Hey chicas, just wanted to let everyone know that I have purchased my plane ticket to Utah to go to the women's conference and girls nite. Because of our summer family trip to Utah I need to have girls nite be Friday night May 2nd and Saturday May 3rd. Does that work for everyone?
Here's another question for you. At what point do our daughters become eligible?
Cindy
Monday, December 31, 2007
Friday, December 28, 2007
On the 11th day of Christmas, John's doggy gave to me....
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Seven have white tails
Six are boys
Fiiiivvvveeee grunting pups
Four little poops
Three striped noses
Two little girls
And a doghouse in the garage
Pups will be available approxamately
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Christmas in Rexburgia!
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9999999999999999999999999999999 well that is Cali's addition to this post.
Christmas in rexburg was FANTASTIC!!! and I will just agree with everyone being married makes it a million times better than single and wishing. Ok so I'm going to try and put photos throughout the post to make them more spread out. First off there is a TON OF SNOW in Rexburg
This is the view from our back door we even went out and played
As you can see, we had a fantastic time in what was the first snow, unbeknownst that we would have twice as much snow by now.
And and my baby is still looking beautiful, and having her around for Christmas was awesome.
As for Christmas itself it was beautiful, which was nice since we didn't have a ton of money however, Maria made the appt look beautiful, then came the CRAZY meal. and I'm saying this beautiful girl can flat out Cook, probably why i've put on between 10-15 lbs, since june depending on the day.
But it was great First off we have the Turkey, a 17lb-er But we didnt have to eat it all ourselves. Because Sam and Emily were here for the dinner. And games afterwards.
Here Is a picture of the turkey.
And one of me carving the turkey, MY FIRST EVER!!!! woot. (and I have a goatee now, ill explain that in a sec)
And here we have a half mangled bird, good ol times had at the Watson basement appt.
Was very tasty indeed, not to mention we now know that for 4 people, 17 pounds is abit of overkill.
We got great presents, Board games, clothes, and a present for Cali from Maria's parents.
Oh as for the Goatee, last month I grew out my hair to absurd lengths because Maria wanted to see how it looked long, after it got Super BUSHY I got it cut, now she wanted me to grow out my beard to see how it looks, and as I was explaining this to Sam I realized I am Her "Chia-Pet" So much stinking fun. Well that about does it for the Jeremy Watson's were excited for the beach, also loving life and each other. We love you all and wish you the greatest holidays.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
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All I Wanted for Christmas....
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We had a lovely Christmas here in Bahama. The weather was mild, which was good since we needed to throw Josh's new football out on the front lawn in our pajamas. (Good thing Santa brought such good looking new pajamas!) Later Josh and Jason tried out their new lacrosse gear, resulting in a few minutes of worry that Josh had indeed broken Jason's nose. Thankfully it appears to be ok. The girls were thrilled that Santa brought real American Girl dolls and they have not put them down since. Ok--maybe for just a minute...Did I mention that we also got DDR--a huge hit! Here's a little slideshow I made for you guys so you could see our fun.
Greetings, All!
We're getting ready to head out to Margaret's house in a while, but we've been looking at the postings over the past month and it seems like we've missed some of them. (Where is the picture of Amber's blonde wig?? Where are the lyrics to Cindy's Hymn??) Also, what does "LOL" mean? Cindy has used it a few times and we're clueless!
We're excited to see everyone!
Love to all,
DAD and Ramona
We're getting ready to head out to Margaret's house in a while, but we've been looking at the postings over the past month and it seems like we've missed some of them. (Where is the picture of Amber's blonde wig?? Where are the lyrics to Cindy's Hymn??) Also, what does "LOL" mean? Cindy has used it a few times and we're clueless!
We're excited to see everyone!
Love to all,
DAD and Ramona
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
More Christmas from the Paces
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Beautiful Christmas Memories from Ramona
The Christmas I Remember Best
“Roy! Come on home. It’s time to eat!” I stuck my head out the front door and called to my little brother who turned 9 in May of that year. I was two years older and wiser than he, and my mother, who had just returned from a last-minute shopping trip with my oldest sister, had assigned me the task of calling him home for dinner.
