<?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-5894986508243658390</id><updated>2012-01-06T06:52:12.637-08:00</updated><category term='exercise'/><category term='Mom&apos;s childhood.'/><category term='singing'/><category term='family get-togethers'/><category term='Luke'/><category term='Ann Dee'/><category term='Katy'/><category term='graduation'/><category term='Lenon'/><category term='California'/><category term='Dad'/><category term='Van'/><category term='Holly'/><category term='triathalon'/><category term='personal history'/><category term='Larry'/><category term='Lacy'/><category term='Tyson'/><category term='bullying'/><category term='Kristi'/><category term='swimming'/><category term='Lindsy'/><category term='Cameron'/><category term='Tod'/><category term='video'/><category term='Kari'/><category term='Samantha'/><category term='Grandma Knight'/><category term='Jewel'/><category term='naked'/><category term='Father&apos;s Day'/><category term='Mom'/><category term='Tootsie'/><category term='kids'/><category term='Mother&apos;s Day'/><title type='text'>And that's a word with a bark on it!!!!</title><subtitle type='html'>A Blog About Mom and Dad</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Ann Dee</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>59</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-8592340466816198855</id><published>2011-12-16T09:13:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-16T09:13:26.471-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Larry'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Father&apos;s Day'/><title type='text'>Father's Day 2005</title><content type='html'>&lt;iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="300" mozallowfullscreen="" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/33777259?title=0&amp;amp;byline=0&amp;amp;portrait=0" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="400"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://vimeo.com/33777259"&gt;Father's Day 2005&lt;/a&gt; from &lt;a href="http://vimeo.com/katyknight"&gt;Katy Knight&lt;/a&gt; on &lt;a href="http://vimeo.com/"&gt;Vimeo&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-8592340466816198855?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/8592340466816198855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=8592340466816198855' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/8592340466816198855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/8592340466816198855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2011/12/fathers-day-2005.html' title='Father&apos;s Day 2005'/><author><name>Katy Knight</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/115970380974055426367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-U_4Aib8pz08/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAD2Y/tdKIjoFNnlc/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-176189364166777097</id><published>2011-12-16T04:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-16T04:51:03.247-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Katy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jewel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><title type='text'>Letter to Mom</title><content type='html'>I gave this letter to mom a coupe of weeks ago as part of my "step 9" ... I don't think she read it so I wanted to share it with all of by siblings:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Dear Mom,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;I miss you. I really appreciate what a great mom you were tome and are now. You worked hard for your family. You lived the gospel andtaught your children the gospel. You sacrificed your own wants and desires soyour children would have opportunities in life. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;I appreciate you having me learn to play the violin. Theprocess of daily practice and precision has crossed over into other parts of mylife, especially in relation to spiritual matters. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;You always knew what I needed even when I didn’t. Your focuson scripture study, and prayer was a great example to me. Because of yourexample, I “know what source I should look to for a remission of my sins.” (2Nephi 25:26) You were a great support to me in helping me resolve some of thephysical hardships that a teenager faces such as braces, acne, and weight. Iappreciate you letting me be who I wanted to be. I knew you were proud of mefor being kind to my peers in junior high and high school and for the goodgrades and extra curricular activities I was involved in.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;I’m proud of you for what you are doing now in your life.You are an example of enduring to the end and doing it well. I know it isn’teasy and you wish you could skip this part. I’m not sure why we have to gothrough the things we do but I do believe it is to make better as well as thosearound us better. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt;"&gt;I love you. Thank you for encouraging me to nothide and to show the world and myself who I really am. I finally have figuredout how to do that and I realize now that that was what you were trying to getme to do for so many years.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-176189364166777097?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/176189364166777097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=176189364166777097' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/176189364166777097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/176189364166777097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2011/12/letter-to-mom.html' title='Letter to Mom'/><author><name>Katy Knight</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/115970380974055426367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-U_4Aib8pz08/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAD2Y/tdKIjoFNnlc/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-4567070844292788862</id><published>2011-12-16T03:17:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-16T09:13:44.177-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mother&apos;s Day'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jewel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><title type='text'>Mother's Day 2005</title><content type='html'>&lt;iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="300" mozallowfullscreen="" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/33764883?title=0&amp;amp;byline=0&amp;amp;portrait=0" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="400"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://vimeo.com/33764883"&gt;Mother's Day 2005&lt;/a&gt; from &lt;a href="http://vimeo.com/user9609996"&gt;Katy Knight&lt;/a&gt; on &lt;a href="http://vimeo.com/"&gt;Vimeo&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-4567070844292788862?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/4567070844292788862/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=4567070844292788862' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/4567070844292788862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/4567070844292788862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2011/12/mothers-day-2005.html' title='Mother&apos;s Day 2005'/><author><name>Katy Knight</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/115970380974055426367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-U_4Aib8pz08/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAD2Y/tdKIjoFNnlc/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-905510995838847427</id><published>2009-01-29T19:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T21:08:09.944-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Everyone Loves Lacy</title><content type='html'>We just wanted to give an update on our Lacy. She has had a rough week. She was admitted to the AF Hospital last Friday because the mild case of pneumonia had progressed and the injection of antibiotics hadn't helped at all. She was weezing and breathing rapidly. The doctor anticipated her being in the hospital until Sunday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For about 3 days there was little improvement other than the fever was gone. She was on up to 5.5 liters of oxygen and her oxygen saturation at times was still too low. She has had to have breathing treatments that include them blowing medicine in gas form in her face thru a mask while thumping her on the back for about 5-7 minutes. You can guess how much she enjoys that. It took 3 nurses about an hour and 5 injections to finally get her IV in. The saddest part has been that she has a hard time understanding why we / they are doing these things to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fortunately today she was able to go for a good portion of the day with no oxygen and kept her saturation levels over 90. The doc says if she can do well tonight she may be able to go home tomorrow. It looks like the worst part is over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are a few pics from the ordeal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DnQnaAiq3kg/SYJ-LDe6-EI/AAAAAAAAAIo/dzzSAadMYbU/s1600-h/PIC_0092.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296934840119785538" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DnQnaAiq3kg/SYJ-LDe6-EI/AAAAAAAAAIo/dzzSAadMYbU/s320/PIC_0092.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Just before the IV&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DnQnaAiq3kg/SYJ-m3rQu5I/AAAAAAAAAI4/8dUj_YHP_mg/s1600-h/PIC_0094.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296935317986655122" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DnQnaAiq3kg/SYJ-m3rQu5I/AAAAAAAAAI4/8dUj_YHP_mg/s320/PIC_0094.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; This was during halftime of the IV battle. They had just given up on her left arm at this point and were getting ready to try the right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DnQnaAiq3kg/SYJ-uyEPMPI/AAAAAAAAAJA/iEWtthZ7g9Q/s1600-h/PIC_0100.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296935453919752434" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DnQnaAiq3kg/SYJ-uyEPMPI/AAAAAAAAAJA/iEWtthZ7g9Q/s320/PIC_0100.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;One of the few times she allowed them to put the mask on for her breathing treatment&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DnQnaAiq3kg/SYJ_IoINaNI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/6Sj2ZhGuiz4/s1600-h/PIC_0105.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296935897928657106" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DnQnaAiq3kg/SYJ_IoINaNI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/6Sj2ZhGuiz4/s320/PIC_0105.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Daddy time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DnQnaAiq3kg/SYJ_B1fqNvI/AAAAAAAAAJI/SwYavp_sqnA/s1600-h/PIC_0096.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296935781257590514" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DnQnaAiq3kg/SYJ_B1fqNvI/AAAAAAAAAJI/SwYavp_sqnA/s320/PIC_0096.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Mommy time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DnQnaAiq3kg/SYJ_VGKqQ5I/AAAAAAAAAJY/Qd23yvsqado/s1600-h/IMAGE_077.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 256px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296936112150430610" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DnQnaAiq3kg/SYJ_VGKqQ5I/AAAAAAAAAJY/Qd23yvsqado/s320/IMAGE_077.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Sister Lindsy was her favorite visitor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;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 class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-905510995838847427?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/905510995838847427/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=905510995838847427' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/905510995838847427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/905510995838847427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2009/01/everyone-loves-lacy.html' title='Everyone Loves Lacy'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17452949629903939339</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DnQnaAiq3kg/SYJ-LDe6-EI/AAAAAAAAAIo/dzzSAadMYbU/s72-c/PIC_0092.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-3115189163784404674</id><published>2009-01-21T15:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-21T15:16:55.247-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Does Anyone Ever Check This Blog Anymore?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DnQnaAiq3kg/SXes0IkYtyI/AAAAAAAAAIY/LCe_fBkOgzk/s1600-h/PIC_0011.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293889898650580770" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DnQnaAiq3kg/SXes0IkYtyI/AAAAAAAAAIY/LCe_fBkOgzk/s320/PIC_0011.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;NEEDER MAR!!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-3115189163784404674?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/3115189163784404674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=3115189163784404674' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/3115189163784404674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/3115189163784404674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2009/01/does-anyone-ever-check-this-blog.html' title='Does Anyone Ever Check This Blog Anymore?'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17452949629903939339</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DnQnaAiq3kg/SXes0IkYtyI/AAAAAAAAAIY/LCe_fBkOgzk/s72-c/PIC_0011.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-8184881779723964175</id><published>2008-05-13T11:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-24T16:46:03.637-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family get-togethers'/><title type='text'>Park City Plans</title><content type='html'>This information is from Sandy:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We want everyone to be responsible for an activity and a dessert on their assigned night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Friday-Ann Dee/Katy&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Saturday- Amy&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sunday-Donielle/Grandma &amp;amp; Grandpa&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Monday- Sandy&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Tuesday-Leslie&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Wednesday-Paulette&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Thursday-Karen&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;Daytime activities:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Hikes&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Biking&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Swim Meet(I will kick your butts, except I'm not putting on a swim suit)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Movie night (can anyone find a projector)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Heber Creeper&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Alpine Slide&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Olympic Park&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Jeremy will take everyone one on a bargain hunting shopping trip to the outlet mall&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Road Show&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Fishing&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;River rafting&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;yoga&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A day at the reservoir(rent jet skis and maybe a boat)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;a small triathalon (I will kick your butts)15- Ann Dee wants a prom night(she thinks we live in Kentucky)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;Fun times for all. e-mail Sandy at sdearden@dsdmail.net with questions, concerns or suggestions - or you can post a comment on this post.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-8184881779723964175?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/8184881779723964175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=8184881779723964175' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/8184881779723964175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/8184881779723964175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2008/05/park-city-plans.html' title='Park City Plans'/><author><name>Katy Knight</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/115970380974055426367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-U_4Aib8pz08/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAD2Y/tdKIjoFNnlc/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-2852546721618091315</id><published>2008-05-10T13:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-24T16:45:09.152-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='video'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='graduation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kari'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kristi'/><title type='text'>Kristi and Kari graduate in 2005</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-26ad0a62d401a9f9" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v15.nonxt1.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D26ad0a62d401a9f9%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331320308%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D153C9BC688AE41B1FDB2AE18372AD19166403230.746109986EF3E4A406574EC658647F24A7009B2E%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D26ad0a62d401a9f9%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DIpRdsQwYnkgm2CAGuK_r1h7YEiY&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v15.nonxt1.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D26ad0a62d401a9f9%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331320308%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D153C9BC688AE41B1FDB2AE18372AD19166403230.746109986EF3E4A406574EC658647F24A7009B2E%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D26ad0a62d401a9f9%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DIpRdsQwYnkgm2CAGuK_r1h7YEiY&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-2852546721618091315?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=26ad0a62d401a9f9&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/2852546721618091315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=2852546721618091315' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/2852546721618091315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/2852546721618091315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2008/05/kristi-and-kari-graduate-in-2005.html' title='Kristi and Kari graduate in 2005'/><author><name>Katy Knight</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/115970380974055426367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-U_4Aib8pz08/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAD2Y/tdKIjoFNnlc/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-7891543432938332398</id><published>2008-05-10T13:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-24T16:44:50.382-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='video'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Samantha'/><title type='text'>Samantha before a race</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-86154874747df098" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v6.nonxt8.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D86154874747df098%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331320308%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D96AC56E2E5D26DA2C6C4A78ACF76F1879C227B6.6476222946ACEA43B6B4ADC851046C772FBA2463%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D86154874747df098%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DFzPyclngoWotPkOSWOoFz08YilM&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v6.nonxt8.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D86154874747df098%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331320308%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D96AC56E2E5D26DA2C6C4A78ACF76F1879C227B6.6476222946ACEA43B6B4ADC851046C772FBA2463%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D86154874747df098%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DFzPyclngoWotPkOSWOoFz08YilM&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-7891543432938332398?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=86154874747df098&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/7891543432938332398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=7891543432938332398' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/7891543432938332398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/7891543432938332398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2008/05/samantha-before-race.html' title='Samantha before a race'/><author><name>Katy Knight</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/115970380974055426367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-U_4Aib8pz08/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAD2Y/tdKIjoFNnlc/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-2260763816887031118</id><published>2008-05-10T13:45:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-24T16:44:34.348-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='video'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Van'/><title type='text'>Van does patty cake</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-960c7b573df709e4" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v19.nonxt2.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D960c7b573df709e4%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331320308%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D6507702A3901BFDE47639EA8500E26D2215A4D63.5488C7848F1E14418CE97568BE23B72A66E071BE%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D960c7b573df709e4%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DScsrV5Bqpy_ru80pAxL2Oz22yjw&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v19.nonxt2.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D960c7b573df709e4%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331320308%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D6507702A3901BFDE47639EA8500E26D2215A4D63.5488C7848F1E14418CE97568BE23B72A66E071BE%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D960c7b573df709e4%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DScsrV5Bqpy_ru80pAxL2Oz22yjw&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-2260763816887031118?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=960c7b573df709e4&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/2260763816887031118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=2260763816887031118' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/2260763816887031118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/2260763816887031118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2008/05/van-does-patty-cake.html' title='Van does patty cake'/><author><name>Katy Knight</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/115970380974055426367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-U_4Aib8pz08/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAD2Y/tdKIjoFNnlc/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-5825309517482445042</id><published>2008-05-04T08:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-24T16:44:16.511-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tyson'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='personal history'/><title type='text'>Personal History #8 -  Tyson Daniel Knight</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/SB3YikAu_2I/AAAAAAAABE4/xqamN9U6wJc/s1600-h/Picture+1.png"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/SB3YikAu_2I/AAAAAAAABE4/xqamN9U6wJc/s400/Picture+1.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196547633349328738" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Tyson was born on February 20, 2000.  He was born the day after his mom's 30th birthday.  His delivery was difficult for both him and his  mom.  He was 8 days overdue and the doctor had to induce labor to get things started.  During the final days before he was born he had breathed in a little bit of miconium which was a minor concern but caused them to monitor things a little closer.  Amy's labor developed very slowly and after about 8 - 10 hours we could tell the nurse and doctor started to worry a little. The umbilical cord was in a bad position near his throat and every time Amy had a contraction it would put pressure on the cord and his heart rate would go way down. Anyway, at some point they came in and talked to us about the possibility of doing a C-section if things didn't progress soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well things finally progressed to the point where the doctor came in and said it was time to push.  Looking back now after having 3 other kids I now realize that she was nowhere near ready for delivery.  He had these giant tongs that he used to reach way up and grab Tyson's head and every time she had a contraction he'd have her push while at the same time he was pulling on Ty's little head with the huge tongs.  It was very scary and I really thought he was either going to cause brain damage or pull the poor guy's head off.  Finally he came out and they hurried and got him over to the heat lamp where a respiratory specialist cleared out his lungs and got him breathing.  It all turned out to be okay and Tyson was a healthy little guy at 6 lbs, 15 oz and about 19 inches long.  He had a lot of dark hair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had decided on the name of Tyson a few months before he was born.  I don't remember it being a very difficult decision.  One of us said it one day and we both agreed that we liked it and it stuck.  Amy wanted to go with Daniel for the middle name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tyson has always been a quiet, fun, happy boy.  He's generally a good, obedient boy.  He very rarely will flat out disobey us when we ask him not to do something.  He may whine or cry about it, but usually won't go against what we ask him to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few months before Tyson was born a new couple moved in to our neighborhood two doors down from us - The Wakefields.  They had a little boy named Trevor Daniel who was born in November so he's just a few months older than Ty. Tyson and Trevor have basically been best buddies since birth.  Amy and Jan &amp;amp; Don and I are also very good friends so we have a lot of fun together. Don and I are both counselors in our ward bishopric.  Trevor has a very strong personality and tends to be a little more adventurous and mischievous than Ty so he sometimes gets Ty to do things he shouldn't.  