tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65590878654602425632024-03-14T01:53:03.759-07:00The Nielson FamilyThe adventures of Michael, Christina, McKay and TalmageThe Nielson Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917968743964483585noreply@blogger.comBlogger164125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6559087865460242563.post-83724998053253307882014-12-25T09:30:00.000-07:002015-01-01T21:35:13.414-07:00Merry Christmas 2014!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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McKay was up bright and early before 6am. Daddy 30 min before he started waking up the other two kids.<br />
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No ready to be up!<br />
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We woke some kids up a little to early.<br />
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<br />The Nielson Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917968743964483585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6559087865460242563.post-84984236419357193852013-09-06T20:51:00.000-07:002013-09-06T20:51:03.816-07:00I'm not crazy!!<div class="MsoNormal">
So yesterday, Michael tells me, in the afternoon he is going to be
doing Clinic and he was going to be doing some OMM, it's the stuff DO's do,
with another Doctor. I asked him if he
is not to busy can I come in and you can learn some more stuff on me by this
other doctor, he thought it was a great idea. Because I have back problems and
he has tried. </div>
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The doctor looks at my back, thinks I need an x-ray because
my back indented so much. Before I now it I become a patient. They make me a
chart.Michael watched kids while I got the X-ray. It was great I didn't have
to go back or get a babysitter. They look at my back nothing, thought maybe a
slipped-disc. It looked pretty good. So they get the radiology report back.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Michael calls me, "Well I'm holding your radiology
report in my hand."</div>
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"Anything
exciting?"</div>
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"Well sort of.."</div>
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"OK?"</div>
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"You have a kidney stone. And I feel really bad
because, well you kept telling me you were in pain but I kept telling you were
OK. Sorry."</div>
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I'm laughing the whole time.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Like a few weeks ago I was having lots of pain and I
jokingly said it's probably my kidney, my kidneys are failing. He just rolled his eyes
and said it was probably my period coming or gas. He believed I was having pain
but just didn't know what it could be.</div>
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I just laughed and said see I'm not crazy!</div>
The Nielson Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917968743964483585noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6559087865460242563.post-69873052672099900352013-08-26T21:29:00.000-07:002013-09-06T21:33:27.878-07:00Getting big!Grant went in for his 2 month check up.<br />12 lbs ( 37%) and 24 inches (70%).<br />Head: 15.5 inches (20%)The Nielson Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917968743964483585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6559087865460242563.post-41082256739771793492013-07-22T22:10:00.000-07:002013-07-22T22:11:42.232-07:00ContrastThree years ago today, Christina delivered our second son.
He never took a breath, never opened his eyes, but his impact on our lives has
not faded.<br />
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I sit tonight, studying neonatal resuscitation in
preparation for an exam on Wednesday, I am awash in emotion. This is a strange
week for us. McKay turned 4 two days ago. Grant celebrated 1 month today. Even
Talmage had a milestone this week, as he hit 18 months last Tuesday. All of
these things, all celebrations of varying magnitudes, each cast strange contrast
on this shadowy week. They are all reminders that life moves forward. Always. And
that is both good and bad.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Still, tonight, it isn’t sorrow I am feeling. Homesickness,
maybe. But mostly, I think, gratitude. Christina’s sisters and their beautiful
children took time today to visit and decorate Connor’s grave. This action, as
simple as it may seem, brought an immense amount of love and comfort into our
home and our hearts. It isn’t always easy to be so far away from home, especially
at times like this. But I am happy to report that distance doesn’t dim a family’s
love. I am so grateful that others remember Connor as an important part of our
family, too.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Thank you.</div>
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<a href="https://fbcdn-sphotos-b-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/p480x480/1012397_10151716036808232_1579408161_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Photo: Happy Birthday Connor!" border="0" height="400" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-b-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/p480x480/1012397_10151716036808232_1579408161_n.jpg" width="300" /></a><a href="https://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/p480x480/1016906_10151716073833232_1288625955_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Photo: Wishing Connor a Happy Birthday!" border="0" height="400" src="https://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/p480x480/1016906_10151716073833232_1288625955_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
The Nielson Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917968743964483585noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6559087865460242563.post-25595041339946457212013-06-24T21:19:00.000-07:002013-09-06T21:27:05.423-07:00Grant Charles<div style="text-align: center;">
Grant C. Nielson was born on June 22, 2 1/2 weeks early</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
He was only 8lbs! And 19.5 inches long</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DfvyqdYFEhk/Uiqp7Ruzy-I/AAAAAAAAB10/VGPvQusGRBw/s1600/DSC_0585.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DfvyqdYFEhk/Uiqp7Ruzy-I/AAAAAAAAB10/VGPvQusGRBw/s320/DSC_0585.JPG" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This isn't the best picture of Grant, he is purple because he is so busied. He is a lot cuter now!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love my boys!</td></tr>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nl7Lg7yJ7To/UiqqHEq-TZI/AAAAAAAAB18/xzmgNxP5gNo/s1600/DSC_0609.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nl7Lg7yJ7To/UiqqHEq-TZI/AAAAAAAAB18/xzmgNxP5gNo/s320/DSC_0609.JPG" width="320" /></a>The Nielson Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917968743964483585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6559087865460242563.post-25621573291042257122013-06-16T22:02:00.000-07:002013-06-16T22:02:30.931-07:00Rapid City<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0dGGY-ssu9s/Ub6Xjxux4eI/AAAAAAAAB0c/YujnHAsZfjE/s1600/Match0.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0dGGY-ssu9s/Ub6Xjxux4eI/AAAAAAAAB0c/YujnHAsZfjE/s1600/Match0.JPG" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
We were sitting in the parking lot at the zoo – Christina,
the two boys and I. I had met Christina there after a short morning on service
with a gastroenterologist. It was hot; like Phoenix hot. A massive
miscommunication had relocated our small e-mail opening ceremony here, and
after a brief but intensely frustrating technological argument with Christina’s
new smart phone, I got the e-mail open.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rapid City, it said. Rapid City – as in South Dakota.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We sat quietly for a moment while I stared at the tiny
screen: rereading, processing. Then we went to McDonald’s.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The Match” had dealt us something of a surprise. OK, a huge
surprise. It certainly wasn't Plan A. Or Plan B. Plan F? Maybe. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The Match” is a system of placing potential medical school
graduates into post-graduate training spots, commonly known as “residency.”
This moment had been near my mind for well over a year, with the anxiety of
this day weighing on mind since early in my third year of training.