It was Christmas Eve, 1959, and all 8 of us children were beside ourselves with excitement. As soon as dinner was over we would gather in the living room for the final chapter of Charles Dickens, “A Christmas Carol”. It was my favorite chapter, and one that I had almost memorized through my father’s many readings of it to us every Christmas Eve for as long as I could remember.
As soon as we all joined in chorus to Tiny Tim’s final words, “God bless us, every one!”, we would all jump up and gather up our gifts to each other that had been waiting under the Christmas tree. We’d carry them carefully to the kitchen where we would place them under the stockings that we hung on a wire strung under the kitchen window.
As I went back in the house and closed the front door, I could hear Roy rattling down the street on the old faded blue contraption that passed for a bicycle that had been in our family for eons. It was the family bike, and the only one we had ever owned, to my recollection. My parents had purchased it second or third hand a dozen years before, and it had passed to each of us children as we reached the age where we could learn to ride the huge thing.
It was a full-sized girl’s bike, without a cross bar, and was being held together with chewing gum and baling wire. It had been painted umpteen times during its lifetime, and the seat and wheels and tires and chain and fenders had been replaced so many times that there was probably not a single part that was original to the bike. But it had served us well over the years.
For the past couple of years Roy had let it be known that he wanted a new bike for Christmas. But that’s something every one of us had asked for through the years, and we all knew it would never happen. Though Santa visited us every year and “dumped his bag in our living room”, we knew that our parents had to pay Santa for everything he brought, and somehow there was never quite enough money for a new bike.
This Christmas that was especially true. In fact, it looked as if this Christmas Santa might not even come to our house. My Dad, who was a watchmaker by trade, had shattered his elbow in a sledding accident on New Years’ Day that year, and he had lain in bed with his arm in traction for most of the year. He still was not able to go back to work, and would probably never again be able to work at his trade. My sister, Leone, the oldest child in the family, had dropped out of her first year at the University to go to work full time to help support the family.
Our parents had tried to prepare us for a meager Christmas as the season approached, by talking to us about how thankful we were that our Dad’s arm was healing. And that we should think more about the true meaning of Christmas this year instead of what we wanted Santa to bring us. We knew it would be sparse, and we had prepared ourselves, as well as children can prepare themselves for such a thing. We would be happy with whatever Santa was able to leave us.
We hurried through dinner, and the excitement was running high as Dad finished with Tiny Tim and we had hung our stockings and placed our gifts in neat stacks beneath them. We gathered in the living room for the reading of the Christmas Story from Luke and a rousing chorus of “Silent Night”. Family prayer followed, and my Dad expressed a deep gratitude to Heavenly Father for his goodness to our family through the past year. He wept as he recounted the overwhelming outpouring of love from friends and neighbors as he lay immobilized for so many months. My Dad was Bishop of our Ward, and thanks to his wonderful counselors was able to carry on in that position through it all.
Prayer ended, we hugged and kissed each other, and headed to our beds, where we laid awake whispering and laughing most the night in anticipation of what wonderful surprises the morning might hold for us. Sleep finally overtook me in the wee hours of the morning, but not for long. Before I knew it, my brothers were calling down to Mom and Dad, “Can we get our stockings now?”
Of course, the answer was always a sleepy, “No, go back to bed for a couple of hours!” Every twenty minutes for the next hour the ritual repeated itself, until finally my parents relented and granted us permission to get our stockings. We all jumped out of bed and thundered down the stairs to the kitchen where we found our stockings brimming with nuts and candy and apples and oranges and bananas – and the traditional mini packs of cold cereal that had become a long-awaited Christmas tradition. Christmas morning was the only time we ever got to have cold cereal at our house, and we relished it!
Soon we cleared away the torn wrapping paper and gathered up the chaos of gifts into neat stacks, and prepared to enter the living room where the gifts from Santa awaited us. We lined up according to size, with smallest first, and listened excitedly as we heard Dad through the closed door turning on the Christmas music and Christmas tree lights.
