful Girls (Part One)</title><content type='html'>I have always been blessed to be surrounded by beautiful women.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the everyday activities during High School was what we called "dragging main." No, we did not drag race and the street was our main street, but the street's name was State Street. So I do not know where the term came from. Well, most of the time my car was full of people. Sometimes my guy friends and sometimes girls who were my friends. Up and down "Main" we would go. Talking, laughing, honking at others who were doing the same thing and just having a good time. A big part of the time I had a car load of girls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On some evenings while at college I would get a phone call while I was "studying" in my dorm room. The sweet voice on the other end would say, "Robert, could you take us to Taco Grande? Or, "Would you take us to A&amp;amp;W for a chile pie?" That made me feel pretty special, so I would go down and hop in my powder blue 1972 Plymouth Duster and drive over to McMindes Hall. When I parked at the front door out would come 4 or 5 girls and away we would go. People would wonder what I was doing in the booth at Taco Grande with 5 girls and myself but I was fine with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eight years ago I became part of another group of very special women. The Kansas Register of Deeds Association is made up of the Register of Deeds from each county in the state of Kansas. For those of you who do not remember your Kansas History, there are 105 counties in Kansas. I was one of 3 males at that time in the whole state who occupied the office of Register of Deeds. The first state meeting that I attended was kind of overwhelming. Most of you know how outgoing and dynamic I am. I think the ladies sensed my insecurity for I was greeted with warmth and kindness. I have never been in any organization where I have been so accepted for what I am. They have helped me grow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to my reason for this post. Once again I am surrounded by beautiful women each day. They are all different. They all make me feel very special.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/Sh1xrnLW36I/AAAAAAAAAAs/mhdj_3sTUDM/s1600-h/005_3A.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340549727196209058" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/Sh1xrnLW36I/AAAAAAAAAAs/mhdj_3sTUDM/s320/005_3A.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I was elected Register of Deeds eight years ago I also was introduced to another group of beautiful women at the Phillips County Courthouse. I have had the privilege ( I really mean that) to work with 10-12 (depending on the day) special ladies that also work there. It is hard to explain, but they each have a very special place in my heart. Seeing them &lt;strong&gt;at&lt;/strong&gt; work, which is what I did for many years when I worked across the street , was different than working &lt;strong&gt;with&lt;/strong&gt; them as I do now. They know their jobs and do them well. The personalities may differ but they are all professional. I am proud to work with them. These gals are special, beautiful women to me. Their bright eyes and warm smiles make my day better. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SiUeFZkMVYI/AAAAAAAAABE/3VdOySuQW6I/s1600-h/006_4.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342709611055830402" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SiUeFZkMVYI/AAAAAAAAABE/3VdOySuQW6I/s320/006_4.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Many times I am sure they do not know what to do with that Robert, Bob, Bobby, Mister Bob across the hall but I have a good time just being in that courthouse. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SiUeVWIix6I/AAAAAAAAABM/kiNgFhw9NXI/s1600-h/004_2A.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342709885012461474" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SiUeVWIix6I/AAAAAAAAABM/kiNgFhw9NXI/s320/004_2A.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love my job. I love the history that is told from the records in my office. I love helping fit pieces together that pertain to the story of the ownership of the land of Phillips County. I also love my job because of the beautiful "inside and out" women that I have the privilege to work with each day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4461919636247721472-6405276885107563597?l=eezeekeezee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/feeds/6405276885107563597/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4461919636247721472&amp;postID=6405276885107563597' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/6405276885107563597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/6405276885107563597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/2009/05/beautiful-girls-part-one.html' title='Beautiful Girls (Part One)'/><author><name>Bobby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17863725503629640184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S_r7hL1ldRI/AAAAAAAAAJw/J8y6MNUSgsk/S220/DSC_1141.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/Sh1xrnLW36I/AAAAAAAAAAs/mhdj_3sTUDM/s72-c/005_3A.