Preparations for this moment had taken me to Indiana and Pennsylvania; to
Colorado, Wyoming and Idaho. It had taken me away from my home and family for
nearly six months. And just like that, it was over. Match Day had gotten the final word, and there
was no room for argument. Rapid City it would be.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I found it interesting, on a personal level, that despite
all the preparation, all the travel, all the anxiety, I had a difficult time
praying about the Match. I can’t explain it. When I prepared for my personal
prayers, the words wouldn’t seem to participate in the journey from heart to
brain to tongue. Finally, in the last few days prior to the Match, I stammered
out a combination of words that made the trip: “Please bless that I may end up
in the place I am supposed to be; the place where Thou would have me be.”</div>
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<br /></div>
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And with those words stumbling out during prayers, should I
really be surprised?</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-90r24tg6N0w/Ub6Rt_AnATI/AAAAAAAAB0I/TIMn_G7aT4k/s1600/DSC_0235.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-90r24tg6N0w/Ub6Rt_AnATI/AAAAAAAAB0I/TIMn_G7aT4k/s320/DSC_0235.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our family visiting Mount Rushmore during November 2012.</td></tr>
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Rewind to November. Christina and the boys had patiently
endured a road trip stretching into its sixth day when we crossed into South
Dakota. We had endured horrendous Wyoming wind, a hotel door that locked us out
without all our belongings, and car sickness; not to mention all the
frustrations of two young boys cooped up and strapped down in car seats. Each
stop on the journey seemed to be further away from where we were hoping to be –
until the sun rose on the second largest city in South Dakota. We found a
beautiful city set in the wonderland of the Black Hills. Though lacking in the
majesty (or magnitude) of the Rocky Mountains, the Black Hills carry a unique
beauty all their own. We found Rapid City to be a family-friendly paradise
filled with pleasant people next to a wildly inviting outdoor playground.
During our one-day visit, we saw deer, big horn sheep and mountain goats. (Side
note: Rapid City only made the list of possibilities because I saw it on an
Outdoor Life ranking of the best cities for outdoorsmen – it was No. 2.) Swirled
into this location is a residency fitting nearly all the criteria I had set
forth when I began to search for the perfect residency.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WUDvnT5fZIQ/Ub6Rt3vywSI/AAAAAAAAB0A/HwM8NcZffQ4/s1600/DSC_0218.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WUDvnT5fZIQ/Ub6Rt3vywSI/AAAAAAAAB0A/HwM8NcZffQ4/s320/DSC_0218.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two rams pose for pictures during our first visit to Rapid City.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-T7CsJpMyUfE/Ub6Rtu_sRxI/AAAAAAAABz8/LD0YnCAZHIE/s1600/DSC_0210.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-T7CsJpMyUfE/Ub6Rtu_sRxI/AAAAAAAABz8/LD0YnCAZHIE/s320/DSC_0210.jpg" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Talmage at the "Art Walk" in Rapid City.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Time marched forward, and though we remembered Rapid City
fondly and continued to discuss South Dakota as a place to consider for a
future home, we also managed to find reasons to move it down our “Rank List.”
Among other reasons, it is <i>difficult</i>
to travel to Rapid City, and when we learned our family would be growing this
summer, the desire to be close to family grew stronger and stronger. At the
time the rank list was sent into the Match Masters, Rapid City had found its
way down to No. 6.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2H8CaspCVC4/Ub6MDk3RNWI/AAAAAAAAByw/Ew19qI3QmiA/s1600/Black+hills+landscape+blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2H8CaspCVC4/Ub6MDk3RNWI/AAAAAAAAByw/Ew19qI3QmiA/s320/Black+hills+landscape+blog.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of many beautiful views of the Black Hills.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Fast forward now, to the present. We have settled in a home
in a quiet Rapid City neighborhood near the hospital, have enjoyed multiple
trips to the Black Hills, been to the Reptile Gardens and the Rapid City
Aquatic Center, toured Custer State Park and evened happened upon a small herd
of elk. Our garden is planted and green, and flowers are blooming in the yard.
We have found friends in the church and the residency, and each day Rapid City
begins to feel more like home. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-swWY3zTxuyU/Ub6OR4T363I/AAAAAAAABzU/k39XMs3A7e8/s1600/Custer+blog+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-swWY3zTxuyU/Ub6OR4T363I/AAAAAAAABzU/k39XMs3A7e8/s320/Custer+blog+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sylvan Lake in Custer State Park.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BMebqIKkmik/Ub6OR_VjdYI/AAAAAAAABzQ/gARghnwF4o8/s1600/Custer+blog+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BMebqIKkmik/Ub6OR_VjdYI/AAAAAAAABzQ/gARghnwF4o8/s320/Custer+blog+2.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Canadian goose at Sylvan Lake.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p6t1eptQ5x4/Ub6OR1FHM1I/AAAAAAAABzM/VKWcHqryOkw/s1600/Custer+blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p6t1eptQ5x4/Ub6OR1FHM1I/AAAAAAAABzM/VKWcHqryOkw/s320/Custer+blog.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A buffalo grazing in Custer State Park.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ld-xh8L2zBM/Ub6OTMtFGAI/AAAAAAAABzo/tQn2hSc-3Rs/s1600/sheep+blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ld-xh8L2zBM/Ub6OTMtFGAI/AAAAAAAABzo/tQn2hSc-3Rs/s320/sheep+blog.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A ram grazing near Keystone in May 2013.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3nQr4in0zTo/Ub6OS3qZriI/AAAAAAAABzk/XHtWLWu61EY/s1600/mt+rushmore+profile+blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3nQr4in0zTo/Ub6OS3qZriI/AAAAAAAABzk/XHtWLWu61EY/s320/mt+rushmore+profile+blog.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The "Profile View" of Mount Rushmore.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-q4cC85r6-oE/Ub6MFwG75vI/AAAAAAAABy8/2k_a-490fDI/s1600/mt+rushmore+view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-q4cC85r6-oE/Ub6MFwG75vI/AAAAAAAABy8/2k_a-490fDI/s320/mt+rushmore+view.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of many views of Mount Rushmore as seen from Iron Mountain Road.</td></tr>
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Residency training starts a week from tomorrow. Not every
day is perfect. Sometimes we still feel horrendously isolated. Sometimes I
doubt, and sometimes I wonder. Some days I would like to wake up and have the
plan in front of me; to have that moment when I see clearly that this is, in
fact, the place where we are supposed to be. But I know, from experience, that
while the knowledge will probably come, it probably won’t happen in one day.