All of a sudden the door flew open and we ran helter skelter into the living room, pushing the little ones in front of us aside, searching for our pile of Santa-borne gifts. But suddenly we all stopped dead in our tracks. Right there in the middle of the living room, in living color, stood a beautiful, shiny, new, bright red bicycle. It had Roy’s name on it, but that didn’t matter to the rest of us. Forgetting our own gifts, we all gathered together around the bicycle, ringing it’s bell and exclaiming our delight. Roy, who had been all but pushed out of the way, was ceremoniously brought forward and carefully wrapped his 9-year-old arms around the bicycle and broke into tears.
None of us noticed the tears that my parents wiped from their eyes. Nor did we see them embrace my sister, Leone, as she wept. And it wasn’t until later in the day that we learned that Leone, arriving home early from work on Christmas Eve, had approached my mother with a Christmas bonus given her by her boss. She wanted to do something special for the family, and asked Mom to accompany her back downtown to the old Salt Lake Hardware store where she had seen the bike on sale. Her bonus check was exactly enough to cover the cost of the bike.
I have enjoyed many joyful, meaningful Christmases since that year of the bike, but none have left such an indelible mark on my heart as seeing the joy in my little brother’s eyes, and feeling the Lord’s spirit in our home as my sister gave so unselfishly of herself. Not just that Christmas day, but through the entire year prior, she had sacrificed her own dreams to provide for her little brothers and sisters.
“Roy! Come on home. It’s time to eat!” I stuck my head out the front door and called to my little brother who turned 9 in May of that year. I was two years older and wiser than he, and my mother, who had just returned from a last-minute shopping trip with my oldest sister, had assigned me the task of calling him home for dinner.
It was Christmas Eve, 1959, and all 8 of us children were beside ourselves with excitement. As soon as dinner was over we would gather in the living room for the final chapter of Charles Dickens, “A Christmas Carol”. It was my favorite chapter, and one that I had almost memorized through my father’s many readings of it to us every Christmas Eve for as long as I could remember.
As soon as we all joined in chorus to Tiny Tim’s final words, “God bless us, every one!”, we would all jump up and gather up our gifts to each other that had been waiting under the Christmas tree. We’d carry them carefully to the kitchen where we would place them under the stockings that we hung on a wire strung under the kitchen window.
As I went back in the house and closed the front door, I could hear Roy rattling down the street on the old faded blue contraption that passed for a bicycle that had been in our family for eons. It was the family bike, and the only one we had ever owned, to my recollection. My parents had purchased it second or third hand a dozen years before, and it had passed to each of us children as we reached the age where we could learn to ride the huge thing.
It was a full-sized girl’s bike, without a cross bar, and was being held together with chewing gum and baling wire. It had been painted umpteen times during its lifetime, and the seat and wheels and tires and chain and fenders had been replaced so many times that there was probably not a single part that was original to the bike. But it had served us well over the years.
For the past couple of years Roy had let it be known that he wanted a new bike for Christmas. But that’s something every one of us had asked for through the years, and we all knew it would never happen. Though Santa visited us every year and “dumped his bag in our living room”, we knew that our parents had to pay Santa for everything he brought, and somehow there was never quite enough money for a new bike.
This Christmas that was especially true. In fact, it looked as if this Christmas Santa might not even come to our house. My Dad, who was a watchmaker by trade, had shattered his elbow in a sledding accident on New Years’ Day that year, and he had lain in bed with his arm in traction for most of the year. He still was not able to go back to work, and would probably never again be able to work at his trade. My sister, Leone, the oldest child in the family, had dropped out of her first year at the University to go to work full time to help support the family.
Our parents had tried to prepare us for a meager Christmas as the season approached, by talking to us about how thankful we were that our Dad’s arm was healing. And that we should think more about the true meaning of Christmas this year instead of what we wanted Santa to bring us. We knew it would be sparse, and we had prepared ourselves, as well as children can prepare themselves for such a thing. We would be happy with whatever Santa was able to leave us.
