tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45134124617768507562024-02-18T21:53:18.907-08:00Ms. Kimberellie I occasionally get dressedKimberelliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16590867490999668892noreply@blogger.comBlogger254125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4513412461776850756.post-89672366230305406992024-02-18T21:42:00.000-08:002024-02-18T21:52:47.165-08:00Late Night Date Night<p>I bought an entire outfit for a belated Valentine's Day date night. You saw it the other day. All that denim denim denim. I didn't wear it on the date. </p><p><br /></p><p>Why not?</p><p><br /></p><p>Well. I didn't want to. But I absolutely wanted an excuse to buy the outfit in the first place. Apparently this sort of thinking is called "girl math". A friend informed me of this WONDERFUL concept. Now I know what field of study to pursue if I ever get my Master's. Because I am hella good at girl math. </p><p><br /></p><p>In other news, here's the outfit I DID end up wearing on the date:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5zmjfSIQEEbYT-xlhDDGCrzFD1nJy8p9BmWt5WEZhg_pQSM-QwjvXpFTexxvzZG7sDnHylskq42KxZtQa8-DoB7_Laz2EV4AMM_dsAU4GhLsWkN7pitUZ1ThLUJJY0YoqRhuF39Z2s5jUMluYms4ah5Yd_jkV3xViXn4_8Gh1Sy_2wTgYTkivtzIXf5VT/s4032/PXL_20240218_020210704.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5zmjfSIQEEbYT-xlhDDGCrzFD1nJy8p9BmWt5WEZhg_pQSM-QwjvXpFTexxvzZG7sDnHylskq42KxZtQa8-DoB7_Laz2EV4AMM_dsAU4GhLsWkN7pitUZ1ThLUJJY0YoqRhuF39Z2s5jUMluYms4ah5Yd_jkV3xViXn4_8Gh1Sy_2wTgYTkivtzIXf5VT/s16000/PXL_20240218_020210704.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4eIbRxGIX3Wa8KHX-7tgZ32U0Rc3NJVqjQov7VVcUAO3zazeYK6PBjOR_JDghY2MvDtO6ZjsPxU7jKScMEwbb2LQ-iyy5LxfqBoETQSAocwnG9M6th5CG2s1Hq_p5uw5kFiQetAWAc8p_V36TC_ft2dk_bRT1cH9BF5guuOj7UuEJtZ94o4IUlyZCdNyw/s4032/PXL_20240218_020217110.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4eIbRxGIX3Wa8KHX-7tgZ32U0Rc3NJVqjQov7VVcUAO3zazeYK6PBjOR_JDghY2MvDtO6ZjsPxU7jKScMEwbb2LQ-iyy5LxfqBoETQSAocwnG9M6th5CG2s1Hq_p5uw5kFiQetAWAc8p_V36TC_ft2dk_bRT1cH9BF5guuOj7UuEJtZ94o4IUlyZCdNyw/s16000/PXL_20240218_020217110.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p>So let's see if I can remember everything I am wearing and where it's from:</p><p>Book bag: I made it. It was a book. </p><p>Blazer: H&M</p><p>Shorts: Winners. They were much longer but I cut them. </p><p>Velvet Top: Winners, Zara. The straps were too long so I cut them and sewed them back up again. </p><p>Black tights: they were just in my drawer. They have always been in my drawer. There will ALWAYS be a pair of black tights in my drawer. I don't know where they come from. They are just always there. And always will be. *cue ominous music*</p><p>Boots: Doc Martens platforms. These are THE BEST SHOES EVER. </p><p>Necklaces: Tiffany's key & a necklace that was my mom's. </p><p>Blue light: that's magic. I use magic to take pictures now. I'm magic now. </p><p>Also just noticed that my blazer is VERY linty. But that's okay. Because I don't think anyone actually reads this. </p><p><br /></p><p>Kisses!!!</p><p>XOXO: Kimberellie </p><p><br /></p>Kimberelliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16590867490999668892noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4513412461776850756.post-6948076616183318642024-02-14T14:24:00.000-08:002024-02-14T14:30:41.873-08:00Oh my gosh should I blog again?<p>Because really, where else am I supposed to put photos of new outfits?</p><p><br /></p><p>Also. I have neither done my hair or my make up. Oh well. Pretend I have.</p><p><br /></p><p>Maybe i should. Gosh. Okay. Brb. </p><p><br /></p><p>Okay. I put on make up. Here it is:</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGCjrage6C_iuAhTWCfABY5Si3tgtPHTy4Z-iKNAz5X3hRhZ6dJ-24dz6kegWpAbRBrR_-cCLJxNQ4oAstyi-uR3VyXPaDkEgzvRSESO_bZEeWhJUFb9Sy22iVN4hd9nMiC6LwT46vhZGRM97CpecQyRoh-mnHPc9PKzWqEty3RMDbXaw7Gnibwiv9JZkl/s4032/PXL_20240214_220625105.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGCjrage6C_iuAhTWCfABY5Si3tgtPHTy4Z-iKNAz5X3hRhZ6dJ-24dz6kegWpAbRBrR_-cCLJxNQ4oAstyi-uR3VyXPaDkEgzvRSESO_bZEeWhJUFb9Sy22iVN4hd9nMiC6LwT46vhZGRM97CpecQyRoh-mnHPc9PKzWqEty3RMDbXaw7Gnibwiv9JZkl/s16000/PXL_20240214_220625105.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p>That's just what I'm wearing today. I switch it up everyday. I will show a pic of my current skincare sometime soon.</p><p><br /></p><p>Okay. Next up:</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2qt4oBHUx5sxLglsWpAkovpPgzVOPzZ1pfSuxwXnDrbsYtxs_EOc3hxd7Wy6mOxMQhzexYV_mw02kq2t4h7dYeHAyDJG2f3lg6bzm33qFjFKvi1vrOZOiaE1AKzRlHI9OvZrkiWl_n_gt6tQ_d4ZLJoAU4mqeEoN-Qagx_Fktw6WGuLo_eUJfP3hd7sS3/s4032/PXL_20240214_221351815.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2qt4oBHUx5sxLglsWpAkovpPgzVOPzZ1pfSuxwXnDrbsYtxs_EOc3hxd7Wy6mOxMQhzexYV_mw02kq2t4h7dYeHAyDJG2f3lg6bzm33qFjFKvi1vrOZOiaE1AKzRlHI9OvZrkiWl_n_gt6tQ_d4ZLJoAU4mqeEoN-Qagx_Fktw6WGuLo_eUJfP3hd7sS3/s16000/PXL_20240214_221351815.