Instead, in three years, when we set out yet again on another adventure, I’m
sure I will be able to look back and say: <i>Thank you, Heavenly Father, you knew
better than I did.</i></div>
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The Nielson Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917968743964483585noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6559087865460242563.post-2994212699043130642013-01-18T22:40:00.000-07:002013-01-24T22:40:58.271-07:00Talmage's Caterpillar party/ 1st birthday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I used grapes instead, mainly because I didn't want to waste my money on something many won't eat.<br /></div>
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Talmage feeding himself grapes. Talmage was making McKay very upset about eating the grapes. McKay was not a happy camper for the party. He fell asleep right before the party on the floor, when he woke up there were a bunch of people at the house and he doesn't do well when he has late naps.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PZUNuY19xxU/UQIUzOwVO8I/AAAAAAAABxo/3DQv8OvtR8M/s1600/Caterpillar+party%239.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="190" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PZUNuY19xxU/UQIUzOwVO8I/AAAAAAAABxo/3DQv8OvtR8M/s320/Caterpillar+party%239.jpg" width="320" /></a><br /></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ctsIdvtcIUw/UQIUeTsl5uI/AAAAAAAABvU/6JNWCIg9IVs/s1600/Caterpillar+party%2311a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ctsIdvtcIUw/UQIUeTsl5uI/AAAAAAAABvU/6JNWCIg9IVs/s320/Caterpillar+party%2311a.jpg" width="179" /></a><br />This isn't the cutest picture of Tallie, but it's a good picture of his shirt I made him. He also had a lot grapes in his mouth.</div>
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Michael spent a long time on Talmage's cake, he made it from scratch and tried a new recipe for the frosting. I think it turned out great! It was great having his help, couldn't of done it with out him!</div>
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Now that is cake!</div>
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Wait this is all I get!</div>
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Talmage got lots of fun stuff for his birthday: New clothes, a cape, some puzzles and books.<br /><br />I'll have to post the gift bag, don't have any pictures of it. We did some activities too.<br /><br />This a a great theme to do right after the Christmas, because a lot of the stuff is red and green. I hit the clearance racks after Christmas, it worked out great.<br /><br />I got some of my ideas from other blogs and some stuff from my head. I'll post later some of the blogs I used to print stuff from.The Nielson Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917968743964483585noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6559087865460242563.post-42820740312680626942012-12-28T20:40:00.000-07:002013-01-24T20:47:26.712-07:00Talamge's Pre-party<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We celebrated Talamge's birthday with family while we were in Blanding for Christmas.<br /><br /><br /><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npvvqvY2jA0/UQH9XtjeLMI/AAAAAAAABt8/5fsjD68AgIE/s320/Talmages+birthday+party%231.jpg" width="214" /> </div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pGuDe8F4q1E/UQH9ZN4uh-I/AAAAAAAABuI/n5M1lliR8Rg/s1600/Talmages+birthday+party%233.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="246" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pGuDe8F4q1E/UQH9ZN4uh-I/AAAAAAAABuI/n5M1lliR8Rg/s320/Talmages+birthday+party%233.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />We also celebrated his cousin's birthday too.<br />I love Talmage's face, he thinks he got jipped!<br /><br /></div>
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Talmage's penny train! With 365 pennies all in his birth year 2012.<br />
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<br />The Nielson Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917968743964483585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6559087865460242563.post-44078190482980735982012-11-01T21:08:00.001-07:002012-11-01T21:08:31.004-07:00Lost!<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I got lost last week. I don’t mean way-laid,
took-the-long-way-around stuff. I mean the kind of lost that rarely exists in a
world filled with GPS turn-by-turn and smart phones. I mean I got LOST.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was in Pittsburgh with a few hours to kill, so I thought I
venture into the city to see a few sights and grab lunch at this well-known hot
dog stand in downtown. After taking the long-way-around to see what I wanted to
see, I headed toward the hot dog stand with my trusty hand-written directions,
faithfully obtained from Google Maps before I left the hotel’s WiFi bubble. I
found the stand. Fairly easily, actually. But I had left out one important
step: parking. I drove past the stand, remembering that I had seen a sign for a
parking garage a few lights back.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GH7WUgSvZaQ/UJNGL2PEtOI/AAAAAAAABso/da7t4_fbw9U/s1600/DSCN0913.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GH7WUgSvZaQ/UJNGL2PEtOI/AAAAAAAABso/da7t4_fbw9U/s320/DSCN0913.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The only picture of Pittsburgh I managed to take, between a dead camera battery and<br />being hopelessly, hopelessly lost. This is taken from the West End Overlook.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is where things began to slip. I had come in on a
one-way road, so a U-turn would have been a bad idea. It seemed that two right
turns would take me back toward the garage. I drove past another parking
garage, thinking the first one would be a little closer. And then kept driving
– now somewhat confused. I wound around downtown neighborhoods for awhile,
having no idea why I could not find my way back to the garage, or even the
street I had come in on. Finally, I did manage to make my way back to the
freeway, but I was fairly sure I needed to go west, and I there was only an
east-bound on-ramp. No problem, right? Make a U-turn at the next exit and head
back west. Easy. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now, I am still trying to process everything that happened
next. I took the next exit. Just as I got off, I saw a swarm of red and blue
lights coming toward me. Behind them, a seemingly endless line of diesel
trucks, all blaring their horns. I rolled down my window, unsure how to proceed,
and heard an announcement from somewhere saying something about a Big Rig
Motorcade welcoming home athletes from the Special Olympics. I had pulled over
by this point, but soon realized that one of the officers was shouting at me to
keep moving, so I did. The road in front of me was clear, but I wanted to turn
around. The trucks were still coming, so I kept driving. Somehow, I ended up in
a neighborhood with narrow, U-turn-unfriendly streets, so again, I kept
driving. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Finally, I found a spot to make a quick turn-around. Only
things looked different on my way out. I came to an intersection that seemed
familiar and attempted to head in what I thought was the correct direction –
only to end up in the middle of a funeral procession.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am not making this up.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I continued with the procession until I felt I could
reasonably slip away, only to end up in another of those narrow-streeted
neighborhoods. I tried my best to backtrack, finally finding my way back out to
what seemed to be a major street. Still, it didn’t look very familiar. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is here that I think I made my largest mistake. The
winding, narrow streets, thick trees and rolling hills had all combined to
force my natural sense of direction into something of a tailspin. You see, it
seemed logical to head west, so I did. Or, I thought did. I drove along the
banks of one of Pittsburgh’s many rivers for some time, winding in and out of
railroad tracks along the way before coming to a bridge. I felt like I needed
to cross the river, so I took the bridge and again headed in the direction I
believed was west. I knew I would hit the freeway soon. Yep, anytime now. I am
sure it is just around that next corner. Uh-huh, just over that hill.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nope.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I did just what every man would do. I kept driving. At some
point, I checked the rearview mirror in my rental car, noticing for the first
time that it had a digital compass there in the lower right corner. It said SE,
which I thought was strange, seeing how I was driving straight west.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Still no freeway. More yellow and orange trees. Occasional
businesses, but not much else going on along this stretch of road. Mirror still
said SE. And, then, there it was. No, not the freeway. A road sign. A road sign that said the road I was on was Southbound PA-885.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Southbound?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Next one said the same thing. Mirror display read S. The
evidence had become overwhelming. I was lost. And, for maybe the first time in
my adult life, I didn’t even have a hypothesis on what to do next. Should I try
to back track? Find a McDonald’s and use WiFi (but then I’d have to find a
McDonald’s)? Reorient myself using the rental car’s built-in compass and try to
head west again?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then, randomly, I
remembered that the rental car agent had stuck a paper map of the Pittsburgh
area with my receipt. Did you know they still print paper maps?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I stopped in the next parking lot – a Taco Bell. I found
PA-885 on the map. I was not even close to… well, anything. I managed to plan a
new route using the map. It was late enough now that I knew it was straight
back to the airport – without lunch. I had seen the sights of Pittsburgh,
though certainly not the ones I had planned to see!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There are many, many analogies to draw from this experience.