He also used to tease Tyson to the point of tears when they were smaller.  But all in all, they have been pretty good buddies for each other.&lt;br /&gt;Tyson's main best buddy would be his little brother Luke.  They fight quite a bit but mostly it's wrestling, playing together, or Tyson trying to pry into Luke's one-person imaginary games which infuriates poor Luke.  They have shared a room together ever since their little sister Lacy came on the scene a few years ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tyson skipped crawling and stared to walk at about 9 mo.  He also liked to bounce to the music.  He was staying in the same room with us on a trip we took to St. George, we thought he was asleep until the music to a T.V. show came on and he stood up in his crib and started bouncing to the music.  He laughed a real long laugh when he was just weeks old.  He has a great laugh that is contagous to anyone around him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His first word was, "ball" and first phrase was, "Where's the ball?"&lt;br /&gt;A few funny stories when he was 2 yrs.:  We were at the 4th of july parade and Tyson and I ran into a friend of mine.  I said, "Tyson, say hi" and he kicked her in the shins.&lt;br /&gt;I was substituting for his nursery teacher at church and told him that I was going to be his teacher.  He said, "You're not a teacher.  You're my mommy".&lt;br /&gt;His favorite shows as a toddler were Toy Story and Thomas the train.  He had to watch them almost every day.  Today he loves to watch The suite life of Zach and Cody, and Sponge Bob.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he was little he used to say that he wanted 11 brothers and sisters.  He is a great big brother and is always protecting Lacy and Lindsy from each other and Luke.&lt;br /&gt;He has enjoyed learning to play soccer, baseball, basketball, football and just about anything we can talk him into trying.  He took Karate for awhile, but didn't love it.  Going to BYU games with his Dad is one of his favorite things to do.  He wants to be a Scientist when he grows up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-5825309517482445042?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/5825309517482445042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=5825309517482445042' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/5825309517482445042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/5825309517482445042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2008/05/personal-history-8-tyson-daniel-knight.html' title='Personal History #8 -  Tyson Daniel Knight'/><author><name>Katy Knight</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/115970380974055426367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-U_4Aib8pz08/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAD2Y/tdKIjoFNnlc/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/SB3YikAu_2I/AAAAAAAABE4/xqamN9U6wJc/s72-c/Picture+1.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-2089273225367790357</id><published>2008-04-11T21:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-24T16:43:59.993-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='personal history'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Luke'/><title type='text'>Personal History #7 - Luke Vinson Knight</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/SAA32GjqzeI/AAAAAAAAA_A/mKCY8rQVYko/s1600-h/Picture+1.png"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/SAA32GjqzeI/AAAAAAAAA_A/mKCY8rQVYko/s400/Picture+1.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188208173343493602" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luke Vinson Knight was born the morning of January 2, 2002.  His delivery was fairly straight-forward and easy compared to his older brother Tyson. We went into the hospital at about 3 in the morning.  His grandma Jewel came over to stay with Tyson while we were gone.  Luke was born that morning at about 8am.  For Luke we had Doctor Kerry Lawrence who is a woman and who both Amy and I like a lot better than the first doctor we used.  She let me help deliver Luke and cut the cord.  It was fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luke had even more thick dark hair  than Tyson.  He looked like a little monkey and had his first haircut at 3 months old.  He was almost the exact same size as Tyson at 6 lbs, 15 oz.  I think we started in the nickname of Baby Luke the first day he was born and it stuck until he was about 4 or 5.  His brother Tyson started just calling him "Bay-buh" when he was probably around 2 years old and still to this day calls him "bay-buh."  Every once in a while Luke complains about the nickname, but for the most part seems to be ok with it.  Tyson is the only one who still uses it and for some reason it seems to fit.  Other nick names we have had for him include Lukey Duke, Uka-Luka, Dooty (Lacy's version), Super Duke and a few others.&lt;br /&gt;We dressed Luke up as Elvis for his first Halloween and he loved dressing up in costumes ever since. Some of his favorites have been Superman, Batman and Buzz Lightyear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He walked at about 12 months and has always had a surprisingly big vocabulary.  Sometimes after spending time with Grandma Jewel he would use the word "wonderful" a lot.  He is careful at choosing his words and is very polite.  All of his teachers love him.  He is not shy when talking to adults for some reason, but is also respectful so I think this helps.&lt;br /&gt;Luke loves to draw and color.  He uses a lot of colors and is very creative.  I have taken him to a few art museums and the other day he made about 4 or 5 pictures and wanted to hang them around the house so it could look like an art museum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes Luke would rather stay home and play in his own little imaginary world then go and play with his friends.  He's not shy to just say ,"No.  I don't want to play with you today."  When his friends come over sometimes.  They understand I guess because they keep coming back.  He loves to get spooked out and wants to hear scary stories and watch goosebumps on T.V.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luke loves to wear his hair in different styles and likes to dress up for church in a jacket and Tie.  Whenever there is a holiday he wants us to get the decorations out 2 months before the Holiday and helps put them out.  He also loves to hang with his dad and go to BYU games with him.  He has been in gymnastics, karate, T-ball and coachpitch and wll start playing soccer soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-2089273225367790357?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/2089273225367790357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=2089273225367790357' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/2089273225367790357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/2089273225367790357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2008/04/personal-history-7-luke-vinson-knight.html' title='Personal History #7 - Luke Vinson Knight'/><author><name>Katy Knight</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/115970380974055426367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-U_4Aib8pz08/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAD2Y/tdKIjoFNnlc/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/SAA32GjqzeI/AAAAAAAAA_A/mKCY8rQVYko/s72-c/Picture+1.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-1484020440545081313</id><published>2008-04-11T21:14:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-11T21:14:27.820-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunday Dinner Schedule for Larry and Jewel</title><content type='html'>April 13th  Sandy&lt;br /&gt;April 20 Leslie&lt;br /&gt;April 27th Katy&lt;br /&gt;May 4th Joe&lt;br /&gt;May 11th Sam&lt;br /&gt;May 18th Karen&lt;br /&gt;May 25th Dan&lt;br /&gt;June 1st AnnDee&lt;br /&gt;June 8th Katy&lt;br /&gt;June 15th Dan&lt;br /&gt;June 22 Sam&lt;br /&gt;June 29th Sandy&lt;br /&gt;July 6th Joe&lt;br /&gt;July 13th Leslie&lt;br /&gt;July 20th Karen&lt;br /&gt;July 27th AnnDee&lt;br /&gt;Aug 3rd Katy&lt;br /&gt;Aug 10th Dan&lt;br /&gt;Aug 17th Sam&lt;br /&gt;Aug 24th Sandy&lt;br /&gt;Aug 31st Joe&lt;br /&gt;Sept 7th Leslie&lt;br /&gt;Sept 14th Karen&lt;br /&gt;Sept 21 AnnDee&lt;br /&gt;Sept 28 Katy&lt;br /&gt;Oct 5th Dan&lt;br /&gt;Oct 12th Sam&lt;br /&gt;Oct 19th Sandy&lt;br /&gt;Oct 26 Joe&lt;br /&gt;Nov 2nd Leslie&lt;br /&gt;Nov 9 Karen&lt;br /&gt;Nov. 16 AnnDee&lt;br /&gt;Nov. 23rd Katy&lt;br /&gt;Nov. 30th Dan&lt;br /&gt;Dec. 7 Sam&lt;br /&gt;Dec. 14 Sandy&lt;br /&gt;Dec. 21st Joe&lt;br /&gt;Dec. 28th Leslie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-1484020440545081313?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/1484020440545081313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=1484020440545081313' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/1484020440545081313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/1484020440545081313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2008/04/sunday-dinner-schedule-for-larry-and.html' title='Sunday Dinner Schedule for Larry and Jewel'/><author><name>Katy Knight</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/115970380974055426367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-U_4Aib8pz08/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAD2Y/tdKIjoFNnlc/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-3751220605093246910</id><published>2008-02-21T08:19:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-05-24T16:45:32.991-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lenon'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Holly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tod'/><title type='text'>Tolly and Lennon</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.maploco.com/view.php?id=2216143"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.maploco.com/vmap/2216143.png" alt="Visitor Map" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.maploco.com/"&gt;Create your own visitor map!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="visibility: hidden; width: 0px; height: 0px;" src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/CIMP/JnB*PTEyMDM2MTA2OTAzMDImcD1tYXBsb2NvJTJFY29tJmQ9Jm49YmxvZ2dlcg==.jpg" border="0" height="0" width="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-3751220605093246910?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/3751220605093246910/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=3751220605093246910' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/3751220605093246910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/3751220605093246910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2008/02/tolly-and-lennon.html' title='Tolly and Lennon'/><author><name>Tolly &amp;amp; Lennon</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-4907936904939625942</id><published>2008-02-18T06:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-05-24T16:43:44.592-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lacy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='personal history'/><title type='text'>Personal History #6 - Lacy Jessica Knight</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/R7mXf9aCGBI/AAAAAAAAAxw/5uoAcPZDKo8/s1600-h/Lacy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/R7mXf9aCGBI/AAAAAAAAAxw/5uoAcPZDKo8/s400/Lacy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168328622699845650" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Born on Aug. 29th 2004 to Dan and Amy Knight at about 9:00 p.m. in the American Fork Hospital.  She is the 3rd child in the family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lacy came sliding into this world with ease.  Her mother was in no pain with  contractions after getting to the hospital and having an epidural.  The nurse had left the room and said that Lacy would probably not be born for about another hour.  Soon after she left the room Amy felt nauseated and had to throw up.  When she was done she heard a little gurgle coming from under the sheet so she lifted up the sheet and there was Lacy.  “She’s here!! She’s here!!” Amy cried, and Dan ran down the hall to get the nurse and the doctor.  When Dan returned with them, he pointed to the bed and said, “She’s right there”  The doctor gave him a hard time and said, “Where else would she be?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Lawrence and her nurse were a little embarrassed about not being there to deliver Lacy, but went right to work taking care of her and Amy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being born with a congenital heart defect and Down Syndrome kept Lacy in the hospital for 2 weeks.  She was also 3 weeks early.  She spent her days hooked up to a lot of monitors and wires and had to be fed with an NG tube through her nose until she was strong enough to eat on her own.  Her cardiologist visited her in the hospital and decided she could go home on oxygen full time and would have open heart surgery when she was 6 months old or at least 12lbs.  She was only 5lbs and 10oz when she was born.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She had lots of visits from her older brothers Tyson and Luke while she was in the hospital and many other loved ones after she got home.  When she was in the hospital they sometimes put her in an incubator crib to help get her temperature up.  One time when Luke was visiting he asked, “Is that her cage”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lacy was a very mellow baby and hardly ever cried or made a noise.  She is extra soft and floppy and felt as if she were a little baby doll.  She had to be woken up sometimes to get her to eat and we had to double her calories to help her grow.  She was so sweet and won the hearts of many people.  She started receiving services from the community right after she was born.  Up with Downs, a support group for parents and families with children with Down Syndrome came to our house to see us right away.  They brought information and encouragement to us and showed us pictures and stories of children born with Down Syndrome in our area.  They also told us about different activities and social gatherings  they sponsored.  Also people from Kids on the Move, an early intervention program came to our house to meet Lacy and teach us how we can help her move along in her development.  She had 3 different therapists from the program come and help her once a month for the first three years of her life.  We attended play groups once a week at their facility in Orem with other cute kids Lacy’s age who had all kinds of special needs.  Lacy loved going and being around the other kids.  We had to make sure that she didn’t pull hair when she was 2-3.  She loved to do this to the other kids and moms in the group.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lacy started walking when she was 2yrs and a few months.  Her Aunt Karen taught her how to say “Moo” like a cow when she was about 1 1-2 yrs.  When she first started to crawl she did what looked like an army crawl on her tummy and before that she rolled to get around.  She has a great laugh and knows some sign language and loves everyone.  She goes to Special Needs pre-school and loves it.  Lacy makes her dad’s day everyday.  She is usually sitting at the kitchen bar when he gets home and totally freaks out with excitement when she hears the garage door go up.  She yells, “Dad, Dad, Daddy” until he gets in the house.  She loves to torture her little sister Lindsy and wrestle with her brothers.  She loves music and loves to dance around the house.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-4907936904939625942?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/4907936904939625942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=4907936904939625942' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/4907936904939625942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/4907936904939625942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2008/02/personal-history-6-lacy-jessica-knight.html' title='Personal History #6 - Lacy Jessica Knight'/><author><name>Katy Knight</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/115970380974055426367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-U_4Aib8pz08/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAD2Y/tdKIjoFNnlc/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/R7mXf9aCGBI/AAAAAAAAAxw/5uoAcPZDKo8/s72-c/Lacy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-1962705288628565112</id><published>2008-02-02T20:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-05-24T16:43:30.839-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='personal history'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lindsy'/><title type='text'>Personal History #5 - Lindsy Paige Knight</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/R6U_rm30crI/AAAAAAAAAvA/-u7lkNLqAnE/s1600-h/Lindsy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/R6U_rm30crI/AAAAAAAAAvA/-u7lkNLqAnE/s400/Lindsy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162602566251737778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Born April 27th 2006 to Dan and Amy Knight in the American Fork Hospital at about 3:00 p.m.   She is the 4th child in the family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Linsdy was born with red hair like her sister Lacy.  She was almost named Tess.  Her parents didn’t decide on her name or how to spell it until they had to fill out papers in the hospital just before taking her home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was a good baby and started to smile earlier then normal.  When she was just 5 months old she went on her first plane ride.  Her mom and Dad took her to Boston with them.  Her friend Ryan Wakefield also got to go with his parents.  They paled around together through the streets of Boston, to Paul Reveer’s house, through the Sleepy Hollow cemetery, and layed next to Louisa May Alcott’s grave for a picture.  Every where they went people had to look at she and Ryan and say how cute and wonderful they were.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lindsy loves to play with her brothers and sister and doesn’t want to go to bed if they aren’t going to bed. She loves shoes and has to wear them all the time.  She is the best eater of the family and would eat cookies all day if she could.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She also gets real excited when her dad comes home from work at night.  On Sunday at church she sometimes escapes from her mother to go sit on her Dad’s lap while he is sitting on the stand with the Bishop.  She likes to go to nursery now and hasn’t bitten anyone yet.  She gives good hugs and kisses and loves her Grandparents dog.  He is a nice dog and let’s her lay on him and pull his tail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When she doesn’t get a big enough portion of food or is being chased by Luke with a rubber mouse or spider or is getting pushed down by Lacey , she gets mad and cries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When she is dancing with her mom or playing motor cycle with her dad or playing funny faces with Tyson or Luke she laughs.  She loves to be read to and tear toilet paper off the roll and tear it apart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now Lindsy gives crusty looks to people when she first sees them, but warms up after a few minutes.  She wants to take a bath everyday after breakfast and has learned some sign language from watching “Signing Time” almost every day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-1962705288628565112?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/1962705288628565112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=1962705288628565112' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/1962705288628565112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/1962705288628565112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2008/02/personal-history-5-lindsy-paige-knight.html' title='Personal History #5 - Lindsy Paige Knight'/><author><name>Katy Knight</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/115970380974055426367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-U_4Aib8pz08/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAD2Y/tdKIjoFNnlc/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/R6U_rm30crI/AAAAAAAAAvA/-u7lkNLqAnE/s72-c/Lindsy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-770634932843088867</id><published>2008-01-20T07:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-05-24T16:43:12.691-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Katy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='personal history'/><title type='text'>Personal History #4 - Kathryn Birgithe Knight</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/R5Nofu-9RXI/AAAAAAAAAtg/34JCjhjZ2Po/s1600-h/KTbaby.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/R5Nofu-9RXI/AAAAAAAAAtg/34JCjhjZ2Po/s400/KTbaby.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157580892666676594" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I was born in Provo, UT as the 8th of 9 children to Larry and Jewel Knight. I had a lot of red hair as a baby and I was really cute – I still am actually. We lived in a house on Apple Avenue, which is at the top of a really steep hill, and at the bottom of the hill is Kiwanis Park. I don’t remember too much about that house. I do remember the game carpet and I remember fighting with my mom cause I thought I was too old for naps and so she conceded and let me simply have a quiet time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember playing with Kathryn Hilliam, Carrie Warner and Jenny Oaks – I think they all lived on Locust Lane. I also remember the Hatch boys that lived on Old Willow – they were mean and one time they convinced me to eat dirt. Across the street to the north was an old man named Rhiney Liechty and he owned some horses. I remember that I loved to visit Rhiney and see his horses. When I was older and lived on Oak Lane, I would always take my nieces and nephews on a walk to see the horses on Old Willow Lane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember going to Peter Pan Preschool with Miss Wendy. It was held in a home at the bottom of Apple Avenue. I don’t remember too much about preschool other than I met a lot of the kids I would end up going through school with and we eventually graduated together. Peter Van and Jon-Clair Lindsey. Their dad died after first grade and I thought that was so sad. BJ Chandler – I thought he was cute and was amazed at how tall he was. Melissa Carter, Carrie Warner, Lisa Zumbrennen, Nicole Francis, Marianne Densley, Courtney Clark and others that I’m forgetting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn’t long after I was born that my little sister was born – about 16 months. We did a lot together. Because there was a seven-year gap between me and my older brother, Dan, my parents thought they’d better have another kid to keep me company. I’m glad they did otherwise I’d be like Liz Collins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember playing with Macy and Molly at the mortuary and I thought it was so strange how they lived on top of a place where dead bodies were kept. I always wanted to be like Macy – I thought she was so cool. I remember Memorial Day and the gathering at the PG cemetery and breakfast, races, and softball games later at the Lindon Park.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was four our family moved to Livermore, CA because my dad worked at the Lawrence Livermore Lab doing top secret work or something. I liked living there and I remember going to Sam and Dan’s baseball games. I remember that I had a friend named Arthur and I named a teddy bear after him. It was the kind of teddy bear you can wind up in the back and it plays music. It was in Livermore, CA that Dod Richen came to be. I was (and still am to some degree) a tomboy. I thought my older brothers were so cool and I wanted to be like them in every way so one day I put on a San Francisco Giants jersey and a baseball hat and announced to my family that my name was Dod Richen and my number was 14. I played for the Giants. I guess it was pretty funny because everyone remembers it and my family still calls me Dod on occasion.&lt;br /&gt;I have a few other memories of Livermore. I remember once Sandy threw up at the dinner table. I remember playing with these rings that came off the bottom of our kitchen chairs and one got stuck on my finger and my mom couldn’t get it off. And this seems extreme but I think the firemen came to cut it off and rescue me. I’ll have to ask my mom if that really happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We moved back to Provo into the house on Oak Lane before I started kindergarten. Ann Dee and I shared the room in the southwest corner next to my parents. It was the cloud room and I remember staring at those clouds trying to discover recognizable images in them. I’m not sure when my neat freak/OCD kicked in but I remember cleaning that room and organizing it and then loving the feeling after. I love to know that all of my things have a place and that they are in their place. I would also on occasion organize our game closet and produce a list of all of the game pieces we were missing. That closet was located in the sewing room with pseudo mirrors in the wallpaper.  I thought it was cool that in that house you could complete a full circle from the sewing room to the hall to the kitchen to the laundry room. I think I ran around that circle lots. You could also complete a full circle from the front hall to the orange carpeted living room and dining room to the kitchen with swinging chairs and a lazy Susan and back to the front hall. I remember when we first moved in I found a Star Wars figurine in the bushes in the front. I think it was Chuey. I remember thinking it was cool and I liked to play with him but I always felt a bit guilty because I knew he didn’t really belong to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember learning to ride a bike. No one held the back of the bike and then let me go. I remember Dan standing on top of Christine (our white Station Wagon) who was parked in the center of our driveway and I would try to ride this little bike without stopping to regain my balance. Dan would count how many times I could make it around the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember that a girl who was two years older than me lived across the street named Laura Beal. She was kinda weird and she would always have this dumb little dog with her named Soopy. This was not her dog, it was the Campbell’s dog and I was terrified of dogs and I still am actually. I hated Soopy and he would always bark at me. Laura thought it was funny and so she would say, “Sick her” all the time and I really thought that Soopy was going to sick me. Whenever we played with Laura, I’d make Ann Dee go over there first and then call me at 377-9083 and let me know if Soopy was there or not. Then I’d go over if it was safe. My mom used to make Ann Dee and I take some meat cutting to Susan Ream’s dog. She lived on Briar and that was seriously the scariest thing in the world to me because although she never let her dogs near us they would come to the door and bark when we rang the doorbell and they were BIG dogs. I HATED HATED HATED doing that but my mom was all about facing your fears.