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV7jZGyERjSihWygApD4Bb2H7FQhHB9GM8ugICk2-X23km_lsIhJVYTEbcHo7Z49Gcfsb4EOcVb0FHEV2-tZhg6bj_XCyCTPREN2OPl2QHpltxDDD3_050m31bfm_10giVg0kdcx9RdjKiB2nUb8YfIj8mHNKMlEifOU6aYoLX9PmxcV0zA9FwzoazHt0D/s4032/PXL_20240214_221402878.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV7jZGyERjSihWygApD4Bb2H7FQhHB9GM8ugICk2-X23km_lsIhJVYTEbcHo7Z49Gcfsb4EOcVb0FHEV2-tZhg6bj_XCyCTPREN2OPl2QHpltxDDD3_050m31bfm_10giVg0kdcx9RdjKiB2nUb8YfIj8mHNKMlEifOU6aYoLX9PmxcV0zA9FwzoazHt0D/s16000/PXL_20240214_221402878.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZKTdIsdK6OrEYgOZlcVXflqYVeGCYudnAKH8J8oezoLksecxUf3MmJ3w4nRLgmPZl4N1UsHMtQXIDGyB6XIcHeAC-zRjIv0DhAHH5jvaEHywkPAd4T_9YWRFG7Q2i086eXwMr_FZD4nwKAbf5oTZJ7aMsV2-lUYK-jrxXK-gxIwZQjgM_u1-7k9mlZkLM/s4032/PXL_20240214_221415855.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZKTdIsdK6OrEYgOZlcVXflqYVeGCYudnAKH8J8oezoLksecxUf3MmJ3w4nRLgmPZl4N1UsHMtQXIDGyB6XIcHeAC-zRjIv0DhAHH5jvaEHywkPAd4T_9YWRFG7Q2i086eXwMr_FZD4nwKAbf5oTZJ7aMsV2-lUYK-jrxXK-gxIwZQjgM_u1-7k9mlZkLM/s16000/PXL_20240214_221415855.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p>It's been about a DECADE since I did this. So I'm a little rusty. But:</p><p><br /></p><p>Shoes: Dr Martens loafers, found them for A STEAL at Winners</p><p>Skirt & top: H&M still available if you love it as much as I do.</p><p>Book bag: it's me. I made it. It deserves it's own post. But that's for another day. </p><p>Necklace: Winners. It's fabulous. Should have done a close up. Next time! </p><p>Dog: that's Lolly. FYI </p><p><br /></p><p>Also. Since I last posted I have had a third child (son), moved house, and have TOO MANY animals.</p><p> I am also 42 now. For a second I almost wrote 43. It's hard to remember at one point. But I figure it's high time I stopped dressing my age. Dressing one's age is bullshit. </p><p><br /></p><p>What else? What else?</p><p><br /></p><p>I don't know. Hopefully it doesn't take me 10 years to post again!</p><p><br /></p><p>Later babes,</p><p><br /></p><p>XOXO</p><p><br /></p><p>Kimberellie </p>Kimberelliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16590867490999668892noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4513412461776850756.post-49385964528069357572014-04-03T22:52:00.002-07:002014-04-03T23:05:29.811-07:00Dear Pinterest Moms,<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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UNITE!</div>
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You thought I was going to say something else, didn't you? You thought this was going to be ANOTHER rant against Pinterest, against crafting, against “making our children's lives magical”. Nope. Sorry. It isn't that. This is for you Pinterest Mom. Because you know what? I like you. And I like you, because I AM you.</div>
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Yes. I confess, I'm a “Pinterest Mom”. Not only do I pin that sh-t, I do that sh-t. And GUESS FREAKIN WHAT? I don't do it for “show”. I don't do it to make other moms feel “inadequate”. Heck, I don't even do it for my kids' benefit. Oh no. It's even crazier than that. Hold on, because this may astonish you, (not you Pinterest Mom, you already know the reason), but YOU, you many writers of many articles and all those moms who comment “AMEN”! You all may be astonished.</div>
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Because you don't get WHY: why we craft with our kids, why we create “themed bedrooms”, why we throw elaborate birthday parties, why we bake cookies, and make our kids' foods into crazy animal shapes. You don't get it. Because you don't like it. You don't want to do it. Well, I get that. Because that's our reason too: <i>desire.</i></div>
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That's right. We Pinterest Moms are “Pinterest Moms”<i> because we like it</i>. We like to craft. We like to decorate. We like to cook and throw parties. We like to make stuff, FOR FUN. We don't do it to make other mothers feel inadequate. We don't do it to show off. And if and when we do show our crafts/baking/parties, it isn't FOR YOU. No. You don't like it. We get that. We just read the fiftieth article that painted us all with the “show off/trying too hard/faking it” brush. So we now know you don't want to see it. But that's okay. Because we didn't post that pic to Instagram <i>for you</i>.</div>
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It was for US. Yes, us. So I say it again: PINTEREST MOMS UNITE. Unite and tell the world: we want to see that sh-t. We want to see what so and so did with clothespins, and what so and so made with twigs. We want to see that fondant cake, because heck, maybe we will make one just like it! Heck, that's a good idea. WOW, I never thought to do <i>that </i>before. That. Looks. FUN. And that's why we do it: F U N.</div>