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461919636247721472.post-4808448316245813116</id><published>2009-05-13T20:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-15T15:36:51.504-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Best Friends</title><content type='html'>When I was young, up to about 8th grade, my best friend was my cousin Mirvin. We were only a year apart in age and he only lived a few blocks down the street. Seems like he would spend friday night at my house one weekend and I would be at his the next. We rode our bikes everywhere. He could always get there faster, it seemed. I always blamed it on my bike, but it was probably because he was in better shape than me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;High school came and I had many friends. Two of my best ones were Wayne Schneider and Jon Weinman. Wayne was a little on the wild side, but at times I suppose so was I. For many years and even now when we run into each other, he is still very genuine and is special to me. Jon was a year younger than me. We raced cars together. Went hunting. He was my roomate at college for one semester and is still a friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When college came I had a friend named Steve Sprague. We lived in the same dorm together at Fort Hays. We were very close. We always thought that we thought alike, we liked the same things. We went fishing together. We were just very close. I even overheard his beautiful wife Bev tell someone that when she married Steve she did not know that I came with the package. I never had a friend like Steve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone else was my best friend of all. He and I could talk politics. We could talk religion. We could share home challenges. We loved the Phillips County countryside. I was able to go to work with him every working day for over 20 years. We went to church together everytime the doors were open. He was my mentor. He was the one I looked up to in spite of his faults. He loved me in spite of mine. He was my Dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ten weeks ago tonight I lost him. We all lost him. I still have a treasure in my friend and wife Sharlene. But he was my man friend. The early days after he left us have been kind of a blur. But now memories are coming back. When the phone rings in the afternoon, I know it is not him, but I think, "Well, this is about the time Dad would call." When I look at the wheat crop, I think, I would be telling Dad about how good the wheat looks. We then might go up to look at his wheat, just to know. We had home made ice cream last weekend. Boy, there were few things Dad liked better than home made ice cream. I could always count on him for at least two dishes. Man, I miss him. The numbness is wearing off. He would have loved being able to hold his my new grandbaby and his new great-grandbaby last weekend. He would have loved the dogs too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I would have asked him more questions. I wish I would have paid closer attention to the things he told me. I knew his time was getting shorter, I just thought I would have more time to do those things. It just does not always work the way we think we have it figured out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is just another reminder of who is really in charge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like the song Willie Nelson sings, he is always on my mind, he is always on my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just miss my Dad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4461919636247721472-4808448316245813116?l=eezeekeezee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/feeds/4808448316245813116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4461919636247721472&amp;postID=4808448316245813116' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/4808448316245813116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/4808448316245813116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/2009/05/best-friends.html' title='Best Friends'/><author><name>Bobby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17863725503629640184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S_r7hL1ldRI/AAAAAAAAAJw/J8y6MNUSgsk/S220/DSC_1141.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461919636247721472.post-6086431683764233477</id><published>2009-04-28T15:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T06:28:53.160-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lady and the Tramp--OR Maddie and Ted</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SffJC80iLpI/AAAAAAAAAAU/-fiRAb3GkPE/s1600-h/000_0173.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329949736539664018" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SffJC80iLpI/AAAAAAAAAAU/-fiRAb3GkPE/s320/000_0173.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SffJCug7eZI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7U9ocbRmxww/s1600-h/000_0175.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329949732699339154" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SffJCug7eZI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7U9ocbRmxww/s320/000_0175.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;To save space I will write in some short incomplete sentences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, there is this cute little dog Maddie. Little Maddie came into, what is referred to in many different ways, but we will just say it is a condition where little puppies are able to be created. O.K. so the Momma of our house (Sharlene) leaves for Chicago when this condition begins. Then the Dad of the house (Me) gets back home. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The Backyard fence has been "under construction" for several months. It is not perfect but it has kept little Miss "able to conceived" contained. Well, one afternoon Dad goes home to take Maddie on a ride to Great Bend. The backyard is empty. No Maddie! (I may give more details of what goes on between this moment in time and the next paragraph, but just not now)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;About 10 minutes later Maddie is located running with a big yellow or golden lab. I grab her and get her into the car. He tries to get in too. He is not welcome. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well about a week goes by. Last Sunday morning Maddie and I are coming back from our walk and ride and who is walking around our house? The big yellow, golden lab. (The Tramp) I carry Maddie into the house. We go out to go to church. He (The Tramp) is lying on the front porch. We come home from church, he is still on the front porch. We go for a ride in the afternoon. He is on the front porch when we leave and ON THE BACK PORCH WHEN WE GET HOME!! There is another story about him digging in. (Which may come later) But I think he had worked the gate open. Mandie and Josh's dog did that. Anyway- - He had to go out side the fence. Then he tried to chew the gate open. Oh, I may not have mentioned Maddie may still have smelled good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sunday night he spends the night under the evergreen bush. He wants to go on a walk with Maddie (and me) Monday morning, but does not get to. He stays at our house all day. I take Sharlene to Dr. in Holdrege. We get home late in the evening - he is still there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, he is a beautiful dog. He has a very sweet face. He is gentle. He is very calm. He was helping me unload the van last night and I told him, "I can't call you Tramp. You are too pretty. I will call you Ted." He stared at me and seemed to understand. I also thought, he seems so smart. I will ask him to sit. "Sit" I said. Sit he did. He sat down, leaned back, brought up his front paws and said, Look at me!. I think he then said, "Can I stay?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So he is kind of growing on me. I find out through Hollie at work who his owner might be. I go home at 5:30 to get Sharlene's mail and when I come home from the Post Office he is not there. I was getting kind of sad feeling. I look across the street and coming from the courthouse is Ted. He makes is across the street with his tail a waggin'. He is glad to see me too! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Don't get ahead of yourself folks. As I was getting more things out of the car someone pulled up in front of the house. They were not Ted's owner, but they knew him. They knew his name was really Joe. Hollie had told me that too. They knew he was a real sweet dog. They were going to have supper with Ted's owner at the Horsehoe. Ted's owner did not want him. They thought they might. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, Sharlene and I went to a school program last night. When we left my Ted was wagging his tail and standing in the front yard. When we came back he was gone. He did not greet Maddie and I at 6:00 this morning at walk time, so I guess he is really gone. Yes, I kind of miss him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I did get his picture. He was sure a sweet dog. I learned a few things from Ted. First to listen to my wife. She did not think the fence was the greatest. Secondly, determined dogs can do about anything. She told me that too. (Especially when there is a female in that certain condition). A person can fall in love with a dog, and even other people, in a very short period of time. And once again, appreciate and treasure time you have with others, no matter how small it may seem. And appreciate the things we have. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am glad I got a picture.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4461919636247721472-6086431683764233477?l=eezeekeezee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/feeds/6086431683764233477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4461919636247721472&amp;postID=6086431683764233477' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/6086431683764233477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/6086431683764233477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/2009/04/lady-and-tramp-or-maddie-and-ted.html' title='Lady and the Tramp--OR Maddie and Ted'/><author><name>Bobby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17863725503629640184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S_r7hL1ldRI/AAAAAAAAAJw/J8y6MNUSgsk/S220/DSC_1141.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/SffJC80iLpI/AAAAAAAAAAU/-fiRAb3GkPE/s72-c/000_0173.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461919636247721472.post-8675752922132995123</id><published>2009-04-19T18:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-19T19:13:06.948-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Softly and Tenderly</title><content type='html'>A few months ago I told my girls about my Dad's voice getting softer.  Not too many years ago and as long before that as I can remember, my Dad's booming bass voice filled the church building when we sang.  He knew the notes to sing and sing out he did.  Many loved to sing songs with a bass lead and hear him sing.  The song s"Our God, He is Alive" and "Lead me gently home father" are examples.  Over the past few months before he passed away that voice grew fainter.  On the last Wednesday night he came to church I noticed how faintly I could hear that voice.  The harmony was so nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I led singing.  I don't think anymore that God cares too much about the sounds we make nearly as much as the fact that the melody comes from our heart.  The music is beautiful when sang as written, but God wants the song from our hearts no matter how it sounds.  Well, our numbers were kind of sparce this morning and there was a lot of singing from the heart going on.  