&lt;br /&gt;Either that or she wanted to get rid of that extra meat and her two little babies for a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We used to play with Olympics at the bar and the judge would sit at the bar and watch the performances in the large, spacious family room and then give a score to the participants. I was always the judge because I never did figure our how to do a cartwheel. I also remember playing with the intercoms. We’d all go to separate rooms and we could talk to each other through the walls. It was so cool. I liked to use the intercoms to try and wake up Sam and Dan in the mornings but sometimes their volume was down so it didn’t always work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-770634932843088867?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/770634932843088867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=770634932843088867' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/770634932843088867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/770634932843088867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2008/01/personal-history-4-kathryn-birgithe.html' title='Personal History #4 - Kathryn Birgithe Knight'/><author><name>Katy Knight</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/115970380974055426367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-U_4Aib8pz08/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAD2Y/tdKIjoFNnlc/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/R5Nofu-9RXI/AAAAAAAAAtg/34JCjhjZ2Po/s72-c/KTbaby.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-8092583807003110156</id><published>2008-01-13T20:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-05-24T16:42:55.535-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='personal history'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ann Dee'/><title type='text'>Personal History #3 - Ann Dee Knight Ellis</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/R4LECu-9QrI/AAAAAAAAAoU/quSHAEfW24k/s1600-h/AnnDee+baby.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/R4LECu-9QrI/AAAAAAAAAoU/quSHAEfW24k/s320/AnnDee+baby.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5152896474916143794" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first thing I remember is blue shag carpet. In the Apple Avenue house. I also remember going to Stewart Falls with Dad but the weird thing is I don’t know if my memories are just made up from the pictures. Like the one where me and Katy are playing in the water and I’m wearing a blue shirt with a white collar and Dad’s skinny in a plaid shirt and Katy’s laughing. Or maybe she isn’t. We used to hike up there or hike around. Mom told me once that when we lived in the Canyon Meadows cabin she’d be home with just me and Katy and she’d take us to Vivian Park and take us on walks by the Heber Creeper railroad. Everyone else was down in Provo. I wonder if Mom even had a car. She must have. I don’t remember much about the cabin but I do remember Julio who had a big wheel and lived at the beginning of the road up to the meadows. I think he was mean but maybe he wasn’t. I also remember the time the bat got stuck in the cabin and we all hid under the bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thing, Old Willow. The little lane by our house with the big holes and the apricots and we could walk down the road to the old Apple Avenue house and to see Rhiny’s horses and feed them apples. When Karen would come over with Holly and Tommy, we’d go on a walk and I’d always think about the OHVs (the Oak Hills Vandals) because I’d heard that in the trees by Old Willow, the OHVs would hang out and decide who they would steal from. There were bike trails all over through those trees and I knew only OHVs would go off jumps like that. One time I was walking down Old Willow to get my friend’s house and I stole a lot of apricots and put them in my bag. I ate some too even though they weren’t washed and there might have been worms in there. By the time I got to the end of the lane I thought maybe I shouldn’t have stolen those apricots but they were all over the road but I did steal them and maybe I was as bad as the OHVs and I should be one of them. One time they stole the purses out of all the Relief Society ladies cars when they were at our house for a progressive dinner. Mom was mad because she made Sam and Dan cut a path through the bushes so the ladies wouldn’t trip when they were going over the Van Wagonens for dinner and she bought a new wreath and she was cooking for days but then it was all ruined because of the OHVs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That reminds me, our house on Oak Lane was right by a hill and there were no other houses around us and that’s why the tarantulas would come in our backyard and one time a huge boulder fell down into our backyard one day. I think someone is going to say that was there when we moved there but I don’t ‘think so. I just asked Dad and Mom and Leslie if it fell and Dad said it did and they said it could have killed someone and it could have. I could have died in our backyard or got bit by tarantula. Anyway, that was the best hill because we went sledding down it and we hiked up it to get to friends who lived in upper oak hills and we made a hide out at Puppy Dog Rock. I think Joe proposed to Donielle there which was probably romantic for them but was weird because it was Puppy Dog Rock, not love Dog Rock. One time Donielle took me for a root beer float. She got a Tab float.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Katy and I shared the blue cloud room so she put a piece of tape across the middle of the room. This worked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also remember Christmas in Livermore. Except I don’t. Was Livermore yellow? And the backyard went into a playground. I used to love to tell people that I lived in California even though I don’t remember it except for when we went on Bart and we saw Little Orphan Annie and I danced in the aisles. Or was it Nutcracker? I actually think that’s one of those stories that people have told me but I don’t remember it. I do remember the Nut Tree and the train and we went there every time we drove to California. And the fairyland and you had to put your key into the slot to hear the fairytales. I liked the big Blue whale one and I saw recently pictures of the place and it doesn’t look how I remember it. I remember the shiny and big and fancy. It’s not so shiny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember when Karen would babysit us and Holly had a Rainbow Brite nightgown with purple trim and one time we made a play up in the quad and it had a real curtain with string and a blanket and we made everyone come watch. I liked popsicles and I didn’t like people combing my hair. Especially Mom because she would just yank and yank at my hair and it HURT. There would be big huge wads of snarls in my hair, chunks, and I did not want anyone touching them. Leave them alone. Sometimes I’d have Karen or Donielle French braid my hair and then I’d keep it in for at least a week. Except they yanked my hair too. When Karen did it I’d yell ouch and start crying and she’d say, Oh quit being a big baby. When Donielle did it I didn’t dare yell so I’d just quietly cry and afterwards she’d notice that I was crying and she’d say, Why didn’t you say something? And I’d say, I don’t know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got to be a bridesmaid at Donielle and Joe’s wedding and we got to go to California and wear big pink dresses and hold bouquets and she had a pool at her house. Plus we went to the beach. Did Joe work at the credit union? I remember going to the credit union. The big white one by the stadium and I always got a sucker when we went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm, this is not in order and not before I was five? Was hanging out in the Eyring Science Center and eating sandwiches out of the machine and playing the violin for Dad’s classes so he could show some vibration thing and looking out the window and crawling on the desk and that big huge picture of Dad and Karen holding hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One time I took violin lessons. Katy was taking from Mrs. Primrose but she wasn’t taking new students so I had to take from Mrs. Grover. I hated group lessons and bowing. I liked playing jingle bells and the fun night at Suzuki camp. I used to lie about practicing. We were supposed to do at least a half hour a day. If Mom was there, she’d sit with us and make us practice every day. She’s say, “again” and “again” over and over and over, trill after trill after trill. Then, if she couldn’t’ sit with us, she’d say, “I’ll set the timer” and she’d take off to the grocery store or something but that NEVER worked. We’d start practicing but then when she left, we’d watch TV. I say we but maybe it was just me. Then, when I heard the garage door open, I’d run and start playing again. I also stole oreos and scraped out the middle and made a huge ball and kept it in my pocket and lick it whenever I wanted but Mom would get mad if she saw the empty chocolate cookies in the garbage so I’d hide those at the bottom of the garbage can. I also hid my pills but that’s later and another story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Pre-school I mostly remember going to Mom’s school and running up the ramp. There were no ramps or even stairs at my elementary school. And I liked being in kindergarten and pre-school at the same time. I also liked Dad picking me up and sitting in the booth at the Wilkinson center except the booths were downstairs and we ate in the upstairs because that was the faculty lounge and that’s where we got to eat all the deviled eggs we wanted and I wanted a lot. I sometimes went with Dad to BYU to get doughnuts in the morning. I think I’m running out of steam but I like remembering when I was little because I had a good little time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-8092583807003110156?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/8092583807003110156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=8092583807003110156' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/8092583807003110156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/8092583807003110156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2008/01/personal-history-3-ann-dee-knight-ellis_13.html' title='Personal History #3 - Ann Dee Knight Ellis'/><author><name>Katy Knight</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/115970380974055426367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-U_4Aib8pz08/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAD2Y/tdKIjoFNnlc/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/R4LECu-9QrI/AAAAAAAAAoU/quSHAEfW24k/s72-c/AnnDee+baby.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-674805999599851752</id><published>2008-01-07T16:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-05-24T16:42:06.909-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='personal history'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cameron'/><title type='text'>Personal History #2 - Cameron Baldwin Ellis</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/R4LElO-9QsI/AAAAAAAAAoc/we8JiGavb4U/s1600-h/Cameron.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/R4LElO-9QsI/AAAAAAAAAoc/we8JiGavb4U/s320/Cameron.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5152897067621630658" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me as an infant? I was born with a little red ball cap on crooked. And yes, it pained my mother. The doctors had a hard time getting me outta there, so they had to use some device that applies suction… to my head. My mom didn't get to hold me until well after my vital signs were okayed, and she tells me that was so horrible not knowing if I was okay and assuming the worst. But I was huge and healthy but then I got sick and lost weight and seemed a sickly little guy. I was smallest in any group. I defended myself by belittling the bigger boys, hoping they would be on my team or else leave me alone. I was tiny and fast. And strong. I knew I was strong the day my mom called and called for me to come in for lunch and had to come look for me. I was power-sliding around the corner astride my blue and black Big Wheel. Red right-hand brake. I'm all the way down the street and now my mom is standing there waiting for me and I say, "You wanna ride?" She stands on the back of the Big Wheel (the seat is scooted all the way up since my legs are so short, so there's plenty of room for my mom to stand.) I start cranking my little tough legs as hard as I can, and we start cruising. I look behind me to see if she's pushing, but Mom isn't pushing! It's me. I am a big boy. That's probably the same day I got potty trained, learned how to tie my shoes, write my name and say my prayers.&lt;br /&gt;Our backyard was a quarter acre of grass, swing set and garden. I got to stain the fence when I was four. I wore my mom's gloves, which protected my arms from stain up to the elbow. My little fat belly got crescent sunburned where it peeked out. We also pulled weeds and thinned out the strawberries every Saturday. I would chase the neighbor girls around my yard until they would throw plant fertilizer in my eyes. Sometimes I would pull my diaper down and make a mess on the landing. I would fake a nap, and when my mom went outside to tan, I would go watch Sesame Street on our 10" black-and-white TV. Then I figured out that it was scripted and suddenly Grover wasn't so cool. But the Muppet Show was still cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Santa brought me a Luke Skywalker action figure with the light saber in his arm that extends for combat. I always thought that is what was being repaired at the end of Empire Strikes Back. I also was confused with the clear reference to baseball in the title. Empire and Umpire sound the same to a four-year-old. But Santa was very good to me and my sisters. We fought. I won. Then I lost. Now I can't really remember how it was to fight, but then I think about being the only boy in the house, and it all comes back.  I liked being a Sunbeam, and I would shout BEAM during the Sunbeam song in Primary. Then I would go home and throw our Alvin and the Chipmunks Christmas Album against the wall and watch it shatter. But I just wanted to play Frisbee, but we couldn't go out to play. But splintered vinyl is quite the party for one, too.&lt;br /&gt;I loved to shovel snow and ride around in my dad's red Camaro. On Sunday mornings my dad would make pancakes. We always had leftovers, which we threw in the fridge. Across the street lived Sunny, a black lab who we knew mainly by the super-sniffing and dust clouds with his snout sticking out through the two inch gap under the garage door. We got to throw him the cold pancakes and watch his tongue devour them into his sharp teeth. He never pooped on our lawn. Neither did I.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have all these awesome photos of me, my dad, my mom, and two sisters at Lagoon in black-and-white western gear, and Halloween, and Easter, and ward parties, and parades, and birthdays. Every holiday was a big deal, and man how that didn't stick with me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-674805999599851752?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/674805999599851752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=674805999599851752' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/674805999599851752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/674805999599851752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2008/01/personal-history-2-cameron-ellis.html' title='Personal History #2 - Cameron Baldwin Ellis'/><author><name>Katy Knight</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/115970380974055426367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-U_4Aib8pz08/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAD2Y/tdKIjoFNnlc/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/R4LElO-9QsI/AAAAAAAAAoc/we8JiGavb4U/s72-c/Cameron.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-299685635902555280</id><published>2008-01-07T12:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-05-24T16:46:23.324-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family get-togethers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='exercise'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='triathalon'/><title type='text'>Pre 1/2 triathlon</title><content type='html'>Dear Family,&lt;br /&gt;It's official (according to me). At the family vacation in Park City we will be having not just a 5K but a triathlon. This means we will be swimming 800m, biking 10 (or more) miles, and running a 5K (If I'm the only one who actually does this, I will be very sad). In anticipation of this event, we will be having a pre-1/2 triathlon in March. It will begin at the house in American Fork. We will run 1.5 miles, bike five miles and then swim 400m. I'm already working on the route. If you or anyone you know in this family would like to participate, please let me know. I am trying to get sponsors and I already have Power Gel onboard. I'm very serious about this. NO KIDDING. The end.&lt;br /&gt;Ann Dee&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-299685635902555280?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/299685635902555280/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=299685635902555280' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/299685635902555280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/299685635902555280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2008/01/pre-12-triathlon.html' title='Pre 1/2 triathlon'/><author><name>Ann Dee</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-3968862934940515087</id><published>2008-01-07T11:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-07T11:37:48.938-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Important Mailing Instructions before Mailing Tommy</title><content type='html'>The Church's Mail Dept says that we now can only mail a one-sided, single page letter to missionaries, via the POUCH system.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What we do is to write on one side of a single page to the missionary, fold the paper in thirds, so that the long side of the folded paper is 8 1/2 ". Tape the 8 1/2" side and DON'T TAPE THE SHORT SIDES OF THE FOLDED PAPER. Put the 1st class postage on it and Mail Away...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here again is Tommy's POUCH mailing address:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Elder Thomas Knight Lowell&lt;br /&gt;Guatemala, Guatemala City North Mission&lt;br /&gt;POUCH, P.O. Box 30150&lt;br /&gt;Salt Lake City, UT 84130-0150&lt;br /&gt;USA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, the Church's Mail Dept gave me a one time exemption to the above rule, when I mailed your letters written at our family Christmas Party. I just taped your letters to a white 8 1/2" x 11 " sheet of paper and mailed them. For those of you that wrote on more than one page, I had to send the separate pages as separate letters (i.e. Letter 1 of 2).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our family thanks you so much for remembering Tommy. Happy Mailing to you all...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ron&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-3968862934940515087?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/3968862934940515087/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=3968862934940515087' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/3968862934940515087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/3968862934940515087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2008/01/important-mailing-instructions-before.html' title='Important Mailing Instructions before Mailing Tommy'/><author><name>Ron</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08392664646925891635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_8tWE9vGZw4k/R1hr3zJndFI/AAAAAAAAAAM/20NLml8CqwU/S220/7+26+07+Dad+%2B+Kristi%2B+Kari+Family+Night+Minature+Golfing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-5292385735078498202</id><published>2008-01-01T20:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-05-24T16:42:26.209-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='personal history'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Van'/><title type='text'>Personal History #1 - Van Alexander Ellis</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/R3sN7u-9QoI/AAAAAAAAAn8/ZpROKFSIaOY/s1600-h/Van.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/R3sN7u-9QoI/AAAAAAAAAn8/ZpROKFSIaOY/s400/Van.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5150725918703829634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My name is Van and I’m almost one. Today my aunt told my mom that I look like a girl because I have tight blonde curls. My mom disagreed. Although I have curly hair and I am really really cute, I don’t look like a girl. The end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Except there’s a few more things. I was born on December 28th, 2006. I was due on December 22nd. My mom was very large and had to waddle around the last week before I was born. I was a very kicky baby and made sure she didn’t sleep. When it was finally time for me to be born, my mom and dad went into the hospital at 7:00 am and they put my mom on pitocin. Four hours later, after punching my dad only once and yelling things, she got an epidural. My dad had to go into the bathroom after that because he needed to cry and he didn’t want my mom to see. I was born at 7:18 pm and I was 7 lbs even and was 18 inches long. I was actually very good looking from the beginning. Both my mom and my dad had decided that if I wasn’t cute it would be okay. Some babies are sort of squished faced in the beginning but then they grow into their looks. Fortunately, I looked handsome (really—he did) from the beginning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first week I was home, my grandparents Larry and Jewel came to stay. Every morning my grandpa Larry would come and take me from my mom and sing so that she could sleep. He sang “Go to Sleep Little Baby” and “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.” Grandma Jewel made breakfast and helped my mom change me and keep things going. She also told my mom that it was okay if I cried a lot—it was good exercise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I liked the song “As I Have Loved You” and one time my aunt Katy babysat me while my parents went to church and she sang to me and held me. And one time, when mom and dad were pulling weeds to get the outside ready for my baby blessing, my cousin Holly who was pregnant with my first cousin once removed cousin who is now born and who is named Lennon, well, Holly played with me in the front room of the twin home at 649 N 1280 E where we lived. She took a lot of pictures of me and I was on my belly laughing. My baby blessing was beautiful. My dad blessed me and he wrote some of it down but I don’t have it here. But then after there was a HUGE party and lots of food and my whole family was there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I rolled over when I was about eight weeks old. We were over at Grandma Jewel’s house and all my aunts were making me lay on my belly. I didn’t like this and would grunt and get really really mad. Finally, I just rolled over to prove to them that they weren’t the boss of me. They all started screaming and that was weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My grandpa Mark made me a paper mobile that would spin with the music. I loved looking at it. My mom set it up in the front room and I’d lay under it and laugh. Eventually, when I learned to stand up and she’d put it over the crib, I tore it down. It’s not because I didn’t like it. It’s because I like to tear all things down. I also like to empty folded laundry out of baskets, pull CDs off of CD stands, stand on top of stereos, stick my hand in fire places, and go head first off the Love Sac.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve always been a very alert and observant baby and when I started crawling, I liked to get into everything. I mostly like adult things like screwdrivers and knives and magnets and keys and cell phones and laptops. I don’t mess with toys all that much. My favorite favorite book is Peek a Moo by Marie Torres Cimarusti. I also love Goodnight Moon but it doesn’t make me tired, I just like to turn the pages really really fast. When I was little my mom took me on walks every day and I would look around and sit quietly. Now I prefer to crawl around and not be in the bjorn because it’s boring. I also used to love going in the shopping cart and look around but now I would rather crawl up the shelves. I don’t like to just sit there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last summer we went swimming. At Aunt Holly’s pool I kicked my legs like a fish and swam all over. And I love Lehi Legacy Center pool because they have swings for babies. I think I started liking swimming because my dad gives me baths every night and he always makes the water into a whirlpool and splashes me. At first I hated it (Aunt Paulette and Sam and the girls came over the first day I got home from the hospital to show my mom how to give me a bath and I screamed and screamed because I hated the cold) but now it’s my favorite thing to do. When I go in the bathroom and see the tub I start bouncing up and down and singing. My dad even lets the water get in my eyes but I don’t care. I did figure out how to take the handles off the water so he had to take them off permanently so that I wouldn’t turn the water on really hot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also eat a lot. I liked peaches but then I got sick of them so I just started throwing them. Then I liked rice cereal or mixed cereal but then that got boring. So then I just started eating whatever everyone else was eating. Even curry or guacamole or pizza or sweet potato fries or salsa or my grandpa’s breakfast stir fry that my mom thinks is too spicy but I like it. Lately I’m into steak burritos. I also LOVE YoBaby yogurt but my mom thinks it’s expensive. And I’m into throwing pretzels and Ritz crackers at people. I go to bed every night at seven and I try to sleep all night. When I wake up, I stand in my crib and yell. Then I eat and then I lay on my mom and rest. Then I get up even if she doesn’t want me to get up and I crawl all over the bed and pull myself up with the headboard. Sometimes, if Mom’s lucky, I’ll sit in the dark and play with her cell phone and let her sleep a little.