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We're having fun. We're not contriving magic. We are not more concerned about our children than you are. We are not better moms. We are just crafty moms. And we were crafty before we had kids. And we will be crafty when our children are grown up. And we are just pleased as punch that we have teeny little willing crafting/cooking/baking partners.</div>
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And you know what? If you don't craft/cook/bake/whatever, with your kids,<i> that's okay.</i> We Pinterest Moms don't care. In fact, my mother never did anything like that with me. And look at me now! I can't stop crafting. So don't feel like your children are missing out (and if you're really concerned throw some craft supplies their way, or not; there's always twigs).</div>
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But you see: it's not a competition. We were never competing. We were just having fun in the way that we have fun. If you have a different sort of fun with your family: do it. Post videos of your entire family singing together on Youtube. Go right ahead. And I promise to not feel inadequate because of them. I'd rather be poked in the eye repeatedly than do that sh-t. </div>
Kimberelliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16590867490999668892noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4513412461776850756.post-47556145987488143162012-10-25T23:23:00.001-07:002012-10-25T23:23:49.232-07:00Instakim<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Hey y'all,<br />
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Just wanted to let you know we four Furnellies are now on Instagram if you want to follow along. <br />
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<b>heart:</b><br />
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Kimberellie who is known as @missfurnellie on Instagram<br />
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ps. Don't worry, Miss V has a longer post in the works for anyone who is lamenting the lack of text in this one.<br />
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dress: calvin klein (super on sale $20)</div>
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jacket, danier: had it forever. It's already paid for itself. I swear. It does houework.</div>
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boots: you can't really see them in the pic. But they're there.</div>
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bag, vintaage doony and bourke: $80 bought online</div>
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Kimberelliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16590867490999668892noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4513412461776850756.post-65266823045737962612012-10-16T22:46:00.000-07:002012-10-16T22:51:06.226-07:00the best thing since Sophie<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="text-align: left;">V here again. I don't have much to say other than: LOOK AT MY LEGGINGS THEY FREAKIN' MATCH MY DRESS! Cool, cool, cool. I think so. </span></div>
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<b><i>kisses!</i></b><br />
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<b>V</b></div>
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<b>outfit details:</b></div>
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dress: gap </div>
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<a href="http://oldnavy.gapcanada.ca/browse/product.do?cid=60279&vid=1&pid=478780&scid=478780133" target="_blank">leggings: old navy (available in stores currently)</a></div>
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shoes: <a href="http://www.padraigcottage.com/" target="_blank">padraigs</a></div>
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hair clip: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Emma-Bug-Bowtique/160718083989758" target="_blank">emma-bug bowtique</a></div>
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onsie (worn under dress): gap</div>
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ps. if something isn't listed as "available in stores currently" it's either because:<br />
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a. my mommy thrifted it. <br />
b. my mommy bought it last year on clearance.<br />
c. it was a gift. <br />
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So uh, sorry you can't just have your mommy order everything I'm wearing online, like SOME baby bloggers. That just isn't how I roll. My style is 100% <i>unique fantastical</i>. That said, I'll let you know if you CAN buy it. Because who doesn't want birdie leggings? Because shucks, they're pretty much the best thing since <a href="http://www.toysrus.com.au/sophie-the-giraffe/w1/i1197712/" target="_blank">Sophie the Giraffe</a> (available in stores currently). <br />