I cannot ever remember being so physically lost, but I haven’t always been able
to clearly see the path temporally or spiritually. There have been many maps in
my life, most of which, like the paper map from this experience, have been in
my possession for the entire time, but certainly not remembered or used
correctly.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You may, if you like, insert your own parable here. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<iframe frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://www.mapquest.com/embed?hk=Pqge29" style="height: 270px; width: 450px;"></iframe></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">I included this map for your viewing pleasure. "A" is the restaurant I was trying to find. "B" is the Taco Bell parking lot where I finally stopped to grab the map. Please note, the "Suggested Route" highlighted in blue IS NOT the route I took between the two locations. I'm not sure I could even figure out my actual route. </span></div>
The Nielson Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917968743964483585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6559087865460242563.post-1402622891195422912012-09-16T17:35:00.000-07:002012-09-16T17:35:42.561-07:00This Week's Lesson: Be Prepared for Anything!<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is mostly for my own selfish journaling. You are all
welcome to read, though I don’t know if everyone will find it interesting. It
may not be great reading for the faint of heart. And forgive me for committing
the blog-o-sphere faux pas of publishing a post this long without a single
picture. Nothing seemed appropriate. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you ever want to remember how small and inadequate you are,
stand in a room where someone’s life is on shaky ground, and realize you have
absolutely no idea what to do. This happened to me TWICE in the last week. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The first time was early Tuesday morning, in the final few
hours of a 24 hours shift. I happened to be standing next to the intern when
his phone rang. “Yes, I’ll be right there. … I ‘ll call her immediately.” I
followed as he headed down the hall as a brisk pace, while calling the senior
resident, who happened to meet us on the way, so that we all entered the room
together. There lay a woman. Well, she was lying, technically speaking, but
there was nothing still or relaxing about the scene. The woman was writhing in
the bed, screaming out frequently while her mother tried to comfort her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The senior resident approached the bed to attempt to
question the patient, but almost immediately the woman called out “My water! I
think my water broke!” It was clear she was right, as there was now a puddle of
fluid joining her on the bed. The senior resident grabbed a glove and assumed
the position for a cervical check. The woman nearly came off the bed and slung
some colorful language toward the resident, who simply said: “That is not a
head. That is not a head! We are going
to the OR!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She stood up, but before she could remove her gloves, the
woman called out that she had to push, and it was clear that despite everyone’s
protests, she was going to do so. The resident went right back to work, and
soon we could all see two little feet. Then hips and pelvis. Then abdomen and
torso. And then it was as if time stopped, and the baby did, too. The body
stayed there, supported by the resident, but the head did not want to descend.
We all waited in silence while the resident continued to work, verbally trying
to remember how to help a “footling breech” finish the delivery process. After
what seemed like an eternity, she cleared a posterior arm and was able to guide
the head through the remainder of the journey.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Intensive Care Nursery team was standing by, going
immediately to work on this poor little body, born six weeks too soon. The room
remained quiet, save the woman’s cries, until the baby followed his mother’s
example and made a few sputtering cries of his own. After a brief stop to see
his mother, he was whisked away to the ICN (known more commonly as the NICU)
where he began his recovery. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Throughout the experience, I stood with empty hands at the
end of the bed. Nurses rushed in and rushed out, each seemingly knowing exactly
what they could do to help. I knew nothing. The world seemed to be spinning
without me – independently of me. A thick frustration assailed me, as I felt
myself a powerless observer. I wanted to help. I couldn’t help. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We compared times following the experience, and found the
call was placed to the resident’s phone at 5:25 a.m. and the time of delivery
was 5:35 a.m. Ten minutes. It all happened in ten minutes. Ten very long
minutes that I will not soon forget. Mom has been released from the hospital,
and baby has done well as well.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The second experience developed more slowly, but ended
nearly as quickly. This baby was at term, but was also known to be lined up “breech.”
Mother was scheduled to report to the labor and delivery unit for an “external
version.” This is where the doctor attempts to push the baby into the proper
position in order to allow the mother to deliver normally. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Unfortunately, on the morning of the scheduled version, she,
too, felt a gush of fluid. A visit to “OB Triage” confirmed that she had lost
her amniotic fluid. A quick ultrasound showed the baby was still breech. This
complicated things. External version is less successful without fluid. The
mother expressed a desire to avoid cesarean delivery if possible, and we conferred
with the attending physician. After some lengthy discussion, he decided to try
attempt the version despite the loss of fluid, but encouraged her to get an
epidural prior to the procedure, because it could be quite painful. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After the epidural took effect, we entered her room (which
happened to be the same room as the previous story) to attempt the version. I
don’t think anyone had high expectations, though the attending said “50/50.”
After 10 or 20 minutes of pushing on her stomach, he did succeed in getting the
baby head down, though he could not quite get the baby to line up in the pelvis
just right. After more discussion, we decided to get a small dose, what is
slangly referred to as a “whiff”, of pitocin to firm up the uterus in the hope
of helping the little one finish his descent onto the cervix and prepare for
delivery.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We took leave from the room and went to watch the monitor
for contraction pattern and to monitor the baby’s heart rate. It took some time
before the contraction pattern seemed acceptable, and the attending returned to
the room to assess the situation. He came out grinning, saying he had checked
by ultrasound and the baby was now properly positioned. The resident, somewhat
unbelieving, and I then went into the room, assigned with the task of verifying
fetal position and performing a cervical exam to assess dilation as we prepared
for her labor stage. Turned out the baby seemed to be in the proper position.
The resident gloved up and began to perform the cervical check, and as he did
so, the baby’s heart rate took a nauseating dive. The nurse, standing in front
of the monitor, said, somewhat lightheartedly, “There is no cord, right?” To
which the resident responded: “No, there is no cord. Oh, wait. I have cord.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Once again, I found myself at the foot of the bed, moving in
slow motion while the rest of the world seemed to be in fast forward. “Having
cord” as he had stated meant that the umbilical cord has prolapsed, or beaten
the head to the cervix. This is an emergency. If the baby’s head descends and
compresses the cord, the baby will not get the blood and oxygen it needs. In a
body so small, even relatively short periods without oxygen can cause very
serious consequences, and mortality rates from this condition are very high. I
had been taught previously, more than once, that “if you feel cord, do not move
your hand.” It then becomes your job to try to hold back the head and protect
the cord while the mother is prepared for cesarean delivery. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So there we were, the resident awkwardly half sitting, half
lying at the end of the bed, trying desperately to “protect the cord” while we
rolled the patient straight back to the OR. It takes time for the level of
epidural to reach “surgical levels” and time was not in our favor. The baby’s
heart rate fell to critical levels when we entered the OR, and the doctor
prepped the patient and made his first incision before the anesthesia was
sufficient. She cried out, and the anesthesiologist made the decision to put
her completely to sleep. In minutes, the baby was out, a girl, looking
relatively pink (which is good) and with a heart rate, but making no efforts to
breathe on her own. She was intubated and taken to the ICN (NICU), where she
stabilized and began supporting her own respiration. Mother did well, as good
as could be expected post-operatively.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That same, overwhelming feeling of helplessness accompanied me
through this experience as well. Both have served to motivate me to avoid a
similar feeling in the future, which will require diligence in studying and in
training – though I hope to not face many similar situations in the future!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For this rotation, I am on the labor and delivery unit full time.