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love to play peek a boo. I love to spit. And I can crawl up ANYTHING. I’m like my dad that way. I can crawl up the marble fireplace, I can crawl up the ladder, I can crawl up and get on the chairs, I can climb up and down the stairs (although one time I fell down the stairs because I would go head first to see what was going on and one time my mom was sitting right there and she thought I was fine but then I went for a shoe that was sitting on a stair and I fell and she freaked out and was crying and I was crying but not as long as she was and I was like, why did you leave a shoe there if you didn’t want me to dive for it? So then she and my dad went and bought a fence that I can actually go under and I try to when they aren’t looking but it’s okay because I know how to down now).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m a good boy and I watch my mom do Yoga and once my mom tried to make me do yoga and I laughed but then I didn’t want to do it so I didn’t. I only like bananas if I can hold the whole banana and I love kids. I hang out with the Jackson kids on Tuesdays when my mom teaches writing and it’s really fun except when Louisa grabs me and shakes me. On Thursdays I hang out with my grandma and grandpa Larry. Grandma plays funny games with me and grandpa does up up in the sky with me. This is funny and I laugh but only if I feel like it.&lt;br /&gt;In a few days it’s my birthday and I’m not sure how it’s going to be because Christmas is coming and I don’t want left over presents. Also, I have to say, I used to be really calm and just sit there in church. Now I crawl all over and poke kids and eat cookies and spill water and put my fingers in outlets and slime my mom’s dresses. I’m a very nice boy with blond hair and I used to be a chubby bubby but now I’m sort of skinny because I never ever stop. Ever. Next year I hope to get a good job and hopefully start a 401K. I’ll also be going into nursery and I hope to start running. I think that’s all. Oh, and I love to dance.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-5292385735078498202?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/5292385735078498202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=5292385735078498202' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/5292385735078498202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/5292385735078498202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2008/01/van-alexander-ellis.html' title='Personal History #1 - Van Alexander Ellis'/><author><name>Katy Knight</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/115970380974055426367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-U_4Aib8pz08/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAD2Y/tdKIjoFNnlc/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/R3sN7u-9QoI/AAAAAAAAAn8/ZpROKFSIaOY/s72-c/Van.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-1165749866094064943</id><published>2008-01-01T20:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-05-24T16:46:53.289-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='personal history'/><title type='text'>Personal Histories</title><content type='html'>I know I emailed everyone a pdf of the personal histories all complied into one but I realize that it might be easier to read them one at a time. I'm going to post one personal history a week so you can read them all at an easy pace and make comments. I think this will be fun - I'm going to start at the end of the document and work forward. So Van will be first.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-1165749866094064943?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/1165749866094064943/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=1165749866094064943' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/1165749866094064943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/1165749866094064943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2008/01/personal-histories.html' title='Personal Histories'/><author><name>Katy Knight</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/115970380974055426367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-U_4Aib8pz08/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAD2Y/tdKIjoFNnlc/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-6963893655190521314</id><published>2007-12-12T07:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-12T07:45:12.860-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Reminder</title><content type='html'>Sorry if I am getting annoying BUT I really need to have your personal histories and money by this MONDAY, December 17th. So far I have Holly's and Ron's. I read both of them this morning and was so impressed. They were really good and it is amazing how much information you can get in two pages. Remember we are not buying gifts for mom and dad so instead of money, we are investing time and effort which I am now very convinced will be much more meaningful. Please don't forget - email me all personal histories at katy_knight@mac.com. Remember that EVERYONE is to write a personal history, including in-laws and kids and missionaries. Also, please get me your digital photos for the family calendar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Activities at the party:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Quilt tying - Leslie&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Gift wrapping for the family - Sandy&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Missionary writing - Ann Dee&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Cookie decorating - Karen&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Karaoke &amp;amp; Carols - Dan&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This information is from Doug about the family we will be helping:&lt;br /&gt;Mom: Odessa    Age: 35. Pants Sz: 26 or 3X. Dress Sz: 3X pr 4X. Coat: 11 Wmn&lt;br /&gt;Gndm: Linda       Age: 58. Pants Sz: 2X. Dress Sz: 3X or 4X. Coat Size: ?&lt;br /&gt;Son: Metec Omot       Age: 10  34 W 32 L (I don't understand this)&lt;br /&gt;Son: Amod              Age: 5. Size 5T&lt;br /&gt;Nephew: Deon          Age: 16      Size 16-18&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-6963893655190521314?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/6963893655190521314/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=6963893655190521314' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/6963893655190521314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/6963893655190521314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2007/12/reminder.html' title='Reminder'/><author><name>Katy Knight</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/115970380974055426367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-U_4Aib8pz08/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAD2Y/tdKIjoFNnlc/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-8646284129117729727</id><published>2007-12-11T15:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-11T15:49:02.948-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas Party - executive decision</title><content type='html'>Sam and I have made an executive decision. The party will be at 1:00 PM - due to the BYU football game. Duh - what were we thinking. At this point I am assuming that the party will be at the same location unless I hear from Ron.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-8646284129117729727?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/8646284129117729727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=8646284129117729727' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/8646284129117729727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/8646284129117729727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2007/12/christmas-party-executive-decision.html' title='Christmas Party - executive decision'/><author><name>Katy Knight</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/115970380974055426367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-U_4Aib8pz08/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAD2Y/tdKIjoFNnlc/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-3153087407374329424</id><published>2007-12-09T10:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-12T07:46:12.435-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas Party Updates</title><content type='html'>The date and time and location are all set. Here they are:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Date = Saturday, December 22, 2007&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Time = 1:00 PM&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Location = church in Ron and Karen's neighborhood (not the church where Tommy's farewell was - we don't want the fire alarm to go off)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;Here is the address and directions to their church:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;102 North 2400 West in Provo&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Basically, you take the Center Street (Utah Lake) exit off of I-15 and travel west on Center towards Utah Lake. You turn right (north) on 2400 West and there you are (the chapel is on 102 North).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;Doug and Sandy have a family for us to sponsor. They will be getting more information about what they will need. My plan is to buy all the gifts that morning and then one of the activities at the party will be wrapping them. The next day, Sunday, December 23 - we will be sure that they are delivered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember that your personal histories (email) and money (hand delivered or mail) are due to me by Monday, December 17th. I also need your photos for the family calendar.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-3153087407374329424?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/3153087407374329424/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=3153087407374329424' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/3153087407374329424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/3153087407374329424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2007/12/christmas-party-updates.html' title='Christmas Party Updates'/><author><name>Katy Knight</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/115970380974055426367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-U_4Aib8pz08/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAD2Y/tdKIjoFNnlc/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-5052437681113995985</id><published>2007-12-02T07:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-02T07:51:30.538-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I love snow and here is why ...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/R1LUfCHo2wI/AAAAAAAAAjM/kZT8EVT_xyE/s1600-R/Timp_Snow.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/R1LUfCHo2wI/AAAAAAAAAjM/G5vExn3c23Y/s400/Timp_Snow.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5139403754393099010" 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/5894986508243658390-5052437681113995985?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/5052437681113995985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=5052437681113995985' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/5052437681113995985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/5052437681113995985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2007/12/i-love-snow-and-here-is-why.html' title='I love snow and here is why ...'/><author><name>Katy Knight</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/115970380974055426367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-U_4Aib8pz08/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAD2Y/tdKIjoFNnlc/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/R1LUfCHo2wI/AAAAAAAAAjM/G5vExn3c23Y/s72-c/Timp_Snow.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-5560204813188838750</id><published>2007-11-30T14:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-30T15:09:25.130-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas Party Revisited</title><content type='html'>After Monday, everyone should have had a visit from Mom and Dad for FHE. The deadline to get all materials to Katy is Monday, December 17th. The items I need include:&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Money collected from the jars (to replace gifts for each other) - might want to mail to me the week before. This might actually go to Sandy - we'll let you know.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Approximately two pages (digital please) of EVERYONE's personal history - "the first five years" - email to Katy at this address: katy_knight@mac.com&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Digital images for the family calendar - email to Katy at the same address or send a CD or a jump drive&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div&gt;We will have the party at either Leslie's house or her church. I think we will start early - 4:30 or 5:00 PM on Saturday, December 22nd.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here are the assignments at this point:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Food - Sam and Paulette (Larry will pay)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sub for Santa Family or humanitarian project ? - Sandy &amp;amp; Leslie&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sugar cookies/gingerbread men - Karen&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Karaoke/carol singing - Dan&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Missionary Letters - Ann Dee&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Family Calendar - Katy &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Personal History Binder gift - Katy&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;PS - Sam do you like my bullet points?&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/5894986508243658390-5560204813188838750?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/5560204813188838750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=5560204813188838750' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/5560204813188838750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/5560204813188838750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2007/11/christmas-party-revisited.html' title='Christmas Party Revisited'/><author><name>Katy Knight</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/115970380974055426367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-U_4Aib8pz08/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAD2Y/tdKIjoFNnlc/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-2445214402185913719</id><published>2007-11-11T08:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-11T17:26:30.686-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas Plans</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/Rzc8Akb2PqI/AAAAAAAAAeg/mZG2wEqvMJk/s1600-h/DSCF0013.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/Rzc8Akb2PqI/AAAAAAAAAeg/mZG2wEqvMJk/s200/DSCF0013.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131636280890113698" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/Rzc8A0b2PrI/AAAAAAAAAeo/h7z79ZIePO4/s200/DSCF0014.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131636285185081010" /&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/Rzc8CEb2PsI/AAAAAAAAAew/l9Dv3Yl6NeQ/s200/DSCF0015.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131636306659917506" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/Rzc8CUb2PtI/AAAAAAAAAe4/xPC_48VmEsg/s1600-h/DSCF0016.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/Rzc8CUb2PtI/AAAAAAAAAe4/xPC_48VmEsg/s200/DSCF0016.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131636310954884818" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/Rzc7sEb2PlI/AAAAAAAAAd4/zoCyh_dB3F4/s200/DSCF0008.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131635928702795346" /&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/Rzc7skb2PmI/AAAAAAAAAeA/yhLYOxVcF6g/s200/DSCF0009.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131635937292729954" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/Rzc7s0b2PnI/AAAAAAAAAeI/K7X1QH9keR8/s200/DSCF0010.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131635941587697266" /&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/Rzc7tUb2PoI/AAAAAAAAAeQ/o0_-XVHhkxI/s200/DSCF0011.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131635950177631874" /&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/Rzc7uEb2PpI/AAAAAAAAAeY/8sj3lh876sQ/s200/DSCF0012.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131635963062533778" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought you all might enjoy these pictures from the 2003 Christmas Party taken at the no-longer-existent Joaquin Elementary School gym.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Some of you may remember that last year we decided that we'd all take turns planning the Christmas party in pairs. Sam and I volunteered to do it this year. Here is our plan:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Gift Exchange:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We are not going to exchange gifts this year. Instead we are going to use the money we would have spent on each other to give to a family for a "Sub for Santa". I really think the grandkids should be a part of the giving and so we are going to have Mom and Dad come to each of your homes for FHE starting tomorrow. They will give a lesson about giving etc and also give each family one of these to decorate (FHE activity - please provide your own decorations) and keep in the kitchen or somewhere where it will be seen. The idea is that everyone will add money to the jar until the day of our Family Christmas party (TBD). Then the day of the party, a few of us will go and buy the gifts for the family (Dan is going to find us a family) and at the party we can decorate cookies, tie a quilt, and wrap gifts for the family and even possibly some can go and deliver the gifts - depending on what Dan thinks will be best for the particular family.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/Rzcz1Eb2PjI/AAAAAAAAAdo/OyAT0pgzjLs/s1600-h/balljar.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/Rzcz1Eb2PjI/AAAAAAAAAdo/OyAT0pgzjLs/s320/balljar.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131627287228595762" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I thought this schedule might work for FHE visits from Mom and Dad. Please let me know by writing a comment if that date works for you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;November 12: Sandy and Leslie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;November 19: Joe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;November 26: Dan and Sam&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;December 2: Karen, Ann Dee and Katy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/Rzc4EUb2PkI/AAAAAAAAAdw/z-WA11rz8k4/s320/gift.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131631947268111938" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Gifts for Mom and Dad:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;This year we are not going to &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;purchase&lt;/span&gt; gifts for Mom and Dad. Instead we are going to give them something better. Every single person in our family (spouses, children etc.) are going to write a section of their personal history. The personal histories will be compiled into a binder for Mom and Dad to keep. Mom and Dad are very excited about this idea and Dad came up with the topic for this year - "My first five years". Everyone will need to write approximately 2 pages about what they remember of their first five years of life - where they lived, what they did for fun, who was around, stories etc. This can be an activity for another FHE - then please email these personal histories so I can compile them for the gift. I think this could be a great tradition and a much more meaningful gift for our parents than orange sticks, ties, and perfume soap.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Christmas Party:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;The first thing is to decide a date - I think a logical date is Saturday December 22nd. It is the Saturday before Christmas and I'm thinking most everyone will be on Christmas break by then. Because I have a final the day before, I'm going to need some help organizing this.  Please respond on the following points:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Date - December 22nd - please let me know&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Location - maybe Ann Dee's church again (where we had Mom and Dad's 50th party) - any other ideas? &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ann Dee will you be in charge of this?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Food - &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;aulette and Sam (is that ok?)&lt;/span&gt; will be in charge of this but ideas and help will be appreciated&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Quilt for SFS family - I need someone to get it all ready so that all we need to do is tie it  at the party and it is ready to go - &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Anyone willing to be in charge of this?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Organize the purchasing of gifts - this responsibility might go to Dan as he is going to be our liaison with the family. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Dan is that ok?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sugar or gingerbread cookies - I need someone to be in charge of making cookies and providing all the materials for decorating - &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Anyone willing to be in charge of this?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Family calendar - Please email me your favorite family pictures taken this last year. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Doug will you help me again this year?&lt;/span&gt; This will most likely not be ready by the time we have our party but hopefully it will be ready by the new year.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div&gt;At the party, I thought we could sing karoake &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Dan will you bring your system?)&lt;/span&gt;, watch video footage from various family outings this year (Alaska, 50th Anniversary), write letters to Elder Lowell and Elder Rock, or whatever else you want to do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'll be posting new information on this blog so please be sure to check it or sign up for the RSS feed so you know when I post something new. Thanks&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Katy&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/5894986508243658390-2445214402185913719?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/2445214402185913719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=2445214402185913719' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/2445214402185913719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/2445214402185913719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2007/11/christmas-plans.html' title='Christmas Plans'/><author><name>Katy Knight</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/115970380974055426367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-U_4Aib8pz08/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAD2Y/tdKIjoFNnlc/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/Rzc8Akb2PqI/AAAAAAAAAeg/mZG2wEqvMJk/s72-c/DSCF0013.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-5778357036409518590</id><published>2007-10-27T19:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-27T19:49:15.351-07:00</updated><title type='text'>MARK YOUR CALENDERS!!!!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8WjEqKe4MJo/RyP0tL_mvEI/AAAAAAAAAHA/4VJAV033pW8/s1600-h/P1010031_1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8WjEqKe4MJo/RyP0tL_mvEI/AAAAAAAAAHA/4VJAV033pW8/s400/P1010031_1.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126209858028616770" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ann Dee is going to be a "featured reader" at this conference. We should go! She would love our support. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AAUW Author's Reception with Caroylyn Jessop, Ann Dee Ellis &amp; Klancy Clark De Nevers&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time: Wednesday, November 7, 2007 6:00 PM&lt;br /&gt;Location: WELLS FARGO ATRIUM, 11th Floor, 299 South Main Street, Salt Lake City, UT 84102&lt;br /&gt;Phone: 801-484-4015 &lt;br /&gt;Join us for an evening of selected readings and discussions by three local authors. The reception begins at 6 p.m. with hors d'oeuvres &amp; drinks followed by the authors readings at 7 pm. Book signings will take place after the talks at approximately 8:15 p.m.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;RESERVATIONS REQUIRED&lt;br /&gt;PLEASE RESPOND BY NOVEMBER 2&lt;br /&gt;$30 PER PERSON*&lt;br /&gt;Your check, payable to AAUW, Wasatch Branch will secure your reservation.&lt;br /&gt;Send to: Uma Khandkar&lt;br /&gt;2116 S. Lakeline Drive&lt;br /&gt;Salt Lake City, Utah 84109&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*$15.00 is a tax deductible donation to the AAUW Educational Foundation. A donation receipt will be provided at check-in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Escape(Hardcover (Cloth)) &lt;br /&gt;by Jessop, Carolyn, Palmer, Laura &lt;br /&gt;Format:  Hardcover (Cloth)&lt;br /&gt;Price:  $24.95&lt;br /&gt;Published: Broadway Books, 2007 &lt;br /&gt;Inventory Status: On Our Shelves Now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Add To Cart &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See all editions of this title &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dramatic first-person account of life inside an ultra-fundamentalist American religious sect, and one woman's courageous flight to freedom with her eight children. &lt;br /&gt;When she was eighteen years old, Carolyn Jessop was coerced into an arranged marriage with a total stranger: a man thirty-two years her senior. Merril Jessop already had three wives. But arranged plural marriages were an integral part of Carolyn's heritage: She was born into and raised in the Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (FLDS), the radical offshoot of the Mormon Church that had settled in small communities along the Arizona-Utah border. Over the next fifteen years, Carolyn had eight children and withstood her husband's psychological abuse and the watchful eyes of his other wives who were locked in a constant battle for supremacy. &lt;br /&gt;Carolyn's every move was dictated by her husband's whims. He decided where she lived and how her children would be treated. He controlled the money she earned as a school teacher. He chose when they had sex; Carolyn could only refuse--at her peril. For in the FLDS, a wife's compliance with her husband determined how much status both she and her children held in the family. Carolyn was miserable for years and wanted out, but she knew that if she tried to leave and got caught, her children would be taken away from her. No woman in the country had ever escaped from the FLDS and managed to get her children out, too. But in 2003, Carolyn chose freedom over fear and fled her home with her eight children. She had $20 to her name. &lt;br /&gt;"Escape" exposes a world tantamount to a prison camp, created by religious fanatics who, in the name of God, deprive theirfollowers the right to make choices, force women to be totally subservient to men, and brainwash children in church-run schools. Against this background, Carolyn Jessop's flight takes on an extraordinary, inspiring power. Not only did she manage a daring escape from a brutal environment, she became the first woman ever granted full custody of her children in a contested suit involving the FLDS. And in 2006, her reports to the Utah attorney general on church abuses formed a crucial part of the case that led to the arrest of their notorious leader, Warren Jeffs.