We hurried through dinner, and the excitement was running high as Dad finished with Tiny Tim and we had hung our stockings and placed our gifts in neat stacks beneath them. We gathered in the living room for the reading of the Christmas Story from Luke and a rousing chorus of “Silent Night”. Family prayer followed, and my Dad expressed a deep gratitude to Heavenly Father for his goodness to our family through the past year. He wept as he recounted the overwhelming outpouring of love from friends and neighbors as he lay immobilized for so many months. My Dad was Bishop of our Ward, and thanks to his wonderful counselors was able to carry on in that position through it all.
Prayer ended, we hugged and kissed each other, and headed to our beds, where we laid awake whispering and laughing most the night in anticipation of what wonderful surprises the morning might hold for us. Sleep finally overtook me in the wee hours of the morning, but not for long. Before I knew it, my brothers were calling down to Mom and Dad, “Can we get our stockings now?”
Of course, the answer was always a sleepy, “No, go back to bed for a couple of hours!” Every twenty minutes for the next hour the ritual repeated itself, until finally my parents relented and granted us permission to get our stockings. We all jumped out of bed and thundered down the stairs to the kitchen where we found our stockings brimming with nuts and candy and apples and oranges and bananas – and the traditional mini packs of cold cereal that had become a long-awaited Christmas tradition. Christmas morning was the only time we ever got to have cold cereal at our house, and we relished it!
Soon we cleared away the torn wrapping paper and gathered up the chaos of gifts into neat stacks, and prepared to enter the living room where the gifts from Santa awaited us. We lined up according to size, with smallest first, and listened excitedly as we heard Dad through the closed door turning on the Christmas music and Christmas tree lights.
All of a sudden the door flew open and we ran helter skelter into the living room, pushing the little ones in front of us aside, searching for our pile of Santa-borne gifts. But suddenly we all stopped dead in our tracks. Right there in the middle of the living room, in living color, stood a beautiful, shiny, new, bright red bicycle. It had Roy’s name on it, but that didn’t matter to the rest of us. Forgetting our own gifts, we all gathered together around the bicycle, ringing it’s bell and exclaiming our delight. Roy, who had been all but pushed out of the way, was ceremoniously brought forward and carefully wrapped his 9-year-old arms around the bicycle and broke into tears.
None of us noticed the tears that my parents wiped from their eyes. Nor did we see them embrace my sister, Leone, as she wept. And it wasn’t until later in the day that we learned that Leone, arriving home early from work on Christmas Eve, had approached my mother with a Christmas bonus given her by her boss. She wanted to do something special for the family, and asked Mom to accompany her back downtown to the old Salt Lake Hardware store where she had seen the bike on sale. Her bonus check was exactly enough to cover the cost of the bike.
I have enjoyed many joyful, meaningful Christmases since that year of the bike, but none have left such an indelible mark on my heart as seeing the joy in my little brother’s eyes, and feeling the Lord’s spirit in our home as my sister gave so unselfishly of herself. Not just that Christmas day, but through the entire year prior, she had sacrificed her own dreams to provide for her little brothers and sisters.
My kid
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As some of you know, I have a friend who takes personal offense if I am ever in the least pleased with my kids. I hope she never finds this blog. (don't worry Ramona - protected) Really, my not so much friend would be offended almost every second if only she knew. There are moments in a mothers life, that you hope will will be burned on your retinas forever. In this game, this was not it. That moment was when levi stole the ball and and took it down for a huge slam dunk, high above the rim with both hands. He caught the rim on the way back down and hung out there for a couple seconds. I scream really loud.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Jeremy & Maria have finally Arrived
Hey all, Maria has finally figured out how to get us onto the blog. Which is exciting. We have been reading and keeping up with Everyone's goings on through email. Somehow the blog stuff goes to my email account per post. But anyways. We love you all and are happy this blog is up and doing so well. We love seeing pictures of remodels, and babies, and basketball.
For my addition I would like to show something fantastic about politics. Now this is the most attention I have ever payed to a presidential election. I follow the polls daily, and have read just about everything that has been said about or by the candidates for the past 3 months.