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pps. no one has paid me for any product mentions in this post. But they should; then I could go buy some of those mini-marshmallows I stole from the cupboard the other day that are no longer where they were and so we are probably out and mommy would love it if I bought some more. <br />
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Kimberelliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16590867490999668892noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4513412461776850756.post-16223848713696462292012-10-12T20:00:00.000-07:002012-10-12T20:06:06.403-07:00Miss V in Sweater Leggings<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Hi I'm BV. That's short for Baby Violet. You can just call me Violet, or V, or Miss V. Whatevs. I'm easy. Actually, I'm not. If you cross me I will fling myself to the floor and scream. Earlier I was being Mr. Hyde. I don't know who THAT is. But that's what my mommy said. And she thinks she's always right. So I just go with it. Unless of course I want to do something else. Then I just fling myself to the floor and scream.</div>
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In other news, my mommy made me these leg warmers. They are made from a sweater. My mommy likes to do stuff like this. I don't mind. Unless of course she made me a pair in a colour I didn't like; then I'd <i>definitely</i> fling myself to the floor and scream. Sometimes I also like to walk around screaming really high pitched like. But don't worry. My mommy loves me. She thinks I'm the greatest thing ever. See? The crying thing <i>works</i>.</div>
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<b><span style="color: magenta;">kisses!</span></b></div>
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<span style="color: magenta; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>miss V</i></span></div>
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<i>Oh right, here are some instagrams my mommy asked me to add. This is when I escaped from the photo shot. It was awesome. </i></div>
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Kimberelliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16590867490999668892noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4513412461776850756.post-47376344738029806052012-10-10T15:26:00.000-07:002012-10-10T15:26:30.573-07:00Blog news update too many words to read<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I finally have a smart phone, an iPhone to be precise. I'd like to say I'm the last person in the world to get an iPhone...but then I remember the world is really really big; and there are many people who don't even have enough money to feed themselves, nonetheless get smart phones. So, you know what? I'm grateful. I am grateful that I have enough money for something completely unnecessary to life. In fact, I have tons of money for such little frivolities Starbucks, magazines, yarn. Though compared to other people in the first world I would not be considered rich, I consider myself rich. And most importantly I consider myself rich in <i>all the best things in life money can't buy</i>: health, love, family.<br />
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And oh right, the point of this announcement was to mention my outfit photos are being downgraded to instagrams & hipstamatics because I am laaaaaaaaaaazy (okay buuuuuuuusy).<br />
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<b>Now, let's stop being deep:</b> I want to introduce you to my outfit: this sweater is AWESOME. The Zellers in our town is closing and so I got a great deal (20 bucks). But it is Merino Wool and well, AWEEEEESOME. The snood (I even looked the word up to make sure I am using it right) I made myself (yep...yeah moi). <br />
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Here's what it looks like. It's basically just a crocheted tube. <br />
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Also, I just got rid of a TON of clothes. My new clothing philosophy is to buy LESS and pay MORE. It's all about quality. So actually, the sweater was quality <i>and thrifty</i>, which is the best of both worlds! But yes, my clothes were beginning to give me a headache...overwhelming my life....attacking me at odd hours...lusting after my blood. You know how it is.<br />
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<b>In other news:</b><br />
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There will now be THREE of us blogging. Yes, three. I'll introduce us, okay? Well me, you already know. So I'll introduce the other two.<br />
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<b>Firstly</b>, BABY VIOLET! Yep, she wants to blog. And also, she's ADORABLE. And look at those cute bloomers? Seriously. I figure years and years from now, even more than wanting to see my own outfit photos, I am going to want to see hers!<br />