&lt;br /&gt;   This Is What I Did(Hardcover (Cloth)) &lt;br /&gt;by Ellis, Ann Dee &lt;br /&gt;Format:  Hardcover (Cloth)&lt;br /&gt;Price:  $16.99&lt;br /&gt;Published: Little, Brown Young Readers, 2007 &lt;br /&gt;Inventory Status: On Our Shelves Now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Add To Cart &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See all editions of this title &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine if you had witnessed something horrific. Imagine if it had happened to your friend. And imagine if you hadn't done anything to help. That's what it's like to be Logan, an utterly frank, slightly awkward, and extremely loveable outcast enmeshed in a mysterious psychological drama. This story allows readers to piece together the sequence of events that has changed his life and changed his perspective on what it means to be a good friend and what it means to be a good person.&lt;br /&gt;This is What I Did: is a powerful read with clever touches, such as palindrome notes, strewn throughout the story and incorporated into the unique design of the book. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   The Colonel and the Pacifist: Karl Bendetsen-Perry Saito and the Incarceration of Japanese Americans During World War II(Trade Paperback)&lt;br /&gt;by de Nevers, Klancy Clark &lt;br /&gt;Format:  Trade Paperback&lt;br /&gt;Price:  $21.95&lt;br /&gt;Published: University of Utah Press, 2004 &lt;br /&gt;Inventory Status: On Our Shelves Now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Add To Cart &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See all editions of this title &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EXECUTIVE ORDER 9066. In February 1942, ten weeks after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, President Franklin D. Roosevelt put his signature to a piece of paper that allowed the forced removal of Americans of Japanese ancestry from their West Coast homes, and their incarceration in makeshift camps. Those are the facts. But two faces emerge from behind these facts: Karl R. Bendetsen, the Army major who was promoted to full colonel and placed in charge of the evacuation after formulating the concept of "military necessity," and who penned the order Roosevelt signed; and Perry H. Saito, a young college student, future Methodist minister, and former neighbor from Bendetsen's hometown of Aberdeen, Washington who was incarcerated in Tule Lake Relocation Camp. "The Colonel and the Pacifist tells the story of two men caught up in one of the most infamous episodes in American history. While they never met, Bendetsen and Saito's lives touched tangentially--from their common hometown to their eventual testimony during the 1981 hearings of the Commission on the Wartime Relocation and Internment of Civilians. In weaving together their stories, Klancy Clark de Nevers not only exposes unknown or little known aspects of World War II history, she also explores larger issues of racism and war that resonate through the years and ring eerily familiar to our post-9/11 ears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;&lt; Page Stegner returns to Salt Lake Judith Freeman returns to Salt Lake City &gt;&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-5778357036409518590?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/5778357036409518590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=5778357036409518590' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/5778357036409518590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/5778357036409518590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2007/10/mark-your-calendars.html' title='MARK YOUR CALENDERS!!!!!!'/><author><name>Karen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8WjEqKe4MJo/TR-K9tb2_EI/AAAAAAAACpA/0ujAKfGJeQ8/S220/PC240125.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8WjEqKe4MJo/RyP0tL_mvEI/AAAAAAAAAHA/4VJAV033pW8/s72-c/P1010031_1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-4170417081936431023</id><published>2007-10-17T14:12:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-17T14:20:41.943-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Down Syndrome Awareness Month</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DnQnaAiq3kg/RxZ7XjpeWKI/AAAAAAAAAAk/xb071NQE4U4/s1600-h/IMG_7339.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DnQnaAiq3kg/RxZ7XjpeWKI/AAAAAAAAAAk/xb071NQE4U4/s320/IMG_7339.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122417270816921762" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear family and friends,&lt;br /&gt; How are you?  We hope you are all well and happy.  At the moment we are all well and happy.  October is Down Syndrome Awareness month.  In order to do our part, we would like to share some of the experiences we’ve had with our daughter Lacy with you.&lt;br /&gt;Lacy was born on Aug.29th 2004.  She was born with an extra 21 chromosome. &lt;br /&gt;The Scientific name for this is Trisomy 21.  It is one of 3 different types &lt;br /&gt;of what is commonly called “Down Syndrome”.   A scientist who did a lot of &lt;br /&gt;research about these genetic variations’ last name is Down.  So they named it after him.  The exact causes of the syndrome and prevention of it are currently unknown.  Down Syndrome is something an individual has, not something they are.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Having an extra 21st chromosome brings a lot of other extra’s along with it. In Lacy’s case, and about 30-50% of other babies born with Down Syndrome, she was born with an extra hole in her heart.  This meant extra time spent in the hospital when she was born (just 2 weeks) and taking home some extra things with us to help take care of her before she could have it fixed.  She was on oxygen 24 hrs. a day. She also had to learn to eat from a bottle which took some extra time.  She was extra small and brought out extra love and concern in everyone around her.  After extra Dr. appts. to make sure they understood her condition, her cardiologists and surgeon fixed her heart when she was 6 months old.  This experience brought extra prayers and fasting and extra stress and comfort to everyone involved.  Lacy is now doing well and only has to wear oxygen when sleeping to help with some high blood pressure in her lungs which we hope in time will go away.&lt;br /&gt; She is one of approximately 5,000 babies who were born with Down Syndrome in the united states in 2004.  This equals out to be about 1 in every 800-1,000 live births per year.  We, and she now know extra wonderful, good and fun people just like her.  We have also had extra help from people in the community who work with children who have physical and mental delays.  &lt;br /&gt;We have learned so much and appreciate all of  the love, support and help we have had since she has come into our lives.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DnQnaAiq3kg/RxZ8BTpeWLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/Y-a_YVmCe2Q/s1600-h/IMG_7350.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DnQnaAiq3kg/RxZ8BTpeWLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/Y-a_YVmCe2Q/s320/IMG_7350.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122417988076460210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lacy is extra friendly.  She says “HI”, to everyone she sees.  She is extra loving and wants almost everyone to hold her.  She gives us extra kisses and sometimes extra headaches when we don’t have her full attention.  She gets extra excited to go to nursery each Sunday and likes to make her mother, and brothers chase her through the halls a lot too.  She is extra flexible because she has low muscle tone and is fun for her brothers to swing around. &lt;br /&gt;  She is extra bossy to her younger sister and extra attentive to her dad when he is trying to watch T.V.  It will take Lacy extra time to become an independent person in this life, but she and all other people with Down Syndrome have his/her own unique personality, capabilities and talents. &lt;br /&gt;Currently Lacy attends special needs pre-school at Shelly Elementary 2 times a week.  She is also going to soon be joining a dance group called “Sparkly Pals”.  It is a Utah County dance group for children with Down Syndrome.&lt;br /&gt; We love all of the extra’s Lacy has brought into our lives.   We love her &lt;br /&gt;so much, and know that we still have a lot to learn about Down Syndrome, and everything else involved with raising our family.  Thanks for letting us share!&lt;br /&gt;To learn more about Down Syndrome go to www.udsf.org Love ya,  Dan and Amy Knight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;!DSPAM:47165233186172012015232!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-4170417081936431023?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/4170417081936431023/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=4170417081936431023' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/4170417081936431023'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/4170417081936431023'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2007/10/down-syndrome-awareness-month.html' title='Down Syndrome Awareness Month'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17452949629903939339</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DnQnaAiq3kg/RxZ7XjpeWKI/AAAAAAAAAAk/xb071NQE4U4/s72-c/IMG_7339.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-1939024021557161015</id><published>2007-10-16T22:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-16T22:31:42.543-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Colleen</title><content type='html'>These are pictures that Jerry Sharp took of Colleen recently. They went on a trip to British Columbia and San Diego. I love how happy she looks in these pictures. The picture of her and the other two people was of her birthday party. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8WjEqKe4MJo/RxWbUJ0PAwI/AAAAAAAAAGY/rmBYflrf0H4/s1600-h/colleenweeks.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8WjEqKe4MJo/RxWbUJ0PAwI/AAAAAAAAAGY/rmBYflrf0H4/s400/colleenweeks.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122170921738502914" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8WjEqKe4MJo/RxWbU50PAxI/AAAAAAAAAGg/h3H_YHM9KpY/s1600-h/colleenbday.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8WjEqKe4MJo/RxWbU50PAxI/AAAAAAAAAGg/h3H_YHM9KpY/s400/colleenbday.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122170934623404818" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8WjEqKe4MJo/RxWbVp0PAyI/AAAAAAAAAGo/PQb52KwwGVY/s1600-h/colleenchrch.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8WjEqKe4MJo/RxWbVp0PAyI/AAAAAAAAAGo/PQb52KwwGVY/s400/colleenchrch.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122170947508306722" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8WjEqKe4MJo/RxWbXZ0PAzI/AAAAAAAAAGw/FUsnfiTkFKs/s1600-h/colleenjerry.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8WjEqKe4MJo/RxWbXZ0PAzI/AAAAAAAAAGw/FUsnfiTkFKs/s400/colleenjerry.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122170977573077810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8WjEqKe4MJo/RxWbZ50PA0I/AAAAAAAAAG4/DsqWUgJl6vs/s1600-h/colleenw.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8WjEqKe4MJo/RxWbZ50PA0I/AAAAAAAAAG4/DsqWUgJl6vs/s400/colleenw.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122171020522750786" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-1939024021557161015?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/1939024021557161015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=1939024021557161015' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/1939024021557161015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/1939024021557161015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2007/10/colleen_16.html' title='Colleen'/><author><name>Karen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8WjEqKe4MJo/TR-K9tb2_EI/AAAAAAAACpA/0ujAKfGJeQ8/S220/PC240125.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8WjEqKe4MJo/RxWbUJ0PAwI/AAAAAAAAAGY/rmBYflrf0H4/s72-c/colleenweeks.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-3494634479821266515</id><published>2007-10-05T22:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-05T22:38:41.488-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Colleen's obituary</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.cookfamilyfuneralhome.com/images/Colleenweeks.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://www.cookfamilyfuneralhome.com/images/Colleenweeks.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found &lt;a href="http://www.cookfamilyfuneralhome.com/obituaries.htm"&gt;this obituary&lt;/a&gt;. You can make comments or read what other people wrote about her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I copied it in case the funeral home updates their site and removes obituaries. Here it is:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Colleen Weeks, our loving Sister, daughter, aunt, cousin, friend, and fellow-worker, passed quietly from complications associated with cancer on September 29, 2007 at Swedish Hospital in Seattle Washington.&lt;br /&gt;Colleen was born March 14, 1953 in Cody Wyoming to Stanley Lynn and Katherine Olpin Weeks and later that year moved with her family to Walnut Creek California. She attended K-12 in Walnut Creek graduating from Del Valle High School in 1971. Colleen graduated with her bachelor degree from Brigham Young University in 1976.&lt;br /&gt;Her life was an example of sacrifice and service to others, especially the lives of the developmentally disabled. She worked at C.A.R. in Palo Alto, California, in Seattle at Northwest Center Industries and most recently at Creative Living Services in Seattle, Washington.&lt;br /&gt;Colleen was blessed with 6 brothers, and always wanted a sister. Her service in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, included serving in the Oakland and Seattle temples, as a primary teacher, full-time missionary in the Ohio Cleveland mission from 1978-1980 and twice as a Relief Society president 12 of the last 15 years of her life. Colleen lived the Relief Society motto “Charity Never Faileth.” Through her life of love and service Colleen influenced thousands of lives for good. She was a friendly, kind, loving and caring person who always put others first. We will miss her and we will try to be more like her.&lt;br /&gt;Colleen is survived by her mother, brothers; Alan Weeks of Riverside, CA, Paul Weeks of Orangevale, CA, Mark Weeks of Carson City, NV, Jim Weeks of El Dorado Hills, CA, John Weeks of Kent, WA and David Weeks of Lodi, CA, and 30 favorite nieces and nephews.&lt;br /&gt;Memorial services will be held Saturday, October 13, 2007 at 1:30 p.m. in the Seattle North Stake Center of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 5701 8th Ave NE Seattle, WA 98105 [Map]. Friends and family are invited to attend and celebrate the life of Colleen Weeks.&lt;br /&gt;Arrangements by Cook Family Funeral Home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-3494634479821266515?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/3494634479821266515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=3494634479821266515' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/3494634479821266515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/3494634479821266515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2007/10/colleens-obituary.html' title='Colleen&apos;s obituary'/><author><name>Katy Knight</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/115970380974055426367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-U_4Aib8pz08/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAD2Y/tdKIjoFNnlc/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-7017564099883680934</id><published>2007-10-05T12:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-11T23:08:50.461-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Colleen</title><content type='html'>It's kind of embarrassing. John Weeks left a message on my phone. He said Colleen wasn’t doing well. Some complications had interfered with her cancer treatment. He said the family was holding a fast for her and praying, "The Lord's will be done." Since that message I've found myself wiping tears off my cheeks at random moments. I have no warning of when they are going to start falling. I just know that I'm sad. I'm relieved. But I'm sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Colleen has always been in my life. I never remember life without her. She was in every way a big sister to me. I loved visiting her at 6 Deerfield Lane in Walnut Creek, Calif. She had her own room. There was a full-length mirror on the back of her door. Around the mirror she had pictures of her friends. I loved, LOVED, laying on her bed while she told me about the friend in each picture. She told me about their friendships, their lives, and families. These talks we shared taught me so much about acceptance, friendship, unconditional love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was always fun when we went to Walnut Creek to visit our cousins. You never knew what you would be doing once you got there. Sometimes we collected tadpoles and frogs. Sometimes we took cardboard up on the hill, sat on it, and rode through the golden straw at break neck speed. It was like sledding only it wasn't cold or wet. We always had Thanksgiving with the Weeks. It seemed like the turkey was never done on time.  One Thanksgiving after waiting endless hours to eat, someone (probably one of our moms) suggested we go to a movie. We were promised that dinner would be ready when we got back. I do not remember a time when I laughed so hard for so long. It was an Elvis Presley movie. I think it was called TICKLE ME. I sat with Colleen and we laughed and laughed. This goes down as one of my favorite Thanksgivings ever. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trips to San Francisco, (it was on one of these trips that Colleen explained to me what it meant when I saw two men kissing), the beach, Eichler Swim and Tennis Club, shopping, movies, Mark’s football games, a Primary Halloween party where they sang a scary song and at the end everyone yelled “BOO”. I threw up. Colleen helped me because it was in her ward. No one knew me and I was so embarrassed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In 1973 (or so) due to the fact that our beloved dog, Teto, was having problems in California, we packed up and moved to Provo. Around that same time Colleen had finished up at Rick’s College and also moved to Provo. She was attending B.Y.U. She lived in the Elms apartments. I was in the middle of my sophomore year of high school when we moved. It was terrifying. The worst part of the day was lunch. I knew no one. I couldn’t risk walking into the cafeteria and having no one to sit with so I would walk around the block until the bell rang. One day I ran into Colleen. She asked me what I was doing. I explained the dilemma. She and I made a plan. We met at a little store on University, bought lunch and ate together. It wasn’t every day. But it was enough to help me get through a very tough time in my life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Colleen often let me tag along with her and her college friends. We made many trips to Marie Calendars for pie in those days. It seemed like there was always some kind of college drama going on. There was a boy that had a huge crush on Colleen. His name was Randy. I also remember her friend, Candy. Sally, Mike Westover’s then girlfriend lived down the street from the Elms. We went over and visited her from time to time. I wouldn’t be surprised if Sally and Colleen were together right now overseeing this service.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time marched on. I graduated in 1976. In August of that year I moved to Rexburg Idaho to attend college at Rick’s. It was that New Year’s Eve that Colleen and her friend were in an awful accident. Her friend was killed and Colleen was seriously hurt. That was a horrible phone call I received from my mom. It was so unbelievable and heart breaking. She was in Los Angeles and in a coma. We waited and waited to see if she would make it, and recover. Many, many prayers, fasts, and blessings were offered in her behalf. Finally she began to improve. It was slow at first. She had to relearn everything. But her strong will and determination brought her to the point that she was functioning and taking back her life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She went on a mission to Ohio. While on her mission I got married. She scolded me for not waiting for her to get home. One day soon after she returned from her mission, she stopped by my grandma’s little house (where we lived) on 5th North. I was sprawled out on the living room floor feeling very sorry for myself. I was experiencing the insidious nausea associated with early pregnancy. She walked back to the kitchen and started laughing. Not one single clean dish was to be found. First she told me off, then she immediately went to work washing my dirty dishes. I begged her to stop but she washed them all. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the early 90’s I flew up to Seattle to visit Colleen. This was before Aunt Katherine moved up there. We went to the temple, ate lunch in the Space Needle, visited numerous members of Colleen’s ward, dropped off handmade afghans at a home for AID’s patients, attended sacrament meeting, visited Colleen’s brother, Jim and his family. It was such a fun trip! So much like the old days when we were kids. Everything we did was centered on serving others. The truth that played over and over in my head was that everyone, EVERYONE, loved Colleen. She had the ability to make people feel comfortable, wanted, needed, important, smart, cute, funny, special, valued, and loved. She showed me tons and tons of pictures of her nieces and nephews. There were drawings, cards, notes, pictures, and all sorts of things from them. She showed me each one with pride. She loved them all so much. I felt a little more connected to the cousins I had grown up with but never saw anymore. They had grown into amazing men and were raising wonderful families. Families that were lucky enough to have Colleen in their lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Colleen was so supportive of us. She came to Utah often to be with us for family events. Several times she stayed at my house. One night Colleen, Ron, and I stayed up until 3:00 in the morning talking. I was impressed with the strong spirit that dwelled in our home that night. Colleen’s testimony was so evident, strong, and unwavering. She spoke so openly about her feelings for the gospel, her life, and the hereafter. This conversation and many others have helped me know that she is happy where she is now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had another opportunity to stay with Colleen (and this time Aunt Katherine too) in Seattle. My oldest daughter Holly was driving a van and trailer up to Vashon Island for an internship with Rick’s college.&lt;br /&gt;Once Holly was settled and ready for the semester, I took the ferry back over to Seattle and spent some time with Colleen and Aunt Katherine. We had so much fun. Aunt Katherine took us to lunch at a small Italian restaurant across the water. We talked about our families, memories, stories about the mortuary, and stories about my parents. That night Colleen and I again talked late into the night. I treasure the memory of that visit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last memory I would like to share is that of how much my Uncle Stan adored Colleen. He teased her mercilessly. She always had great and clever comebacks. I can still see him tossing his head back as he laughed. I remember it like it was yesterday. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m going to miss Colleen. She was a source of bright light in my life. She has been an example to me. I am so thankful for the memories. The tears aren’t dripping down my cheeks as often but they still come. And they will for a very long time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-7017564099883680934?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/7017564099883680934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=7017564099883680934' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/7017564099883680934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/7017564099883680934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2007/10/colleen.html' title='Colleen'/><author><name>Karen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8WjEqKe4MJo/TR-K9tb2_EI/AAAAAAAACpA/0ujAKfGJeQ8/S220/PC240125.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-4097671574405566261</id><published>2007-10-03T11:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-03T11:36:34.346-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Coleen Weeks</title><content type='html'>I am sure you are all sad about the passing of our cousin and friend Coleen.  While she attended school here is Utah she used to take Dan and I around all the time.  We thought she was so cool.  Mostly I remember her before her accident.  I didn't spend as much time with her afterward.  I remember one time she took Dan and I to the movie "Coma."  We were very young and scared to death.  Mom was ticked off, but I bet she would have taken us if we would have asked her.  I am not sure if Dan even remembers all this.&lt;br /&gt;sam&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-4097671574405566261?