There have been many lessons, like those mentioned here already. But one stands
in stunning clarity, above all others. When working with obstetric patients,
those pregnant and nearing delivery, you cannot expect anything. Complications
arise in the most routine deliveries, and others that seem to be headed in the
wrong direction work themselves out regardless of what you do. The best you can
do is be prepared for anything. Literally, anything.</div>
The Nielson Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917968743964483585noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6559087865460242563.post-13016372430838948582012-08-26T13:05:00.001-07:002012-08-26T13:05:29.185-07:00Miracles are everywhere to be found<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
It has
now been 22 days since I hugged my children, kissed my wife and boarded an
airplane to Indiana. This is the fourth Sunday I have not had to carry a child
out of Sacrament Meeting or whisper threatenings about not going to “nursery
class.” And, it is incredibly hard to describe how badly I miss it. Yes. That
is right. I miss carrying my children out of Sacrament Meeting. Of course, I
just miss carrying my children in general.</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.lds.org/bc/content/shared/content/images/leaders/thomas-s-monson-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="By President Thomas S. Monson" border="0" height="200" src="http://www.lds.org/bc/content/shared/content/images/leaders/thomas-s-monson-10.jpg" width="160" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">President Thomas S. Monson</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today in our priesthood meeting, we discussed <a href="http://www.lds.org/general-conference/2012/04/willing-and-worthy-to-serve?lang=eng&media=video" target="_blank">President Monson’s talk</a> from the priesthood session of April’s conference. The talk generally is about being worthy and prepared to serve as opportunities arise. In the talk, President Monson shares a brief story about two soldiers from World War 2. One soldier uses the priesthood to command the second to “remain alive until I can get medical help.” Both soldiers survive to get medical attention. President Monson then states: “Miracles are everywhere to be found…”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That
phrase served to prick me in the heart. It replayed over and over again in my
head. You see, this has been a summer of miracles for me. Truly. I immediately
had the desire to write down some of the great blessings that had been afforded
to my family and me. I just don't want to forget.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><u>First</u></b>:
Recently, an orange “AT” light appeared on the console of our Mazda5. I tried
to ignore it for a while. Then I checked the transmission fluid level and
topped it off, hoping that would be significant. No change. The
longer it went, the more “symptomatic” the van became, shifting hard or at
inappropriate times, and just generally not performing well. I finally gave in,
found the time and took it to the dealership. I was told the transmission had
failed, completely. The van was not even safe enough for me to drive home.</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://onsurga.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/08/Mazda-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Mazda 5" border="0" height="150" src="http://onsurga.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/08/Mazda-5.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Mazda5 very similar to ours.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When all was said and done, it took 8 days to complete the repairs, with the total bill coming to more than $3,100. Where is the miracle? When we bought the van almost three years ago, I struggled within myself before deciding to buy a $1,200 after-market extended warranty. Our total out-of-pocket expense at the time of repair? $256. And that INCLUDED the cost of a rental car we used while the repairs were completed.<br /> I think this story will really stick with me for a while, but for an entirely different reason. At the time, I was rotating at the VA hospital in Phoenix. My attending physician was a self-described atheist who explained his views in this way: “Go as far left as you can, then go a little further, then turn to your left, and you may see me off in the distance.” I related the story about our van to him one day. He, knowing my religious background, responded, “Don’t you dare say it. Don’t you dare say God let the Nazis kill Jews and allowed slavery, but he reached down and fixed your van."</div>
<div>
<span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"> I </span><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">didn't</span><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"> say it. But I thought it. I can’t explain why there are so many tragedies in our world. I don’t know why people suffer. I still don’t know why our second son left this life before we got to look into his eyes. But I still know that God knows us personally, and he has never stopped caring. Even about the little things.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"> <b><u>Second</u></b>: I took my Level 2 Comlex
this summer. That is second of three tests I have to pass before becoming a
fully licensed doctor. I have to pass this test in order to graduate from
medical school, and my score is an important part of my residency application,
which will determine where I continue my training after I graduate. I put forth
a diligent study effort, but I was not feeling very confident the night before
the exam. We were staying with Christina’s family and I was trying to ward off
a full-fledged panic attack when Christina’s mom, Larna, sat down next to me. “This
is an important test for you, isn’t it?” she said, somewhat more timidly than I
expect from her. I assured her it was. She then bore something of a simple
testimony, and told me that there were tools available to help me and that Rob,
Christina’s dad, was willing to give me a priesthood blessing. I accepted.</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6F1wPy9t-Oc/UDp56SA6wbI/AAAAAAAABsE/QlZlG9jXfmM/s1600/Rob+%2526+Larna+%25231.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="166" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6F1wPy9t-Oc/UDp56SA6wbI/AAAAAAAABsE/QlZlG9jXfmM/s200/Rob+%2526+Larna+%25231.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rob and Larna Meier</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"> Rob, who is the bishop of his ward,
laid his hands on my head, and I still remember very clearly some of things he
said. He said the Lord was aware of the efforts I had made, and that I had
fulfilled my obligations both related to school and outside of school. Then he
said something that I don’t expect to ever forget. “You have done your part,
but you need to quit trying to rely on yourself and allow the Lord to help you.”
In some ways, this was a mild rebuke, but mostly, it was a very important
lesson that I do not think could have come from information Rob had, but that
the Lord clearly did. I slept well that night.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"> The test turned into a month-long
ordeal, as my 8-hour test crashed just over 4 hours in, and I was forced to reschedule
the second half in mid-July. I have absolutely no idea why the test crashed
immediately following the lesson I had learned. It was a surprisingly emotional
experience. But whether the crash was part of the plan or just coincidence
matters little to me. What I do know is that during both of the test sessions, the
words from that blessing resonated within me, and I tried to relinquish control
and allow the Lord to help me. I received my score last week. It was an
eye-popping number that significantly trumped my Level 1 and is undoubtedly higher
than I could have accomplished on my own.</span></div>
<div>
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<br /></div>
</div>
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<span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"> <b><u>Third</u></b>: I flew into Indiana without
any transportation. I did not know how I would get from home to hospital to
hospital and back. My initial plan was to get a bike, and mix that with bus transport as
needed. However, it was clear the first day that the roads I needed to travel to
the hospitals were far too busy for me to feel comfortable on a bike. There
were no sidewalks or bike lanes, and through large portions of road, there was
not even a shoulder. I would have to walk over a busy freeway on/off ramp with
no sidewalks to even get to a bus stop, which made the bus stop feel like it
was a million miles away. I rented a car when I first arrived, to help me get
settled in, but it was clear I could not afford to keep the car a week, let
alone a month. I felt somewhat trapped, and spent some time on my knees,