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<b>Secondly</b>, Barbie. Seriously. You'll see.</div>
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Also, I'll be: writing less, not always listing outfit details, and generally slacking off more. But there will be pictures if nothing else (and sometimes nothing else).</div>
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<b>Heart: Kimberellie</b></div>
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<b>Kisses: Baby V</b></div>
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<b>Ciao: Barbie</b></div>
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Kimberelliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16590867490999668892noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4513412461776850756.post-71703158805801372892012-09-30T14:31:00.000-07:002012-09-30T14:35:09.092-07:00Baby Blog<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Hmmm...I'm outside. Look, stuff on the ground.</div>
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I'm going to pick that up.</div>
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What have I got here?</div>
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Look! It's a leaf!</div>
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I'm just going to eat that.</div>
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It's good!</div>
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Hi. My mommy says it's never too early to start blogging. And considering that she hasn't blogged for awhile, I thought I'd take over. That's right! This is now MY blog. Yep, my baby fashion blog. And if you don't think I'm <i>really</i> into this you should see me make my mommy put on all my different shoes at night (especially the pink sparkle ones, I luuuuuuv them...mommy says they're too small...but what does she know? They're my feet!).<br />
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What I like best about this outfit is the really cool leggings that my mom made out of an old Gap sweater. You can do this diy yourself...if you want. I'm not going to post instructions because I'm only one; and my mommy says people can probably figure it out themselves (just think sweater into leggings...easy peasy). You don't even need any elasitic if the sweater is already stretchy, just cut a rectangle out and stitch up the side (you can even use the sleeves!). <br />
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Um...yeah, that's all I got for now. <br />
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Peace out yo.<br />
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kisses,<br />
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<span style="color: #674ea7;"><b>Baby V</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #674ea7;"><b>Outfit details:</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #674ea7;">Cardigan, Mex</span></div>
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<span style="color: #674ea7;">Brown doggie onsie Gap</span></div>
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<span style="color: #674ea7;">TCP skirt</span></div>
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<span style="color: #674ea7;">Ugg Booties</span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;">bow:<a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Emma-Bug-Bowtique/160718083989758" target="_blank"> Emma-Bug Bowtique</a></span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;"> </span><span style="color: #674ea7;">Leggings: made by mommy</span></div>
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<span style="color: #674ea7;">Leaf: delicious</span></div>
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Kimberelliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16590867490999668892noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4513412461776850756.post-1836742378021599282012-08-14T19:57:00.001-07:002012-08-14T19:57:35.076-07:00dryad<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've been living in this dress this summer. And I don't mean "living in this dress" in the sense that fashion editors mean it when they say something like: "you'll just live in this skirt/dress/pant suit". ei. you'll wear it a couple times a month (or less). But really, truly, so much so that I have had to CHANGE out of it before going out because it's like the fourth day in a row and I am going to Value Village two days in a row (where I also "live"). And well, yes, it's very comfortable.<br />
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As for the title: HELLO SILVER PLATED CEDAR twiggies. Or shall I say: "scale-leaf conifer earring". Because it could be juniper. I don't know. I got it (and its mate) at a thrift store for a buck. The very lovely, very English, owner told me they were silver plated tree twiggies (or what have you scale-leaf conifer/cedar/juniper/who knows/maybe you know?/earrings).<br />