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/4097671574405566261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=4097671574405566261' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/4097671574405566261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/4097671574405566261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2007/10/coleen-weeks.html' title='Coleen Weeks'/><author><name>sam94</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-860102021465361663</id><published>2007-09-28T11:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-28T12:16:49.286-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How I Made A Hole In One - by Dan Knight</title><content type='html'>Well, it all happened yesterday, September 27, 2007 at around 2:45pm. A group of my buddies were out at Sleepy Ridge, the new golf course in Orem to celebrate my friend Craig's birthday. I was playing like crap (pardon the near french) but just having fun hanging with the guys. On hole number 12 I finally got my first par of the day (to show you how badly I was playing). Then, I parred again on 13. Then we got to number 14, a 154 yard par 3 hole. I stepped up first with my 7-iron and hit what felt like a really really good shot. It went very high and seemed to be heading fairly close to the flag. However, it was a really bright day and with the glare and all none of us could really make out where it ended up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Friend Jim said, "that is very tight to the hole." I replied, "yeah, but it's never quite as close as you think once you get up to the green." We all nodded our heads in agreement. Usually the golf gods give you hope only to dash them when you learn the reality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So then Jim gets up there and knocks a good shot up on the green as well. Then Jeremy hits one a little awry almost killing a guy in the fairway to the left of us. We get a good giggle and head off in our carts toward the green.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the green Jim and I are only seeing his ball so I start to think pessimistically. I said to Jim, "see, it's never as close as you think. It must have taken a weird bounce and rolled off the green somewhere." Then Jim noticed a ball mark about 10 feet in front of and to the right of the hole. He said, "let's check the hole." We both literally tip-toed up to the hole. I was feeling super nervous. Then there it was sitting right in the stinking hole! Jim hugged me and lifted me up. I threw my putter and wedge into the air (I had my wedge in my hand because I was sure I was going to have to chip up on to the green). We screamed as loud as we could for the other foursomes in our group who were all ahead of us. It was a fun time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a little publicity that came from it:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://deseretnews.com/article/1,5143,695213969,00.html"&gt;http://deseretnews.com/article/1,5143,695213969,00.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the scorecard. It's kinda hard to see, but look at the score on hole #14.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DnQnaAiq3kg/Rv1PCfX7l1I/AAAAAAAAAAM/NY98ymZ4128/s1600-h/hole-in-1-card_sm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5115331655962957650" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DnQnaAiq3kg/Rv1PCfX7l1I/AAAAAAAAAAM/NY98ymZ4128/s320/hole-in-1-card_sm.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;On the next hole Jim noticed that we had randomly hopped on this cart at the beginning of the round.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DnQnaAiq3kg/Rv1QXPX7l2I/AAAAAAAAAAU/Mfw-ErZr3Oo/s1600-h/treo+pics%232+114.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5115333111956871010" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DnQnaAiq3kg/Rv1QXPX7l2I/AAAAAAAAAAU/Mfw-ErZr3Oo/s320/treo+pics%232+114.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/5894986508243658390-860102021465361663?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/860102021465361663/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=860102021465361663' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/860102021465361663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/860102021465361663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2007/09/how-i-made-hole-in-one-by-dan-knight.html' title='How I Made A Hole In One - by Dan Knight'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17452949629903939339</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DnQnaAiq3kg/Rv1PCfX7l1I/AAAAAAAAAAM/NY98ymZ4128/s72-c/hole-in-1-card_sm.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-2581177848628130195</id><published>2007-09-25T11:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-25T11:49:46.162-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sam-The Crime Fighter</title><content type='html'>At the first AF football game, during the halftime celebration. The whole team came out to do the Haka and the cheerleaders introduced the new mascot "Rocky" the Caveman. During all of this two young men, they looked like they were probably seniors, ran right down the middle of the field, end zone to end zone. They were BUCK NAKED. They started in the South end zone and left the field through a fence beyond the North end zone. I then noticed a teacher way out in a field in a red shirt and shorts chasing the two guys toward the education trailers about 200 yards away. I ran to the end of the bleachers to see what happened and sure enough, the teacher made a perfect tackle on one of the nude dudes. I laughed and went back and sat down. After about 10 minutes I started wondering what was happening over there, I ran down to ground level on the North end of the bleachers and saw that the teacher was laying on top of the naked kid, just holding him there. It looked like they were struggling a little bit. The first adult male I saw I said "Hey, that teacher looks like he could use some help" He was like "Well, I have all these kids, could you go over there or watch these kids. Someone needs to help get these kids taken care of". The guy had a stroller, holding another kid and had about a 3 yr old trailing him. So I told him I would go. I started over there, as soon as the adult was out of range I turned around and headed back to the bleachers. Just then a group of little kids who were playing football on the field between the bleachers and the trailers came running up. They were all yelling "HEY, That teacher said to find an adult to come over there and help him and please hurry". I looked around and sure enough, they were talking to me, damnit. I hesitated, then went back up to the bleachers and sat by Paulette and Courtney. I was sitting there really torn about what to do and Ruby and Court thought it was sooo funny. I kept looking over and no one was going over and helping I couldn't believe it. Finally, I decided to head over there. Once I got whithin 50', the teacher was yelling "GO CALL THE POLICE, GO CALL THE POLICE". I thought, no way am I calling the cops, I don't deal well with cops. While I was heading back to the bleachers all the little kids were like, "Mister, the other streaker is over there in the bleachers, go get him too". I told them to go get him themselves. I went back to my seat. Sat there uncomfortably for awhile, finally after about 15 minutes I called the cops. They had heard nothing about it. They came and the teacher was still laying on the naked teenager. Then they spent the rest of the night trying to catch the other kid. I know they didn't because they called me the next Monday to see if I would come and identify the 2nd streaker who had come to pick up his keys that the one who got caught was holding when he was apprehended. Smart streakers huh? As they were leading the first kid off he made some smart ass comment to me. I told him I never would have gotten involved if I didn't have 3 daughters at the game who were scared to death at what they saw flapping in the wind.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-2581177848628130195?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/2581177848628130195/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=2581177848628130195' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/2581177848628130195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/2581177848628130195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2007/09/sam-crime-fighter.html' title='Sam-The Crime Fighter'/><author><name>sam94</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-7168631553896103572</id><published>2007-09-25T06:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-25T06:05:10.507-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dad's personal history</title><content type='html'>Mom and Dad are taking my personal history class. Here's some of Dad's writing so far . . . I'll post more tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;The &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Elkhorn&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; Ranch&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;After a year in Shelley my mother decided she wanted to finish her bachelors degree. She had only a two-year teaching credential from &lt;st1:placename st="on"&gt;Idaho&lt;/st1:PlaceName&gt; &lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;State&lt;/st1:PlaceType&gt; and some extra classes from &lt;st1:placename st="on"&gt;Idaho&lt;/st1:PlaceName&gt; &lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;State&lt;/st1:PlaceType&gt; and summer school at the &lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;University&lt;/st1:PlaceType&gt; of &lt;st1:placename st="on"&gt;Idaho&lt;/st1:PlaceName&gt; in &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Moscow&lt;/st1:City&gt;, &lt;st1:state st="on"&gt;Idaho&lt;/st1:State&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;. I remember stories about the summer in &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Moscow&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt;. I was a few months old. I was the cutest, smartest little baby you have ever seen. At least that is what I was told. During this time we went to see an aircraft carrier in &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:placename st="on"&gt;Seattle&lt;/st1:PlaceName&gt;  &lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;Harbor&lt;/st1:PlaceType&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; and I was very well behaved. While my parents were in school, a niece of Kate Bennett—another teaching friend of my mother—was my baby sitter. She really learned to love me. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I know that she learned to love me because she told me so. She lived in &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Concord&lt;/st1:City&gt;, &lt;st1:state st="on"&gt;California&lt;/st1:State&gt; while I was on my mission in &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Walnut   Creek&lt;/st1:City&gt;, &lt;st1:state st="on"&gt;California&lt;/st1:State&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;. She had my companion and me over to dinner several times. We taught her husband who was not a member of the Church a lesson or two, but he wasn’t interested enough to make much progress. He was a nice guy and told us a very funny story on himself. He was painting their house and a little friend of his daughter stood and watched him carefully while he stopped and had a cigarette. Finally he asked the little boy if something was wrong. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The boy said, “You are going to die.” &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;He said, “Why!”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The boy said, “Because you’re smoking a cigarette.”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;So he put out the cigarette and asked, “Am I going to die now?”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The little boy said, “I don’t know.”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;What does all this have to do with the Madson Ranch at &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Elkhorn&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt;? Nothing except my mother discovered that she had enough credits that she could get her degree if she spent two semesters full time at a University. She decided to go to &lt;st1:placename st="on"&gt;Brigham&lt;/st1:PlaceName&gt; &lt;st1:placename st="on"&gt;Young&lt;/st1:PlaceName&gt; &lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;University&lt;/st1:PlaceType&gt; and leave me with her mother on the Ranch in &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Elkhorn&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; for the year. I have no idea why she picked BYU. &lt;st1:placename st="on"&gt;Idaho&lt;/st1:PlaceName&gt; &lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;State&lt;/st1:PlaceType&gt;, &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;University  of Idaho&lt;/st1:City&gt;, &lt;st1:state st="on"&gt;Utah&lt;/st1:State&gt; State and the &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;University&lt;/st1:PlaceType&gt; of &lt;st1:placename st="on"&gt;Utah&lt;/st1:PlaceName&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; all seem to make more sense. BYU was a small—about 2,000 students—liberal arts college that emphasized teacher training. Maybe she thought it would be easier. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Anyway it was decided. My mother was going to spend the school year at BYU in &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Provo&lt;/st1:City&gt;, &lt;st1:state st="on"&gt;Utah&lt;/st1:State&gt; and I was going to live with my grandmother on the ranch at &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Elkhorn&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt;. To get to the ranch from Malad, Idaho you drive west on Elkhorn road through St. Johns past the LDS Chapel and turn right onto Madsen Lane when you see the red brick one room schoolhouse. My mother taught her brothers and sisters in that school during her first year out of school. She said it was “hell.” The ranch is about one mile from the school on a dirt road. The road continues on a couple miles until it reaches the foot of the mountains. The Madson ranch is the only ranch on &lt;st1:street st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:address st="on"&gt;Madsen Lane&lt;/st1:address&gt;&lt;/st1:Street&gt;. I don’t know why there is a discrepancy in the spelling. All I know is may great grandfather spelled his name Madsen. I don’t know if their was a falling out in the family or if they the “o” made it more American. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The Madsens were Danish and originally settled &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Salem&lt;/st1:City&gt; when the got to &lt;st1:state st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Utah&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:State&gt;. My grandfather and four of his brothers ended up in southern &lt;st1:state st="on"&gt;Idaho&lt;/st1:State&gt; or &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Northern Utah&lt;/st1:place&gt;. They worked as sheepherders and freighted wheat to the railhead at &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Corinne&lt;/st1:City&gt;, &lt;st1:state st="on"&gt;Utah&lt;/st1:State&gt; near &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Brigham   City&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt;. They took honey and other goods back to &lt;st1:state st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Idaho&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:State&gt; and sold them to the settlers. This is how my grandfather got hooked up with a pretty little Welch lady, Ann Amelia Clark. They had 11 children—Earl, Hattie, Elva, James, Jack, Orville, Rex, Grant, Parke, Orlin and Amelia Ann. Earl was killed in 1928 in a farm accident and my grandfather died of a heart attack in 1930 when he was 55 years old. When I came to live at the ranch in 1940 I was five years old and very excited to be living with my aunt and uncles. Amelia Ann was 11, Orlin was 13, Parke was 15 and in high school. Grant was 18 and we saw him quite often. James and Jack ran the farm and had since grandfather’s death. James was the oldest son. He was 18 at the time of Grandfather’s death. He gave up college to take over the ranch. He had just married Idonna Nuttal from &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Downey&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; when I came to stay at the ranch. So he had a new wife and the responsibility to take care of her, his mother and three teen age siblings and me. He immediately started remodeling the house and by putting in indoor plumbing. That first year he and Idonna lived in a rented house in &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;St.   Johns&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt;.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;It was called a ranch, but it was really a dry farm. My grandparents were married in 1905. They bought the dry farm in &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Elkhorn&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; the next year. It was isolated—the last farm before the mountains to the north. It took several years of hard work to clear the land of sagebrush—“grubbing sage”—and preparing the land for planting wheat. A dry farm depends on rain to water the crops. The main crop was winter wheat. The land is plowed and harrowed in the spring lays idle all summer. It is planted in the fall. The farm also had some barley and spring wheat—planted in the spring. There was alfalfa grown on some land several miles away that had water rights. I learned about bringing in hay when I was a teenager. The ranch also had milch cows, pigs, chickens, sheep and range cattle—anything to make a buck and feed the family. Of course there was also a vegetable garden.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The house replaced the original log cabin in 1919. The toilet was an outhouse; water was pumped by a windmill that was housed in a shed just east of the house. The only source of hot water was a teakettle or a hot water reservoir on the wood stove in the kitchen. I had a bath every Saturday night in a tin washtub whether I needed it or not. The house was lit by acetylene gas that was pumped through the house. There was no electricity except for that generated by a small windmill attached to a tree east of house. The electricity was used to power a radio.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The first thing I remember about the ranch was how excited I was when James drove up with his new car and his new bride. It was a brand new 1940 Chevrolet deluxe. I guess I could read a little bit by then because I remember how impressed I was with the word deluxe. James was a quiet man. He didn’t say much. When he did speak it was to tell you what to do or correct you. At least that is how a five-year-old little boy felt. I was in awe and intimidated by James. It wasn’t much different when I worked for him as a teenager. I slept on a cot in the attic of the house—a huge room that was filled with all kinds of old gems such as old wind up record players with a huge horn. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if gte vml 1]&gt;&lt;v:shapetype id="_x0000_t202" coordsize="21600,21600" spt="202" path="m,l,21600r21600,l21600,xe"&gt;  &lt;v:stroke joinstyle="miter"&gt;  &lt;v:path gradientshapeok="t" connecttype="rect"&gt; &lt;/v:shapetype&gt;&lt;v:shape id="_x0000_s1026" type="#_x0000_t202" style="'position:absolute;"&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if !vml]--&gt;&lt;span style="position: absolute; z-index: 1; margin-left: 124px; margin-top: 118px; width: 222px; height: 42px;"&gt;  &lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"&gt;  &lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;   &lt;td style="border: 0.75pt solid black; background: white none repeat scroll 0% 50%; vertical-align: top; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;" bgcolor="white" height="42" width="222"&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if !mso]--&gt;&lt;span style="position: absolute; 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&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-7168631553896103572?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/7168631553896103572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=7168631553896103572' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/7168631553896103572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/7168631553896103572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2007/09/dads-personal-history.html' title='Dad&apos;s personal history'/><author><name>Ann Dee</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-7110033098032037229</id><published>2007-09-14T05:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-14T05:43:18.472-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello?</title><content type='html'>Ann Dee:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are some ideas to blog about:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lucy&lt;br /&gt;Sandy&lt;br /&gt;Dad - stake conference (not all of were there)&lt;br /&gt;Dad broke the window in his house&lt;br /&gt;Sam calling the cops on the streakers&lt;br /&gt;Your new family history class - use this blog as an example&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Katy&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-7110033098032037229?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/7110033098032037229/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=7110033098032037229' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/7110033098032037229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/7110033098032037229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2007/09/hello.html' title='Hello?'/><author><name>Katy Knight</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/115970380974055426367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-U_4Aib8pz08/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAD2Y/tdKIjoFNnlc/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-7513318378001121291</id><published>2007-07-30T21:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-30T21:33:25.001-07:00</updated><title type='text'>From the cruise</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/Rq67kA0FB4I/AAAAAAAAABU/XSgyQReh1MM/s1600-h/img001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/Rq67kA0FB4I/AAAAAAAAABU/XSgyQReh1MM/s320/img001.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093214455970727810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just thought ya'll might want to see this ...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-7513318378001121291?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/7513318378001121291/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=7513318378001121291' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/7513318378001121291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/7513318378001121291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2007/07/from-cruise.html' title='From the cruise'/><author><name>Katy Knight</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/115970380974055426367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-U_4Aib8pz08/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAD2Y/tdKIjoFNnlc/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/Rq67kA0FB4I/AAAAAAAAABU/XSgyQReh1MM/s72-c/img001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-3776931372558967491</id><published>2007-07-26T07:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-26T07:56:31.957-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OqpV-oP0Thg/Rqi1dyiZpyI/AAAAAAAAAKw/4wEWoL6S4S4/s1600-h/LVK02.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OqpV-oP0Thg/Rqi1dyiZpyI/AAAAAAAAAKw/4wEWoL6S4S4/s200/LVK02.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5091518902129239842" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never would have guessed from this photo that Dad would come to love Sudoku. Hmmm. Go figure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Please click on the photo . . . it's classic.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-3776931372558967491?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/3776931372558967491/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=3776931372558967491' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/3776931372558967491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/3776931372558967491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2007/07/i-never-would-have-guessed-from-this.html' title=''/><author><name>Ann Dee</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OqpV-oP0Thg/Rqi1dyiZpyI/AAAAAAAAAKw/4wEWoL6S4S4/s72-c/LVK02.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-7681026594919952760</id><published>2007-07-25T21:23:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-25T21:23:37.076-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kitchen rug, please</title><content type='html'>I wanted to interview mom today but she was determined to go buy a rug for under the sink. And I said, "Where?" and she said, "There are a couple of good places just around the corner."&lt;br /&gt;I said, "Name them."&lt;br /&gt;And she said, "Well, there's a fabric store and a dry goods store."&lt;br /&gt;"Okay," I said. "But you need a rug."&lt;br /&gt;"I'll find something" she said. And then she packed up her purse and said, "I'll see you in a few minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom read at the Bean Museum today. Van and I go with her every Wednesday. Today she was calm and beautiful. Have you ever looked at Mom? She's beautiful. She was wearing black capri pants and a black blouse that has red and yellow and orange squares on it. The best part about that blouse was when she made all the kids raise their hands to the sky  . . . as high as they could . . . higher than hers . . . when she had them do that, her garments showed.&lt;br /&gt;But she didn't care.&lt;br /&gt;She made them clap.&lt;br /&gt;Make a funny face.&lt;br /&gt;Stomp their feet.&lt;br /&gt;Swish their legs.&lt;br /&gt;And sing the ABCs along with her.&lt;br /&gt;It felt good to be there. I admit sometimes I get nervous for her because some of the kids don't listen or sometimes they start pulling each others' hair. I try to make them listen by laughing really loud at the story.&lt;br /&gt;I've even made a few comments like, "That's really scary" when she showed a picture of an alligator. A few of the kids gave me a "duh" face or maybe it was a "why do you keep talking face" and I realized that I didn't need to worry about Mom. She was in control.