praying for a solution.</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-F_kUfmcjPgI/UDp8GelNlQI/AAAAAAAABsQ/hWOZKrKsNd4/s1600/Pepplepickup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-F_kUfmcjPgI/UDp8GelNlQI/AAAAAAAABsQ/hWOZKrKsNd4/s200/Pepplepickup.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> The 2003 Dodge Dakota that<br />Dr. Pepple graciously let me borrow. </td></tr>
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<span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"> During my first day, I was
questioning some of the residents about travel options. One of the attending
physicians overheard. He asked me to speak with him before I left that day. It
turned out that he had an extra car sitting at home, and he didn't like it to
sit too long in his driveway (because the squirrels think it makes a nice
home). He asked if I would be interested in driving during my time in Fort
Wayne. Of course I was interested. I had known this man for less than three hours at this
point. There was no contract. No negotiation. He looked me in the eyes and told
me to use it for whatever I needed it for, for however long I needed it, and
then to bring it back. I shook his hand and knew in my heart, again, that the
Lord watched over me. He knows my needs, even the little ones, and he had
directly and distinctly answered my prayers (and those of my family).</span></div>
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<span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"> If you are still with me,
congratulations! </span><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">You have read more than
three pages and 1,300 words. I hope you found it worth your time. I did. I am
grateful for the innumerable blessings I have received. I am grateful for the
power of prayer, and the power of the priesthood. I know that this summer is
probably no more special than any other, but right now all I can think about is
the blessings that have fallen like rain in the past few months.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"> Well, all the blessings I have been
given, and the fact that I will be back with my beautiful wife and amazing
children in four days. I may even be able to carry one of them out of Sacrament
Meeting next week. Thursday can’t get here fast enough!</span></div>
The Nielson Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917968743964483585noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6559087865460242563.post-44574353393791516772012-06-17T22:42:00.001-07:002012-06-17T22:42:19.698-07:00Rambo<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pIGpC-RtBLA/T96_Shrc2ZI/AAAAAAAABr4/_1fNr5n1HzY/s1600/Rambo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pIGpC-RtBLA/T96_Shrc2ZI/AAAAAAAABr4/_1fNr5n1HzY/s320/Rambo.jpg" width="154" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SCiRYyy_AQA/T96_PJBXqBI/AAAAAAAABrw/mKepInGrDNc/s1600/Rambo%232.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SCiRYyy_AQA/T96_PJBXqBI/AAAAAAAABrw/mKepInGrDNc/s320/Rambo%232.jpg" width="138" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>The Nielson Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917968743964483585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6559087865460242563.post-51435305071658409972012-06-15T22:28:00.000-07:002012-06-17T22:29:58.396-07:00Talmage's surgery<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Talmage had to have a <span style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">dermoid cyst removed from his right eyebrow. <br />Nothing left now except for a little bitty cut.</span> He has been really good all day.</span><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6qyprK0AVTA/T966hCj48hI/AAAAAAAABrA/JZVTRKNODXw/s1600/DSCN0612.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6qyprK0AVTA/T966hCj48hI/AAAAAAAABrA/JZVTRKNODXw/s320/DSCN0612.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Talmage before surgery in his purple hospital gown.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lfHUACLceVc/T966ptOkB4I/AAAAAAAABrI/va2UEbIu3As/s1600/DSCN0613.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lfHUACLceVc/T966ptOkB4I/AAAAAAAABrI/va2UEbIu3As/s320/DSCN0613.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Talmage was pretty good, he didn't cry much. He looks like a girl.</td></tr>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rS6yCdxxR6k/T966yinfesI/AAAAAAAABrU/_nxJXXBj8Bc/s1600/DSCN0614.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rS6yCdxxR6k/T966yinfesI/AAAAAAAABrU/_nxJXXBj8Bc/s320/DSCN0614.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<br /><br />The Nielson Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917968743964483585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6559087865460242563.post-67178962610924338922012-05-30T14:30:00.005-07:002012-05-30T14:30:44.785-07:00Chalkboard Suitcase<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Fehv-hbZKuY/T8aQ5dc1soI/AAAAAAAABjo/pK6U6BZvvvw/s1600/chalk+board+suitcase%231+blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="305" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Fehv-hbZKuY/T8aQ5dc1soI/AAAAAAAABjo/pK6U6BZvvvw/s320/chalk+board+suitcase%231+blog.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PBY338DfsOI/T8aQ-8kimQI/AAAAAAAABj4/vVDMsjfO-tI/s1600/chalk+board+suitcase%233+blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PBY338DfsOI/T8aQ-8kimQI/AAAAAAAABj4/vVDMsjfO-tI/s320/chalk+board+suitcase%233+blog.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>
<br />The Nielson Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917968743964483585noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6559087865460242563.post-65575529595854382542012-05-22T20:42:00.000-07:002012-05-30T20:43:00.541-07:00Need I say more..<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IKFuljU6wng/T8boXVDTUGI/AAAAAAAABmk/NN2xIyLdkgY/s1600/Talmage+%231.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="272" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IKFuljU6wng/T8boXVDTUGI/AAAAAAAABmk/NN2xIyLdkgY/s320/Talmage+%231.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
I think Talmage's face says it all. "What are you doing in my bed?" Yes, McKay what are you doing?The Nielson Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917968743964483585noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6559087865460242563.post-83366743739595529012012-05-15T18:04:00.000-07:002012-05-30T21:03:03.289-07:00McKay's Pirate Party May 14<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Z-EcRLXNHAM/T8bEzhUEm1I/AAAAAAAABlo/LsiVFMfeGnQ/s1600/Pirate+Party%231.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Z-EcRLXNHAM/T8bEzhUEm1I/AAAAAAAABlo/LsiVFMfeGnQ/s320/Pirate+Party%231.jpg" width="299" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We celebrated McKay's birthday a few months early. Mainly because come July most of his friends he has made over his 2 1/2 year of life are moving.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DSwh6tt-WDQ/T8bE1ch1FEI/AAAAAAAABlw/DJwjJjwuFX0/s1600/Pirate+Party%231a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="160" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DSwh6tt-WDQ/T8bE1ch1FEI/AAAAAAAABlw/DJwjJjwuFX0/s320/Pirate+Party%231a.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We had pirate stew, pirate bread, sea weed salad, dried apples, beef jerky, Sauerkraut, olives, and oranges ( to prevent scurvy of course.)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6LBciV1vw8g/T8bE35ipGcI/AAAAAAAABl4/NRiX5j1oid8/s1600/Pirate+Party%232.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6LBciV1vw8g/T8bE35ipGcI/AAAAAAAABl4/NRiX5j1oid8/s320/Pirate+Party%232.jpg" width="286" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Root beer</td></tr>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9mY3kKz--44/T8bE6GXfKKI/AAAAAAAABmA/DuF3IjrDwGs/s1600/Pirate+Party%233.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9mY3kKz--44/T8bE6GXfKKI/AAAAAAAABmA/DuF3IjrDwGs/s320/Pirate+Party%233.jpg" width="269" /></a></div>
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Captain Hook came.</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W40BQiP1XVU/T8bE-AOJfhI/AAAAAAAABmY/zWyiTvjiPT0/s1600/Pirate+Party%236.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W40BQiP1XVU/T8bE-AOJfhI/AAAAAAAABmY/zWyiTvjiPT0/s320/Pirate+Party%236.jpg" width="204" /></a></div>
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We made pirate swords and pirate hats.</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ioDXl-ke4xg/T8bE79srCVI/AAAAAAAABmI/eiymK5DsV7I/s1600/Pirate+Party%234.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ioDXl-ke4xg/T8bE79srCVI/AAAAAAAABmI/eiymK5DsV7I/s320/Pirate+Party%234.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-O05v9nFtB6k/T8bE87rapII/AAAAAAAABmQ/lJTxFLG1bbo/s1600/Pirate+Party%235.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="163" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-O05v9nFtB6k/T8bE87rapII/AAAAAAAABmQ/lJTxFLG1bbo/s320/Pirate+Party%235.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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By the end of the night McKay was dubbed Captain Grumpy. He was one tired boy, he really shouldn't have because he took a 3 hour nap that day. He has never done that!