Whenever I used to lead a song that I was not too sure about I sometimes thought, "That big ole bass voice of my Dad will cover my musical mistakes as well as my just plain insecurity." and it did.  Dad could help with the tempo, he could make it sound like there were more people than there were really in the room.  I do  not think that his voice was overpowering,  just full.  This morning I was having a hard time leading the songs.  I was wishing I could hear that bass.  -- even just the thin,  faint bass, to help carry me through. - But it was not there.   I long to hear the big bass, but I would just really love to hear anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There have been times when we would have visitors come and some would say to the visitors, "I sure enjoyed hearing your bass voice."  Their  voices were fine.  They did a great job.  But the voice that I heard then, and every time the door was open for services was my Dad's. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We lost Dad about six weeks ago.  His life ended while he was sitting at his office.  I think, and I have told many of you this, that there is only one place that he would rather have been other than his office when his time came and that is sitting and participating at church.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will not be able to hear that voice any longer, but the message he gave about the importance of attendance will not be forgotten.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4461919636247721472-8675752922132995123?l=eezeekeezee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/feeds/8675752922132995123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4461919636247721472&amp;postID=8675752922132995123' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/8675752922132995123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/8675752922132995123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/2009/04/softly-and-tenderly.html' title='Softly and Tenderly'/><author><name>Bobby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17863725503629640184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S_r7hL1ldRI/AAAAAAAAAJw/J8y6MNUSgsk/S220/DSC_1141.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461919636247721472.post-2425548274948559777</id><published>2009-04-04T20:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-18T21:08:37.242-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Grandpa?--Yes, Grandpa!!!!!!!!</title><content type='html'>O.K. The other day one of the sweet ladies that I work with said to me, "Well, Bob, are you getting excited about being a Grandpa?" I told her, "Boy, that makes me feel old. Grandpas are old." I thought to myself, "Am I old?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I have been missing the point. One of my 3 beautiful daughters, Jacqueline, just had a baby. That alone makes her a beautiful baby. Now there will be a little one that will walk up to me one day and say, "Come on, Grandpa, lets go for a ride! Or, Grandpa, can you come to my recital? Or I will say to the 24 year old mother sitting next to me at a school program, "That's my Granddaughter, the one in the middle with the big smile." I will get to hold a little girl's hand again. So soft, tender and full of love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you Lord, for the blessing of my wife. Thank you for the blessing of our three beautiful (inside and out) daughters. Thank you for the blessing of the three young men who are part of their lives and thank you for this little granddaughter Chloe Mae.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4461919636247721472-2425548274948559777?l=eezeekeezee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/feeds/2425548274948559777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4461919636247721472&amp;postID=2425548274948559777' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/2425548274948559777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/2425548274948559777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/2009/04/grandpa-yes-grandpa.html' title='Grandpa?--Yes, Grandpa!!!!!!!!'/><author><name>Bobby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17863725503629640184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S_r7hL1ldRI/AAAAAAAAAJw/J8y6MNUSgsk/S220/DSC_1141.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461919636247721472.post-1970288951855889616</id><published>2007-10-09T19:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-09T20:06:33.862-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A possible temporay start.</title><content type='html'>Hello to all. I am sure the majority of those reading these words will be the 4 most important women in my life but to anyone else, welcome.   This will be a work in progress, because I have to take care of some bread in the oven and will not be able to finish this for a while.  That may be the temporary part of this message too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4461919636247721472-1970288951855889616?l=eezeekeezee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/feeds/1970288951855889616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4461919636247721472&amp;postID=1970288951855889616' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/1970288951855889616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4461919636247721472/posts/default/1970288951855889616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eezeekeezee.blogspot.com/2007/10/possible-temporay-start.html' title='A possible temporay start.'/><author><name>Bobby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17863725503629640184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EOdSZ0pOvng/S_r7hL1ldRI/AAAAAAAAAJw/J8y6MNUSgsk/S220/DSC_1141.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