&lt;br /&gt;Today this kid named George got really excited because there was a Giraffe named George in the story. "Hey, my name is George," he said. Mom smiled and said, "Goody goody." And then he said, "My dad's named George and my grandpa is named George." Mom listened very carefully and then said, "Well, you've got a famous name" and then kept on reading.&lt;br /&gt;After she finished, three kids asked their Mom's why story time was over. "I want to hear more stories," they said.&lt;br /&gt;"I know," she replied. "We'll have to come on time next week so we can hear more."&lt;br /&gt;Mom smiled and said, "I'm so glad you could come."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom always says, "you don't have to pick me up. It's so far." And it's true, sometimes we have to rush out the door after Van's nap and my hair looks like a fur ball (but that's nothing new) and maybe Van's clothes have banana on them, but it's always worth it when we get there. If you guys can,  you should come. It's Wednesdays at 11:00 at the Bean Museum. Afterwards you can look at stuffed dead animals.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-7681026594919952760?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/7681026594919952760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=7681026594919952760' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/7681026594919952760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/7681026594919952760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2007/07/kitchen-rug-please.html' title='Kitchen rug, please'/><author><name>CamE</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12555453998009561245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/40/6621/320/DCAM00411.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-6749018039563030663</id><published>2007-07-20T20:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-21T23:47:40.107-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Katy really is the best</title><content type='html'>If we had a family survivor, she would win.  If we had a family Amazing Race, she would win. If we had a family Next Top Model, she would win.  Come on guys - let's all face it. Ann Dee&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-6749018039563030663?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/6749018039563030663/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=6749018039563030663' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/6749018039563030663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/6749018039563030663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2007/07/katy-really-is-best.html' title='Katy really is the best'/><author><name>Ann Dee</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-2332658536670442692</id><published>2007-07-10T12:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-12T14:48:41.542-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dad</title><content type='html'>Dad was ordained as Stake Patriarch on Sunday, July 8th. Van was fussy. That made me sad because I couldn't concentrate. It feel weird to have Dad be a patriarch. Weird, but like everyone said at the ordination, right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Dad used to sing really loud to wake me up in the mornings. I don't remember the song. Something like "Oh what a beautiful morning" and it would make me really mad. REALLY mad.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;He also drove me and In-Ping, and Kim to Freshman basketball practice at 5:30 in the morning. He'd ask me all kinds of questions about what I was going to do that day and if I was excited for practice. I know I barked at him . . . a lot  . . . in front of my friends. I'm sorry. But it was 5:30 a.m.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;The other morning-Dad stories all involve breakfast. When most you were still sleeping, I'd get up with Dad and watch him make oatmeal or pancakes or cracked wheat. I also would BEG him to go buy chocolate milk and doughnuts. He relented about 5% of the time and we'd drive down to  the BYU cougareat bakery and I'd get to choose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Dad went to all my games. He thought I should've started Varsity when I was still in Junior High. He also bought me the best basketball shoes in the world. I loved going to BYU games with him even though sometimes I'd make a hole with my fingers so that I could only see the basket. I'd watch the whole second half like that. He never said it bugged him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Dad also let me ride on the top of the station wagon when we were up in the mountains. Katy and I would lay on our bellies and get a whole lot of dirt in our face but it felt like we were being soooo adventurous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sometimes he'd give us money to buy a candy bar from the vending machines at the Eyring Science Center and we always had to play the violin for his classes. I remember feeling like we were in a dungeon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Dad promised that one day we'd have a waterslide coming down the hill into our yard at oak lane and we'd have a sports court and one day he'd buy the whole hill and everyone would have a house and it'd be called Knight Hill. I wonder if that'll still happen. Maybe we could have Knight Wells Fargo building.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Dad brought those mugs back from Germany. And those tennis shoes back from Korea. And I think the rainbow bright bowling jacket was from Korea too. I told all my friends that my dad was a world class physicist. They asked what that was and I said I didn't know but it had to do with lasers and liquid nitrogen.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sometimes Dad fell asleep on the stand when he was in the bishopbric of the 2nd ward. Mom would get mad at him about it and he said he was just thinking with his eyes closed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Dad went walking every morning. He used to run marathons but I don't think I was born when that happened. But he always told me I could do anything I wanted. I was good enough, smart enough and dog gone it, people liked me. He is the best dad. He is the smartest dad. He is the nicest dad. He is the funniest dad. He is the kindest dad. He is the dad I know I was meant to have and I'm so glad he's going to be able to bless so many people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-2332658536670442692?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/2332658536670442692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=2332658536670442692' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/2332658536670442692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/2332658536670442692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2007/07/dad.html' title='Dad'/><author><name>Ann Dee</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-3150027676449071685</id><published>2007-07-05T13:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-05T14:00:26.747-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1460 Apple Avenue</title><content type='html'>377-9083  How many of you remember that phone number? That's our old Oak lane phone number.  But, how many of you remember the Apple avenue number?  377-2629.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What else do I remember about the apple ave house?  Here's my list:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;cool laundry chute from upstairs&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;game carpet downstairs&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;weird iron fence with gate around the staircase (with the special feature of being able to slam the gate latch through Joe's door if Sandy got mad enough at him).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;funky metallic-blue pull down blinds on all the west-side upstairs windows&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;a weird front door that seemed like it was on the side of the house&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;back yard had pretty good baseball dimensions&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Things that happened there that i remember:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Deer jumped over the fence and didn't know how to get out&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;i remember when dad went through a photography phase and took some cool shots of baby katy on the tramp with a chalk board-thing background&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Rhiny (sp?) Leichty deer meat neighborhood stew eating that was pretty nasty but very memorable&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;feeding his horses&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;throwing snowballs at cars from the balcony&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Lots of "Dice" rehearsals downstairs (Joe played bass)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;1 awesome "Dice" concert in the back yard with bottle rockets and everything&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Tito lived there for a little while until, according to mom, he "went to live with a farmer on a big ranch where he could run around more."  (I believed this until I was about 25 when I finally figured it out.)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-3150027676449071685?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/3150027676449071685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=3150027676449071685' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/3150027676449071685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/3150027676449071685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2007/07/1460-apple-avenue.html' title='1460 Apple Avenue'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17452949629903939339</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-5943213044540504730</id><published>2007-07-01T21:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-01T21:51:08.287-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Dan, it says you have permission to post. I'll call you. ALSO, I guess we all forgot the fast Sunday tradition of getting together at a park. Cam and I and Van and I were sitting there for HOURS.&lt;br /&gt;Hmmmm.&lt;br /&gt;It's hot.&lt;br /&gt;I am trying to get the Wells Fargo conference room set up for the big PARTAY.&lt;br /&gt;Is anyone doing the other stuff? Lava Hot Springs?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of Lava Hot Springs, today is the official release date for my book . . . usually people have big parties and stuff, but it's Sunday so, yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But there is going to be a release party at Shelby's store on July 21st.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-5943213044540504730?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/5943213044540504730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=5943213044540504730' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/5943213044540504730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/5943213044540504730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2007/07/dan-it-says-you-have-permission-to-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Ann Dee</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-4782460238670160842</id><published>2007-06-28T09:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-28T10:00:34.006-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cruising Alaska</title><content type='html'>I really want to thank everybody for a really fun time on the Alaskan Cruise.  I thought I had a chance for MVP of the cruise, but my failures in Kareoke might have hurt my chances.  I am still voting for myself though. &lt;br /&gt;I thought everybody had an awesome time, except maybe Karen at the end when she looked like Rocky Balboa "Cut me Mick, cut me".  I want to thank Mom and Dad the was great and a great idea to get us all together again.  It was cool being with all my brothers and sisters again.  You are all so dang nice. &lt;br /&gt;Please register your votes for MVP-take into account everything ie: taking charge at airports, taking charge before and after the cruise pertaining to ground transportation, fun on the cruise, eating the most Coconut Ranger cookies, salsa dancing, coolest outfits(headbands, wristbands,vests, mock turtlenecks) you know stuff like that.  Sorry but you cannot vote for Van as he is not one of Larry and Jewel's children or a spouse. &lt;br /&gt;Thanks again everyone, especially Mom and Dad.  We love you very much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-4782460238670160842?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/4782460238670160842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=4782460238670160842' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/4782460238670160842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/4782460238670160842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2007/06/cruising-alaska.html' title='Cruising Alaska'/><author><name>sam94</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-8618373931312842497</id><published>2007-06-12T08:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-12T12:22:44.909-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Sometimes I get sad because I miss our old house on 1476 Oak Lane&lt;br /&gt;I miss the water fights with 7-up bottles.&lt;br /&gt;I miss pulling weeds in front of the family room window.&lt;br /&gt;I miss running into the mirror in the orange living room.&lt;br /&gt;I miss sleeping out on the tramp in the summer.&lt;br /&gt;I miss the swinging chairs in the kitchen.&lt;br /&gt;I miss looking at my reflection in the 70s wallpaper in the sewing room.&lt;br /&gt;I miss lying on the waterbed and watching the little TV in Mom and Dad's.&lt;br /&gt;I miss getting ready in the gigantic bathroom downstairs with the stuffed boxes of winter clothes.&lt;br /&gt;I miss doing olympic events of the bar in the family room.&lt;br /&gt;I miss helping mom move all the plants into the greenhouse.&lt;br /&gt;I miss seeing the mountains through the hole in the roof out the kitchen window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cam never got to go in that house (unless you count the tour we took a year or so ago because one of my students was renting it--talk about traumatic). And no matter how hard I try, I can't really explain why I loved it so much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-8618373931312842497?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/8618373931312842497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=8618373931312842497' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/8618373931312842497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/8618373931312842497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2007/06/sometimes-i-get-sad-because-i-miss-our.html' title=''/><author><name>Ann Dee</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-6112952754563526029</id><published>2007-06-08T09:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-08T09:40:12.135-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='California'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='swimming'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='naked'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Karen: I remember being so mad because Dad took us to the neighbors because Mom was at the hospital having Joe. And the lady babysitting us was telling us that dad was so excited he was walking three inches off the floor because it was a boy--that dad was so glad it was a boy. And I was so mad. What's wrong with girls.&lt;br /&gt;Mom: Every place we've been there's been at least two or three Mormon families that we've been friends with.&lt;br /&gt;Karen: There was a big event in Escondido village when that one family got a color TV and she served cream puffs. It was Ream. El Ream. It was the biggest night and it was the wonderful world of Disney and there were fireworks, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: Tell about that swim meet.&lt;br /&gt;D: In Los Altos. We entered a Los Altos family swimming meet. Some pool in Los Altos. It was after we moved. And anyway, we did really well in it. There was individual events and so on and our family was the best of course. I'd been out of town for part of the time before the meet and I guess they called before the meet and wanted to know what everyone was going to swim. And someone entered me into two events without me knowing.&lt;br /&gt;M: Laughing.&lt;br /&gt;D: It was the medley relay family one and an individual father freestyle.&lt;br /&gt;M: Who  do you think entered him?&lt;br /&gt;D: you did.&lt;br /&gt;M: No.&lt;br /&gt;D: yes. But anyway, we were winning as a family but then they said, "Okay it's time for the father's individual freestyle" and they called my name. I was shocked. I acted like I didn't hear. I heard my name again. I was clear on the other side of the pool with a couple of the kids and I just ignored it. There was no way I was going to swim. They announced my name a couple of times and then they said, "well, I guess he isn't here." That's when my kids betrayed me. They started yelling "He's right here. Here he is!"  And they were all pointing at me. I said "no, no. I'm not doing it." but everyone said "we'll wait." I kept saying, "Please, no. I dont' even have my suit on."So i went and put on my swimsuit and all the other guys are all muscuclar in their speedos and tan and here i come out in my trunks all white.&lt;br /&gt;Karen: All my friends were like, your dad is blue.&lt;br /&gt;D: So I jumped in and I was a lenght of the pool behind everyone all splashing.&lt;br /&gt;A: why didn't beat everyone?&lt;br /&gt;D: I didn't know how to swim. I learned how to swim when I was an adult and I wasn't very good. Our kids were really good.&lt;br /&gt;M: we saw to it that our kids were good. We were a california family. You have to swim.&lt;br /&gt;D: Anyway, that's the story. Everyone had a good time.&lt;br /&gt;M: Oh my gosh, how did we get through all those years, all those kids, all those activities.&lt;br /&gt;A: Didn't you go swimming with all the stanford guys?&lt;br /&gt;D: I did occasionally.&lt;br /&gt;K: Yeah, naked.&lt;br /&gt;D: I did sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;K: He had a back problem so he was supposed to lie on the floor and when he did, we'd all jump on him.&lt;br /&gt;A: Mom, what would you do all day?&lt;br /&gt;M: Are you kidding? How many children did I have? I sewed the clothes, washed the clothes.&lt;br /&gt;D; she did substitute teaching. She taught at a school on el camino and there was black kid in the class that got smart with her and she grabbed him by ear and took him to the principal.&lt;br /&gt;A: Well, like would you go to t he park every day?&lt;br /&gt;D; There were play things.&lt;br /&gt;K: Mom was always the primary president or the RS president. Really active and busy with the church. And she had cute girls who liked her. Except remember when that Tuft girl stuck her tongue out at you?&lt;br /&gt;M: No.&lt;br /&gt;K: You were mad for weeks. You also used to go swim laps at the pool.&lt;br /&gt;A: Where were the kids?&lt;br /&gt;K: We'd all go the pool and then they'd have adult swim for ten minutes. All the kids had to get out and they'd do laps.&lt;br /&gt;M: It was really fun because all our friends would be there and we'd just hang out and siwm&lt;br /&gt;K: And then when the snack bar opened, we'd get all kinds of stuff. Do you remember dad?&lt;br /&gt;D: It's new to me. I knew the Eikler but I didn't know you guys were eating and playing.&lt;br /&gt;M: Karen was a powerful swimmer.&lt;br /&gt;D; They were all great but she was amazing at the butterfly.&lt;br /&gt;K: I had to do it because the coach just threw me into it right before a race.&lt;br /&gt;M; i Remember that.&lt;br /&gt;D: I remember they had a coed relay in their meets and karen would always do the butterfly and she'd always beat the boy.&lt;br /&gt;M; She'd always get them ahead.&lt;br /&gt;A: All the kids were good until you moved to Utah.&lt;br /&gt;D: Well, Sam swam. We swam here for awhile. Didn't yo learn to swim?&lt;br /&gt;A: I was in the Provo Pikes but I wasn't very good.&lt;br /&gt;D: I think katy can swim.&lt;br /&gt;A: Katy got hit by a car on her way to swim team.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-6112952754563526029?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/6112952754563526029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=6112952754563526029' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/6112952754563526029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/6112952754563526029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2007/06/karen-i-remember-being-so-mad-because.html' title=''/><author><name>Ann Dee</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-1065609599393730815</id><published>2007-06-08T09:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-08T09:23:04.155-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom&apos;s childhood.'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grandma Knight'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='singing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bullying'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tootsie'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Discussion with Mom, Dad, and Karen on Wednesday, June 6th, 2008 about Grandma Knight, Joe, Kids, and Tootsie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom: Grandma knight didn't love me. I was not her choice.&lt;br /&gt;Karen: Dad was that true?&lt;br /&gt;M: Change the subject.&lt;br /&gt;Dad: Karen wants to talk about her.&lt;br /&gt;Ann Dee: You said Joe had a leash?&lt;br /&gt;M: If you have babies that little and they run that fast, you have to manage.&lt;br /&gt;A: What was it like with all those kids?&lt;br /&gt;M: Joe did run away every chance he got.&lt;br /&gt;A: Where would he go?&lt;br /&gt;M: I was always right behind him what ever way he went but he went everywhere.&lt;br /&gt;D; He'd just run off in the store.&lt;br /&gt;M: The first time I ever took himto the store we walked in and before we even came to the first counter he was gone. I was panicked. I had never been so panicked in my life. I must have had Sandy with me and I didn't know he was going to take off. I wasn't prepared. After that, I got prepared.&lt;br /&gt;A: Where did you live when you first got married?&lt;br /&gt;D: We lived in Orem. We lived on about 16th south. We lived within a block of the Westmore school in Orem.&lt;br /&gt;M: Because I taught there. It was a block west of westmore school.&lt;br /&gt;A: Was it an apartment?&lt;br /&gt;D; Yeah, it was a basement apartment and a guy named Madsen was the landlord and he lived upstairs and he was a relative. We didn't know him very well. He was pretty old--like seventy(ha ha from Dad) But he was a relative and he was famous because he left his wife and married this cute little chick. So we were living there with him and his cute little chick.&lt;br /&gt;A: Did you hang out with him?&lt;br /&gt;D: No we didn't do much with him but he was nice. But all we really knew is what people told us about him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: Mom you used to get bullied? I never knew that.&lt;br /&gt;M: In the second grade a little girl named Marilyn got all the kids to hate me and mom didn't care because LuJean was going through the same thing I was but she was in high school. So Mom didn't  really pay any attention to me. &lt;br /&gt;A: Why did that girl do that?&lt;br /&gt;M: She was new in town and everyone wanted to play with her and she got all the girls not to like me and she gave Tootsie a beautiful gift if she would not be my friend. When she first moved in all of us would go to her house on the way home from school and her mother would always have doughnuts and cookies and punch and wonderful things so Marilyn got really popular. I got to go a couple of times until she told everyone to not be my friend. She bought everyone away. Tootsie stayed with me a long time but then she called one day and said Marilyn was going to give her an a big beautiful present if she wasn't my friend. Tootsie told me she was sorry but she couldn't turn Marilyn down. &lt;br /&gt;A: Really?&lt;br /&gt;M: It was so bad. We didn't have that happen to our girls did we? Karen had that in the fifth grade.&lt;br /&gt;D: Well, when your mother was little she and Tootsie went around singing "I don't want to play in your yard" all over the place.&lt;br /&gt;M: Tootsie's mother taught us the song. The motivation was she wanted Tootsie's sister Jeraldine to learn how to accompany people on the piano so she made us learn songs. Then we got scheduled all over.&lt;br /&gt;D: But Jewel's little grandmother came over to help her memorize songs. That was before Tootsie.&lt;br /&gt;M: Oh , yeah. I sang when I was really little. They thought it was remarkable that I could memorize those songs. I was like five. I didn't do the stuff with Tootsie until I was in elementary school. I sang by myself all the time. They would put me on a stand kind of in front of the piano and I'd sing these songs at the top of my lungs.&lt;br /&gt;K: remember when you made me sing I am a child of God all by myself when I was like three?&lt;br /&gt;M: No, I would never do that to you.&lt;br /&gt;A: Do you remember any of the songs?&lt;br /&gt;M: "I'm a big girl now." we used to take turns singing different lines.&lt;br /&gt;A: How'd you get back together with Tootsie after the Marilyn thing.&lt;br /&gt;M: It just took time. For a long time she wasn't my friend but then we worked it out. Sometimes Me and Tootsie and Arlene Jorgenson would go to the top of the hill past Manila and ride our bikes clear to the other side of Pleasant Grove. We'd fly down that hill.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-1065609599393730815?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/1065609599393730815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=1065609599393730815' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/1065609599393730815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/1065609599393730815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2007/06/discussion-with-mom-dad-and-karen-on.html' title=''/><author><name>Ann Dee</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-4710466784054906292</id><published>2007-06-07T19:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-07T19:33:14.703-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Ummm, Brady Whittingham was on the &lt;a href="http://www.heraldextra.com/content/view/224703/3/"&gt;front page of the paper &lt;/a&gt;for a new Family Film Festival he's started here in Utah Valley. Are you going to any movies Dan? Is anyone? I'm curious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I have a new interview to post about Mom and Dad when they lived in California. I'd like to post pictures with it. Does anyone have swim meet pictures? Eikler swimming pool pics? Or any from that era? I'm hoping to post one interview  week with pics.