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eRpmlv9q26s/T8bELDLSGMI/AAAAAAAABlQ/rLbDIjurduI/s1600/Pirate+Party%237.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eRpmlv9q26s/T8bELDLSGMI/AAAAAAAABlQ/rLbDIjurduI/s320/Pirate+Party%237.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9oZQmLGlaPE/T8bENQkOjuI/AAAAAAAABlY/4eRrJUO66ks/s1600/Pirate+Party%238.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="310" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9oZQmLGlaPE/T8bENQkOjuI/AAAAAAAABlY/4eRrJUO66ks/s320/Pirate+Party%238.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kHJeaFr21uA/T8bD5VY69JI/AAAAAAAABkM/3B0AnRg6gLU/s1600/Pirate+Party%2310.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kHJeaFr21uA/T8bD5VY69JI/AAAAAAAABkM/3B0AnRg6gLU/s320/Pirate+Party%2310.jpg" width="284" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qz_PAA6-TSQ/T8bEPq9wnvI/AAAAAAAABlg/0zfJsU_fyN8/s1600/Pirate+Party%239.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qz_PAA6-TSQ/T8bEPq9wnvI/AAAAAAAABlg/0zfJsU_fyN8/s320/Pirate+Party%239.jpg" width="298" /></a></div>
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The Cake. So my cake didn't turn out. My frosting melted, I guess that is what happens when you can't get your house cooler then 81 degrees. Also I was trying to frost a cake with one hand. Holding a baby while defending the cake from a toddler. Michael did finally make it home for work to help me, I was very grateful for his help!<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cRtsKeZLzIM/T8bD-LdFO9I/AAAAAAAABkU/dC1iVTfWBpQ/s1600/Pirate+Party%2311.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="246" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cRtsKeZLzIM/T8bD-LdFO9I/AAAAAAAABkU/dC1iVTfWBpQ/s320/Pirate+Party%2311.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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We opened gifts. McKay got some great toys and cute summer clothes!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ES9Qgn273wo/T8bEEpPtipI/AAAAAAAABks/io3dDmDXUGA/s1600/Pirate+Party%2314.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ES9Qgn273wo/T8bEEpPtipI/AAAAAAAABks/io3dDmDXUGA/s320/Pirate+Party%2314.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sariah, Ethan, Eli, Eve, and McKay</td></tr>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tDDi5uD7TLI/T8bEA0DDLfI/AAAAAAAABkc/H-DdbI_KQF4/s1600/Pirate+Party%2312.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tDDi5uD7TLI/T8bEA0DDLfI/AAAAAAAABkc/H-DdbI_KQF4/s320/Pirate+Party%2312.jpg" width="298" /></a></div>
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6n0kAP7EbqY/T8bEDdVlc1I/AAAAAAAABkk/s5LWqEehDUg/s1600/Pirate+Party%2313.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="260" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6n0kAP7EbqY/T8bEDdVlc1I/AAAAAAAABkk/s5LWqEehDUg/s320/Pirate+Party%2313.jpg" width="320" /></a> We tried taking pictures of everyone. Most of the pictures didn't turn out, so sad. I can only blame myself. I forgot to charge my Nikon. So I was left with just my point-n-shoot.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5USt8ZMEO4s/T8bDznKB9hI/AAAAAAAABkE/RmWh9SM4Qjo/s1600/Pirate+Party%2318.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="311" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5USt8ZMEO4s/T8bDznKB9hI/AAAAAAAABkE/RmWh9SM4Qjo/s320/Pirate+Party%2318.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The littlest pirate at 4 weeks old.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The most confused pirate at 3 months old.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ethan Sporting the pirate look. His picture was the only one that really came out. :(</td></tr>
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<br />The Nielson Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917968743964483585noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6559087865460242563.post-17957347801703414002012-05-13T20:47:00.000-07:002012-05-30T20:50:36.317-07:00Mother's day breakfast<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Michael made me a lovely breakfast with blueberry muffins, blackberries, strawberries and a hard boiled egg. He really surprised me, I didn't think he had gotten me anything and I wasn't really expecting anything. He got a me a really nice framed picture of Christ and a board book from the boys.The Nielson Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917968743964483585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6559087865460242563.post-80289613918640137932012-04-12T22:10:00.002-07:002012-04-12T22:13:47.224-07:00Blogging....<span ><span style="font-size: 100%;">I was going to blog tonight and play catch-up for the last six months, but tonight is not the night. I'm not in the mood. Today was an ok day. Michael is off playing doctor tonight, the kids are in bed but I'm just not </span>feeling<span style="font-size: 100%;"> so great. So at least I tried!</span></span>The Nielson Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917968743964483585noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6559087865460242563.post-34958561081757304072012-03-11T21:51:00.000-07:002012-06-03T16:52:34.071-07:00Talmage's Baby Blessing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
We blessed Talmage up in Salt Lake.</div>
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It was fun to have almost everyone their, unfortunately Christina's sister ( Kathryn) and her family couldn't make it, because they live back East and Josh's family decided not to come.</div>
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Kind of a funny picture of Michael but we didn't have many picture of Talmage.<br />
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Not sure where McKay was.<br />
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Cousin Colton holding Talmage. Talmage was not to sure about all this.<br />
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McKay over seeing this holding.The Nielson Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917968743964483585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6559087865460242563.post-20000301883231280002012-03-01T22:02:00.000-07:002012-05-30T22:03:36.400-07:00Talmage and McKay in Blanding<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Talmage doesn't know what to think about McKay.</div>
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McKay has been really cute with Talmage.The Nielson Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917968743964483585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6559087865460242563.post-17659690283795109632012-02-22T22:14:00.000-07:002012-05-30T22:21:40.874-07:00Cast Be Gone<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">McKay only cried a little bit.</td></tr>
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After McKay got his cast cut off, he had to get an x-ray. If you had told me that it would take more then 25 minutes to convince this child to put his arm on the table to get his arm x-rayed, I wouldn't have believed you. It was horrible. Talmage was screaming, McKay was crying, I was there with no help. Not fun.<br />