Romney in my opinion is the Man, for many reasons which I wont get into now. However, I saw something on youtube which I will try to link, about his faith and government. He was unaware when he said this that he was being videotaped, he was on a radio program and this video made it to youtube. this should work to send you to this video. Now it is 20 minutes and it is all worth a watch but the real meat happens in the middle when they put down the headsets for a commercial break and are off the air.
As for Maria and me we are happy and loving life, we are enjoying time here in Idaho. Classes for fall went swimmingly, and Cali our cat continues to be cute. I will upload some pictures.
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So here you have her from kitten to Cat. We love you all. I am going to upload this now to see if it works. Love Jeremy & Maria
jw
For my addition I would like to show something fantastic about politics. Now this is the most attention I have ever payed to a presidential election. I follow the polls daily, and have read just about everything that has been said about or by the candidates for the past 3 months.
Romney in my opinion is the Man, for many reasons which I wont get into now. However, I saw something on youtube which I will try to link, about his faith and government. He was unaware when he said this that he was being videotaped, he was on a radio program and this video made it to youtube. this should work to send you to this video. Now it is 20 minutes and it is all worth a watch but the real meat happens in the middle when they put down the headsets for a commercial break and are off the air.
As for Maria and me we are happy and loving life, we are enjoying time here in Idaho. Classes for fall went swimmingly, and Cali our cat continues to be cute. I will upload some pictures.
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So here you have her from kitten to Cat. We love you all. I am going to upload this now to see if it works. Love Jeremy & Maria
jw
Monday, December 17, 2007
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Baby remodel almost done!!
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Coming in on the final stretch with our little man-child. (End of Feb) Jenny is unmistakably prego at any distance now (Hot prego, not just prego) . I think there is some merit to carrying boys and girls differently, it looks different to me. Here are some of the latest baby photos. High risk does carry the added benefit of a lot of ultrasounds. That's pretty much all this doctor does, have his girl do ultrasounds and reassure us of proper development. Cool.
I have been back on funeral detail service since finishing SERE. Did one last Saturday and have one tomorrow, locals complete with six man firing detail. After tomorrow we are off for the Holidays, replete with over spending and little to show for it. Alas, but to be independently wealthy. I know Jenny needs a Mini Cooper S, but that will have to wait till ebay can provide a suitable, um, preowned model. Cheap. Speaking of cheap, my 500 dollar Mazda runs like a champ and nears 240,000. Wish we made cars that well. And bikes for that matter. Why does Japan have four hugely successful bike makes and all we can manage is Hardly-Davison. We should have a handful of amellican made bikes to own every championship and keep amellican dollars in amellica. Anyway.
The weather here is unseasonably warm, which is nice, since now that I am done flying I can assist the local guys in tearing up the nearby dirt track. YeeHaa!!
Friday, December 14, 2007
Thursday, December 13, 2007
The reason for Christmas
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Kitchen progress wednesday.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Living room and bedroom
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Very clean house
Mental Health Hotline
Here's a funny one that Ramona sent to me earlier. I couldn't figure out how to post an MP3 on here, but I found it on youtube:\
here it is
here it is
My Little Orphans
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When Cindy Lynn was little she liked to pretend that she was an orphan. I am not sure if that was a reflection on my parenting, or just a plot device. Most of her play centered around the tree in our front yard, from with an old battered pot was suspended. Someone driving down our street once remarked that it was obvious that a tidy yard wasn't as important to us as our children's fun. I was surprised--I had actually stopped seeing the pot hanging from the tree after a little while...
So today I went out to see what fun was being had in the 80 degree weather by my little people. They were all sitting in the hammock deeply engrossed in some terrific adventure, and were more than happy to tell me about it. And then tell me more. And more still. The gist of the story was that Rachel & Jenna were both orphaned Indians, and Jared was an orphaned white man. And they had to work as cooks in the Indian kitchens.
I hope this is a healthy thing, my children's desire to pretend they are orphans...
Kitchen in Progress
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