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-4710466784054906292?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/4710466784054906292/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=4710466784054906292' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/4710466784054906292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/4710466784054906292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2007/06/ummm-brady-whittingham-was-on-front.html' title=''/><author><name>Ann Dee</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-7610012892514806279</id><published>2007-06-04T21:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-04T21:36:05.032-07:00</updated><title type='text'>June 3, 2007 at Murray City Park</title><content type='html'>Here is a picture of Mom with Van&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/RmTneuWYEvI/AAAAAAAAAAc/dYBuGxbW4ww/s1600-h/DSCF1388.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/RmTneuWYEvI/AAAAAAAAAAc/dYBuGxbW4ww/s320/DSCF1388.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5072433595349996274" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Tyson hurt his knee and Luke tried to console him.&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/RmTnrOWYEwI/AAAAAAAAAAk/jgSOhx36nnA/s1600-h/DSCF1406.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/RmTnrOWYEwI/AAAAAAAAAAk/jgSOhx36nnA/s320/DSCF1406.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5072433810098361090" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To see more pictures from the park, go to www.knightkids.com&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, Jewel, Jessie and Katy beat Jordan, Luke, Tyson and JC at some weird throw sticks at blocks game!  Go girls.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-7610012892514806279?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/7610012892514806279/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=7610012892514806279' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/7610012892514806279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/7610012892514806279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2007/06/here-is-picture-of-mom-with-van-tyson.html' title='June 3, 2007 at Murray City Park'/><author><name>Katy Knight</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/115970380974055426367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-U_4Aib8pz08/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAD2Y/tdKIjoFNnlc/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9NSi3RgBlBk/RmTneuWYEvI/AAAAAAAAAAc/dYBuGxbW4ww/s72-c/DSCF1388.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-6780936270318778308</id><published>2007-06-04T18:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-04T18:45:47.976-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lava Hot Springs</title><content type='html'>On Sunday we discussed possibly camping/staying in hotels at &lt;a href="http://www.lavahotsprings.com/"&gt;Lava Hot Springs&lt;/a&gt; for a weekend and going to see where Dad grew up. I'm thinking beginning of August would be good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Maybe the first weekend?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;That's August 3-5th. What does anyone/everyone say?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I also think we should figure out our own accommodations. There's plenty of places to &lt;a href="http://www.lavahotsprings.com/friends/accommodations2.htm"&gt;camp&lt;/a&gt; and  &lt;a href="http://www.rrvacationrentals.com/"&gt;vacation rentals&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.lavahotsprings.org/lodging.html"&gt;lots of hotels&lt;/a&gt;. Leslie even said you could get up early and do a day trip on Saturday. If everyone plans what's best for their family, it will be a lot easier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So . . . .&lt;br /&gt;Who can go?&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/5894986508243658390-6780936270318778308?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/6780936270318778308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=6780936270318778308' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/6780936270318778308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/6780936270318778308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2007/06/lava-hot-springs.html' title='Lava Hot Springs'/><author><name>Ann Dee</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-3944016013812149277</id><published>2007-06-02T10:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-02T10:15:26.723-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I cannot get into this blog...</title><content type='html'>This blog is called that's a word with 'a' bark on it.  We all know Jewel says 'that's a word with THE bark on it'.  In most cases the a vs. the would be no big deal...but since this is a blog that has to enetered exactly this 'mess up'  messed me up and that is a word with THE bark on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AnnDee did not grow up in the 'Damn you hide', 'oh hell', 'hells sakes', 'get you cummy (sic) over here', 'I'm gonna tan your hide', 'word with THE bark on it' era.  So we can forgive an honest mistake.  AnnDee grew up with a kinder gentler Jewel as a mom. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I grew up in the beat by Jewel or beat by Karen (or her boyfriend) era.  Donestic violence ended in the Knight home when Kate and AnnDee came along.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-3944016013812149277?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/3944016013812149277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=3944016013812149277' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/3944016013812149277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/3944016013812149277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2007/06/i-cannot-get-into-this-blog.html' title='I cannot get into this blog...'/><author><name>Joekey</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-1429131250342800179</id><published>2007-06-02T06:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-02T06:23:18.604-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Now You Can TOO!</title><content type='html'>I just wrote this really awesome post and it got erased.&lt;br /&gt;I don't even care.&lt;br /&gt;Here's a link to how to get to &lt;a href="http://www.mapquest.com/maps/map.adp?address=5201%20Murray%20Park%20Ln&amp;city=Murray&amp;amp;state=UT&amp;zipcode=84107%2d4803&amp;amp;country=US&amp;geodiff=1"&gt;Mur&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mapquest.com/maps/map.adp?address=5201%20Murray%20Park%20Ln&amp;amp;city=Murray&amp;state=UT&amp;amp;zipcode=84107%2d4803&amp;country=US&amp;amp;geodiff=1"&gt;ray Park. &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're planning on meeting there on Sunday at six.&lt;br /&gt;Here's a picture of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OqpV-oP0Thg/RmFtuAFOp9I/AAAAAAAAAGQ/4Uf2GJ9Q0_I/s1600-h/Honeymoon+030.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OqpV-oP0Thg/RmFtuAFOp9I/AAAAAAAAAGQ/4Uf2GJ9Q0_I/s200/Honeymoon+030.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5071455292459231186" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; It's right after I went swimming and it's really really cute.&lt;br /&gt;I'm just saying.&lt;br /&gt;And here's a picture of Dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OqpV-oP0Thg/RmFt-AFOp-I/AAAAAAAAAGY/tLJ6KxQ0wuY/s1600-h/dad.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OqpV-oP0Thg/RmFt-AFOp-I/AAAAAAAAAGY/tLJ6KxQ0wuY/s200/dad.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5071455567337138146" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's pretty cute too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you open the email I sent you and log in, you too can post really really cute pictures of yourself and Dad.&lt;br /&gt;You can also contribute to this living history of our family.&lt;br /&gt;That sounded really really good.&lt;br /&gt;Wow.&lt;br /&gt;Okay.&lt;br /&gt;Here's one last picture:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.classreport.org/usa/ut/provo/phs/mascot.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.classreport.org/usa/ut/provo/phs/mascot.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-1429131250342800179?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/1429131250342800179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=1429131250342800179' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/1429131250342800179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/1429131250342800179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2007/06/now-you-can-too.html' title='Now You Can TOO!'/><author><name>Ann Dee</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OqpV-oP0Thg/RmFtuAFOp9I/AAAAAAAAAGQ/4Uf2GJ9Q0_I/s72-c/Honeymoon+030.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-7254126252268835084</id><published>2007-05-30T17:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-30T17:13:24.289-07:00</updated><title type='text'>About Dad's Dad and Mom</title><content type='html'>Mom: Well your mother told me that your parents kissed under the stars.&lt;br /&gt;Ann Dee: what?&lt;br /&gt;D: I don't know if they did that. They probably camped a lot.&lt;br /&gt;A: Why would they camp a lot.&lt;br /&gt;D: They lived in Idaho.&lt;br /&gt;M: and no money and everybody went camping.&lt;br /&gt;D: They met at Idaho State College in Pocatello when they were both getting their teaching credential.&lt;br /&gt;A: Did they get married right away?&lt;br /&gt;D: I don't know. I think they got married when they got out of school. They ended up going to a little town/village called Thomas. It was a village just west of Blackfoot Idaho and just east of them was a place called Riverside. And west of them was Rockford Idaho which is where they lived and my father's parents also lived there. My grandfather had a farm there and my father built a log cabin on the lot next door to them.&lt;br /&gt;A: So they lived next door to his parents.&lt;br /&gt;D:Yeah. And they didn't have children for a long time but finally when my dad was about 26 years old and my dad was 30  years old they had me. They were living in that log cabin but I was born in the Pocatello ID hospital. And they taught in a two man school house. First grade to eighth grade. Dad was the principal and Mom was a teacher. I think she taught in Malad for awhile--and Elkhorn. She taught her brothers and sisters and she didn't like it. and my father died after I was about a year and a half old. And they are buried in the cemetery that is called the riverside Thomas cemetery and it's right across from Snake River High school.&lt;br /&gt;A: Are the houses still there?&lt;br /&gt;D: No. But I know where they were. There's an elementary school where their houses were. The farm has obviously been taken over by a big corporate farm. Leslie and Terry said they went there and they couldn't find the grave and they asked the sexton and they said, oh yeah, the school teachers and they knew right where they were. and Karen said when we went to bury mom they all said, oh, I wondered what happened to her. So obviously the community all knew about them. He died so young and they all remembered.&lt;br /&gt;A: We should have a family reunion out there. That's a really good idea I just had.&lt;br /&gt;D: We should.&lt;br /&gt;a: Is it close to Lava Hot Springs?&lt;br /&gt;D: Lava hot springs is in between. We should go there. I have a cousin who lives there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If anyone wants to go camping in Idaho and then go see where Dad sort of grew up, please reply here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-7254126252268835084?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/7254126252268835084/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=7254126252268835084' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/7254126252268835084'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/7254126252268835084'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2007/05/about-dads-dad-and-mom.html' title='About Dad&apos;s Dad and Mom'/><author><name>Ann Dee</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-3362367773989614602</id><published>2007-05-30T16:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-30T17:05:24.557-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How I Met Your Mother</title><content type='html'>Ann Dee: Mom, how did you meet Dad?&lt;br /&gt;Dad: That's controversial.&lt;br /&gt;A: Why do you say that?&lt;br /&gt;D: We'll see what your mother says.&lt;br /&gt;Mom: Well, Dee's girlfriend invited us to come to her house. Dee brought me and she brought your Dad.&lt;br /&gt;D: We were in high school. Mom was there with Elaine Kimball who was engaged to Dee.&lt;br /&gt;A: What?&lt;br /&gt;D: Elaine Kimball was the daughter of Eddie Kimball who was the athletic director at BYU and her younger bro. was David Kimball my buddy. And she was engaged to Dee and she invited Mom over to her house (the Fagg's house now) that they built. And I was over hanging out with David. And Elaine came in and introduced us. She said, This is Larry. And then she kind of teased us around.&lt;br /&gt;A: Like what?&lt;br /&gt;D: I dont know. Just teased us. Then your mother left and she asked me if I liked her and I said yes and she said do you want me to  line you up and I said yes. But then nothing came of it. I didn't see her for two years. Then at our wedding she said that she asked Jewel if she wanted to go out with me but Mom said I was too tall and she said she asked you but I said no, she's too short. But obviously neither of those were true. So she was lying. She lied all the time.&lt;br /&gt;K: how did Dee get rid of her?&lt;br /&gt;D: Mom caught her running around with other guys all the time. She was kind of a crazy girl. She was always doing weird stuff like saying outrageous things and a little overbearing.&lt;br /&gt;A: So you guys didn't see each other for two years.&lt;br /&gt;D: Yeah, we didn't see each other until my mission. The other connection was Kathryn used to work for my mother in the library. My mother ran the circulation desk and Kathryn got books from people. And i went there and dusted books. Actually I got a job when I was about six or seven picking up papers on the lower part of campus for 10 cents an hour. So Kathyrn remembered me from when I was kid. She saw me in church when I was a missionary and figured out who I was and invited us to dinner.&lt;br /&gt;A: Did She know that you guys had met?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;script&gt;&lt;!-- D(["mb","D: No but it didn\'t matter. I don\'t think Jewel even remembered.\u003cbr /\&gt;M: I did too.\u003cbr /\&gt;D: And Jewel says that she had designs to get us together.\u003cbr /\&gt;M: And taht was it for both  of us. We didn\'t date another person.\u003cbr /\&gt;M: There was a point where Dad thougth i was too short.\u003cbr /\&gt;D: No. I never said such a thing.\u003cbr /\&gt;M: Yes, you did. And my mom was worried Dad was too tall.\u003cbr /\&gt;A:So how many times did you eat at Kathryn\'s?\u003cbr /\&gt;D: Oh, quite a few.\u003cbr /\&gt;A: and mom was always there?\u003cbr /\&gt;D: Yeah.\u003cbr /\&gt;M: I lived there all summer. She had tons of kids.\u003cbr /\&gt;D: She invited other people too. It wasn\'t just us. She\'d have a bunch of people to dinner.\u003cbr /\&gt;A: So you guys like flirting or soemting.\u003cbr /\&gt;D: Of course not.\u003cbr /\&gt;M:He always shook my hand after church and then he said will you write to me? I said yes. I\'ll write two words for every one your write and I did. I actaully counted.\u003cbr /\&gt;A: Whoa. So then you guys wrote. and then when you got home from your mission  . . .\u003cbr /\&gt;D: What?\u003cbr /\&gt;A: You called Mom? Was she at the airport?\u003cbr /\&gt;D: I didn\'t fly I drove.\u003cbr /\&gt;M: He drove a poor old car that was white and had a hole in the floor that you could see the road.\u003cbr /\&gt;D: I drove it home from Fresno. It was my own car. I had to travel all up and down the san joaquin valley and because I was the district leader (it was differnt then) and I had to drive from Merced to Visaila.\u003cbr /\&gt;A: SO you drove that car all over.\u003cbr /\&gt;D: yeah, I drove that home by myself through barstow and then up highway 91 which is now I15.\u003cbr /\&gt;M to V: You  know what your grandpa used to do? He used to teach the kids to hang on and pull themself up.\u003cbr /\&gt;A: So when you got home did you call Mom?\u003cbr /\&gt;D: Yeah, I called her and I went over to see her.\u003cbr /\&gt;A; Were you planning on marrying her?\u003cbr /\&gt;D: I can\'t answer that. We went on a little drive.\u003cbr /\&gt;M: UP the canyon.\u003cbr /\&gt;D: The american fork canyon.\u003cbr /\&gt;M: And he gave me a little kiss.\u003cbr /\&gt;D: Oh.\u003cbr /\&gt;M: you did. And were you released?\u003cbr /\&gt;D: I don\'t know. the preseident knew where i was going.\u003cbr /\&gt;",1] );  //--&gt;&lt;/script&gt;D: No but it didn't matter. I don't think Jewel even remembered.&lt;br /&gt;M: I did too.&lt;br /&gt;D: And Jewel says that she had designs to get us together.&lt;br /&gt;M: And that was it for both  of us. We didn't date another person.&lt;br /&gt;M: There was a point where Dad thought I was too short.&lt;br /&gt;D: No. I never said such a thing.&lt;br /&gt;M: Yes, you did. And my mom was worried Dad was too tall.&lt;br /&gt;A:So how many times did you eat at Kathryn's?&lt;br /&gt;D: Oh, quite a few.&lt;br /&gt;A: and mom was always there?&lt;br /&gt;D: Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;M: I lived there all summer. She had tons of kids.&lt;br /&gt;D: She invited other people too. It wasn't just us. She'd have a bunch of people to dinner.&lt;br /&gt;A: So you guys like flirting or something.&lt;br /&gt;D: Of course not.&lt;br /&gt;M:He always shook my hand after church and then he said will you write to me? I said yes. I'll write two words for every one your write and I did. I actually counted.&lt;br /&gt;A: Whoa. So then you guys wrote. and then when you got home from your mission  . . .&lt;br /&gt;D: What?&lt;br /&gt;A: You called Mom? Was she at the airport?&lt;br /&gt;D: I didn't fly I drove.&lt;br /&gt;M: He drove a poor old car that was white and had a hole in the floor that you could see the road.&lt;br /&gt;D: I drove it home from Fresno. It was my own car. I had to travel all up and down the San Joaquin valley and because I was the district leader (it was different then) and I had to drive from Merced to Visaila.&lt;br /&gt;A: SO you drove that car all over.&lt;br /&gt;D: yeah, I drove that home by myself through Barstow and then up highway 91 which is now I15.&lt;br /&gt;M to V: You  know what your grandpa used to do? He used to teach the kids to hang on and pull themself up.&lt;br /&gt;A: So when you got home did you call Mom?&lt;br /&gt;D: Yeah, I called her and I went over to see her.&lt;br /&gt;A; Were you planning on marrying her?&lt;br /&gt;D: I can't answer that. We went on a little drive.&lt;br /&gt;M: UP the canyon.&lt;br /&gt;D: The American Fork canyon.&lt;br /&gt;M: And he gave me a little kiss.&lt;br /&gt;D: Oh.&lt;br /&gt;M: you did. And were you released?&lt;br /&gt;D: I don't know. the president knew where i was going.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;script&gt;&lt;!-- D(["mb","M: We\'re probably still breaking rules.\u003cbr /\&gt;D: we probably are.\u003cbr /\&gt;A: So, ummm, how long after you got home did you get married.\u003cbr /\&gt;D: well, that was probably April or something and we got married in August.\u003cbr /\&gt;A: Dad, a bit soon.\u003cbr /\&gt;M: Grandma had all kind of cute little tall girls all picked out for him and I know she was disappointed. Daughters of professors.\u003cbr /\&gt;A: Is that true?\u003cbr /\&gt;D: No.\u003cbr /\&gt;M: yes. It was true.\u003cbr /\&gt;D: we talked about waiting but then we just got married.\u003cbr /\&gt;A: And then, you had Karen in a year.\u003cbr /\&gt;D: Yeah.\u003cbr /\&gt;A: But was mom done with school?\u003cbr /\&gt;D: Yes. She was done with school and was teaching in Orem.\u003cbr /\&gt;M: Fourth grade.\u003cbr /\&gt;____________________\u003cbr /\&gt;Ann Dee Ellis\u003cbr /\&gt;4110B JFSB\u003cbr /\&gt;English Department\u003cbr /\&gt;Brigham Young University\u003cbr /\&gt;Provo, UT  84602-6710\u003cbr /\&gt;Tel: 801-422-9784\u003cbr /\&gt;Fax: 801-422-8910\u003cbr /\&gt;\u003c/div\&gt;",0] ); D(["ce"]);  //--&gt;&lt;/script&gt;M: We're probably still breaking rules.&lt;br /&gt;D: we probably are.&lt;br /&gt;A: So, ummm, how long after you got home did you get married.&lt;br /&gt;D: well, that was probably April or something and we got married in August.&lt;br /&gt;A: Dad, a bit soon.&lt;br /&gt;M: Grandma had all kind of cute little tall girls all picked out for him and I know she was disappointed. Daughters of professors.&lt;br /&gt;A: Is that true?&lt;br /&gt;D: No.&lt;br /&gt;M: yes. It was true.&lt;br /&gt;D: we talked about waiting but then we just got married.&lt;br /&gt;A: And then, you had Karen in a year.&lt;br /&gt;D: Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;A: But was mom done with school?&lt;br /&gt;D: Yes. She was done with school and was teaching in Orem.&lt;br /&gt;M: Fourth grade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*There was some talk about Dad writing in his love/missionary letters how he'd heard that every kiss takes one year off of your life and he wondered if Mom would help him commit suicide . . . or something.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-3362367773989614602?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/3362367773989614602/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=3362367773989614602' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/3362367773989614602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/3362367773989614602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2007/05/how-i-met-your-mother.html' title='How I Met Your Mother'/><author><name>Ann Dee</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-179634656836530649</id><published>2007-05-29T12:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-29T12:38:42.489-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Coke Machine</title><content type='html'>A few unanswered questions . . .&lt;br /&gt;Did Dan really get his hand stuck in a coke machine?&lt;br /&gt;Did Sandy's friend Simon ever pay the BYU ticket he got driving Dad's car?&lt;br /&gt;Did Karen REALLY have a huge party when the rest of the family drove across the country?&lt;br /&gt;Did Sam actually punch Dan in the stomach when he snored?&lt;br /&gt;Did Joe really hold a babysitter hostage by spraying her with the hose?&lt;br /&gt;Did Katy actually enjoy being Dod Richen? and if so, why?&lt;br /&gt;Did Leslie really drink a screwdriver at a friend's house in California?&lt;br /&gt;How many times did the BMW get crashed?&lt;br /&gt;How many times did the station wagon get crashed? The mustang? The Honda? etc.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-179634656836530649?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/179634656836530649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=179634656836530649' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/179634656836530649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/179634656836530649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2007/05/coke-machine.html' title='Coke Machine'/><author><name>Ann Dee</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-3174648959526848150</id><published>2007-05-28T06:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-28T06:56:53.937-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Soap Operas or Practicing the Violin</title><content type='html'>AD and I used to pig out and watch soap operas when we got home from school. The second we heard the garage door open, we'd run into the orange carpeted living room and start practicing the violin to make mom believe we had been doing it for a long time. We were brats and I'm sure she knew cause we didn't really improve at the rate we should have if we were practicing that much!  I really wanted to know if Jennifer Horton and Jack Devereau ever got together. Did Marlena ever get that devil out of her and who was Stefano trying to kill?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-3174648959526848150?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/3174648959526848150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=3174648959526848150' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/3174648959526848150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/3174648959526848150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2007/05/soap-operas-or-practicing-violin.html' title='Soap Operas or Practicing the Violin'/><author><name>Katy Knight</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/115970380974055426367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-U_4Aib8pz08/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAD2Y/tdKIjoFNnlc/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894986508243658390.post-7173906414174890564</id><published>2007-05-24T13:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-24T13:27:59.910-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Because this is easier . . .</title><content type='html'>Mom and I are going to start doing some interviews. I'm going over there tomorrow. I'm going to ask about the time KT and I stayed at night games too long and I didn't want to stay long but KT did because she had a crush on BB but she's going to say she didn't have a crush on him because she says I lie but I don't and she did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was the only time I remember getting spanked. Mom and Dad were standing on the front lawn and were there police? I can't remember. It feels like there were police or at least that they told us they had called the police. I was so scared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;V just threw up on me. That's okay. I fed him to much rice cereal. My bad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5894986508243658390-7173906414174890564?l=wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/feeds/7173906414174890564/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5894986508243658390&amp;postID=7173906414174890564' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/7173906414174890564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5894986508243658390/posts/default/7173906414174890564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wordwithabarkonit.blogspot.com/2007/05/because-this-is-easier.html' title='Because this is easier . . .'/><author><name>Ann Dee</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