So glad to see that thing gone. Having a 2 1/2 year old boy in a cast is not fun. I was so happy to be able to bathe this kid. I scrubbed his arm when we got home.The Nielson Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917968743964483585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6559087865460242563.post-3730912152786418112012-02-11T22:41:00.000-07:002012-05-30T22:46:22.000-07:00Dolly<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />The Nielson Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917968743964483585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6559087865460242563.post-23926440558178283222011-10-06T22:46:00.005-07:002011-10-08T17:34:48.451-07:00Glass cutting<div style="text-align: center;">Ok so I saw this project and thought it looked cool to do.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jaq5U15Zjfw/To-5sixP9UI/AAAAAAAABd0/0HPPXjLE_UI/s1600/1%2523%2BGlass%2Bcutting%2B.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 209px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jaq5U15Zjfw/To-5sixP9UI/AAAAAAAABd0/0HPPXjLE_UI/s320/1%2523%2BGlass%2Bcutting%2B.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660947431526757698" /></a>The idea is, you take yarn or string around the bottle and put nail polisher remove on the yarn. Light it on fire for a few seconds and put it in cold water. Equals two pieces! It took us a few tries! But we did do it. Now I just don't know what to do with them. Well I have a few ideas!<div><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SnLrd00ejLw/To-5oNiAobI/AAAAAAAABds/UN6BHVPTwhk/s1600/2%2B%2523%2BGlass%2Bcutting%2B.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SnLrd00ejLw/To-5oNiAobI/AAAAAAAABds/UN6BHVPTwhk/s320/2%2B%2523%2BGlass%2Bcutting%2B.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660947357106217394" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-T9_x4VqjfcY/To-69u0eAJI/AAAAAAAABd8/LV9zGsvqgbc/s320/3%2B%2523%2BGlass%2Bcutting%2B.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660948826330890386" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 304px; height: 320px; " /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vBxDtuWaCag/To-7GeHz1mI/AAAAAAAABeE/ZLOtewzUIbM/s320/4%2B%2523%2BGlass%2Bcutting%2B.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660948976467433058" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 114px; height: 320px; " /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></span></div></div>The Nielson Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917968743964483585noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6559087865460242563.post-82554489648971391272011-10-03T20:02:00.013-07:002011-10-07T20:21:17.295-07:00Shower Paint<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-37vUT2e74tU/To_A2ty__MI/AAAAAAAABfc/7tNcZrtLw74/s1600/1%2523%2BShower%2Bpaint.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 186px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-37vUT2e74tU/To_A2ty__MI/AAAAAAAABfc/7tNcZrtLw74/s320/1%2523%2BShower%2Bpaint.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660955302866975938" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KaAQE2Hfgic/To_Ayo_Se9I/AAAAAAAABfU/czD_HzsYT5w/s1600/2%2523%2BShower%2Bpaint.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 204px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KaAQE2Hfgic/To_Ayo_Se9I/AAAAAAAABfU/czD_HzsYT5w/s320/2%2523%2BShower%2Bpaint.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660955232856865746" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jy76PHB9UR8/To_Au3jHyvI/AAAAAAAABfM/ndToM87qul8/s1600/3%2523%2BShower%2Bpaint.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jy76PHB9UR8/To_Au3jHyvI/AAAAAAAABfM/ndToM87qul8/s320/3%2523%2BShower%2Bpaint.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660955168045779698" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZgrEL12zvxs/To_ArYoN8-I/AAAAAAAABfE/ShxGQorpWXU/s1600/4%2523%2BShower%2Bpaint.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 296px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZgrEL12zvxs/To_ArYoN8-I/AAAAAAAABfE/ShxGQorpWXU/s320/4%2523%2BShower%2Bpaint.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660955108206048226" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7wnCMdb8vLE/To_AngCtqkI/AAAAAAAABe8/iyKGFLkcxq0/s1600/5%2523%2BShower%2Bpaint.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 154px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7wnCMdb8vLE/To_AngCtqkI/AAAAAAAABe8/iyKGFLkcxq0/s320/5%2523%2BShower%2Bpaint.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660955041476749890" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">I want to eat it! It looks so pretty and colorful!</div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gyGoHIYguF4/To_AkygQPSI/AAAAAAAABe0/F5XspGngvwU/s1600/6%2523%2BShower%2Bpaint.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 244px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gyGoHIYguF4/To_AkygQPSI/AAAAAAAABe0/F5XspGngvwU/s320/6%2523%2BShower%2Bpaint.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660954994892881186" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Z6tYoEnu0GQ/To_AhLtkCsI/AAAAAAAABes/YxFxHAYdvc0/s1600/7%2523%2BShower%2Bpaint.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Z6tYoEnu0GQ/To_AhLtkCsI/AAAAAAAABes/YxFxHAYdvc0/s320/7%2523%2BShower%2Bpaint.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660954932940114626" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-u4Hwa_8e51U/To_AcROAFMI/AAAAAAAABek/qROBeaB7Nzk/s1600/8%2523%2BShower%2Bpaint.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-u4Hwa_8e51U/To_AcROAFMI/AAAAAAAABek/qROBeaB7Nzk/s320/8%2523%2BShower%2Bpaint.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660954848519001282" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dcIxy2b4J7k/To_AY8JQldI/AAAAAAAABec/NX7QwRH754o/s1600/9%2523%2BShower%2Bpaint.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dcIxy2b4J7k/To_AY8JQldI/AAAAAAAABec/NX7QwRH754o/s320/9%2523%2BShower%2Bpaint.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660954791322359250" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-18bHejhmfBM/To_AVGob6pI/AAAAAAAABeU/smXEteRDvkc/s1600/10%2523%2BShower%2Bpaint.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-18bHejhmfBM/To_AVGob6pI/AAAAAAAABeU/smXEteRDvkc/s320/10%2523%2BShower%2Bpaint.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660954725418003090" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">My little Drama King! </div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3CuZfFaNOuQ/To_ARP0o-0I/AAAAAAAABeM/J6mCJEuxZPU/s1600/11%2523%2BShower%2Bpaint.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3CuZfFaNOuQ/To_ARP0o-0I/AAAAAAAABeM/J6mCJEuxZPU/s320/11%2523%2BShower%2Bpaint.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660954659165633346" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">I think he had a good time!</div>The Nielson Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917968743964483585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6559087865460242563.post-14061833778093272192011-10-01T17:49:00.006-07:002011-10-01T17:53:34.864-07:00Picnic in Suitcase<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5cpFYnH4XuY/Toe1YgNVqLI/AAAAAAAABdk/H_aNOJf8kck/s1600/1%2B%2523%2BPicnic%2Bsuitcase.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 211px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5cpFYnH4XuY/Toe1YgNVqLI/AAAAAAAABdk/H_aNOJf8kck/s320/1%2B%2523%2BPicnic%2Bsuitcase.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658690889381685426" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5xD-suYVb10/Toe1T6swsJI/AAAAAAAABdc/qW9Z4krLvs4/s1600/2%2523%2BPicnic%2Bsuitcase%2B.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 227px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5xD-suYVb10/Toe1T6swsJI/AAAAAAAABdc/qW9Z4krLvs4/s320/2%2523%2BPicnic%2Bsuitcase%2B.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658690810593456274" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GRWoopH0Q8M/Toe1PptqOTI/AAAAAAAABdU/73hqp5wqBrg/s1600/3%2523%2BPicnic%2Bsuitcase%2B.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 192px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GRWoopH0Q8M/Toe1PptqOTI/AAAAAAAABdU/73hqp5wqBrg/s320/3%2523%2BPicnic%2Bsuitcase%2B.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658690737314347314" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8ffvUeH7LhY/Toe1Kf5HNrI/AAAAAAAABdM/KtGz0ZOY0EQ/s1600/4%2523%2BPicnic%2Bsuitcase%2B.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 297px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8ffvUeH7LhY/Toe1Kf5HNrI/AAAAAAAABdM/KtGz0ZOY0EQ/s320/4%2523%2BPicnic%2Bsuitcase%2B.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658690648778684082" /></a>The Nielson Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917968743964483585noreply@blogger.com2