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heart: Kimberellie<br />
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ps. I still exist.<br />
pps. I hate my header.<br />
ppps. I am thinking of blogging every Friday.<br />
pppps. I wouldn't hold me to that if I were you.<br />
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Kimberelliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16590867490999668892noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4513412461776850756.post-61498132796761474502012-06-05T19:24:00.001-07:002012-06-05T19:32:29.268-07:00Now that I've got you right where I want you<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I'm pretty excited. I'm pretty excited because it seems that<i> no one is paying any attention </i>to my blog anymore. YES, this is an occasion for excitement. Because you see, when people are paying attention I feel beholden to them to well: <i>deliver</i>. You know: the goods. The stuff. The interesting stuff. Outfit photographs, coherent sentences, you know, stuff. </div>
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But if no one is paying attention, I don't feel beholden. Instead I feel free. Frickenfantabulastic free! Free to yammer on about whatever <i>I</i> want. </div>
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<b>Let's take a step back here. I'll explain,</b></div>
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When I first started blogging I did it because I was full of inane nonsense that needed some sort of outlet. So I figured I would inflict myself upon the world in general. Only, I figured no one would pay attention except a few people who knew me in real life (and they do pay attention...but mostly leave me to my own devices...and I like that about them). But ANYWAY, what happened was OTHER people started paying attention, people I had never met before.</div>
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And at first this was awesome. It was awesome because I got to meet new people. And I like that sort of thing. Only, then I felt all obligated to visit their blogs. Which, actually, was also awesome. Because I like reading blogs. Only, then it was just too much. Because suddenly I was a personal style blogger (which I never really intended on becoming) and I had all these blogs I <i>had</i> to look at (because I am unfailingly polite about "visiting back"). </div>
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<i>And then </i>I had another child. And it really did become too much, too much to do at all. At least too much to do at all in the way I felt I ought to. And then one day I realized I was (barely) maintaining a blog that wasn't any fun for me. <b> I mean, SERIOUSLY, why the HECK<i> would someone do that?</i></b> It's not like anyone was paying me! And to be perfectly honest, I won't even be paid for something I don't think is fun.</div>
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So here I am now to tell you all (you all with zero expectations because no one is listening): that I am glad. I am glad because zero audience means zero expectations means I can get back to where I started and start speaking nonsense into the ether again.</div>
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So that's what I am going to do. Here's what you* can expect:</div>
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1. Random photographs I like.</div>
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2. Maybe some poetry <i>finally</i> (I don't care that no one likes poetry. <i>I </i>like poetry).</div>
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3. Lists. I like list, <i>a lot.</i></div>
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4. Thoughts. I have them. They're in my head. I can type them out. </div>
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5. Photographs of toys. </div>
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6. Photographs of me. <br />
7. Book recommendations.<br />
8. Oatmeal.</div>
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Maybe this will evolve into some sort of mommy blog. Or maybe it will continue to be a mostly personal style blog. Or maybe it will just be a personal blog. The point is: I don't care to do what anyone else expects. And I know, I know, the expectations are mostly in <i>my</i> head, not yours.</div>
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But I guess I felt like explaining that I am going to veer sharply to the left now, close my eyes, pretend <i>no on</i>e is reading, and enjoy myself. Because that, in the end, is what I wanted from the beginning.</div>
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Heart: K</div>
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*dear husband, if no one else, I know <i>you</i> are reading. And thanks for the tea.</div>
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photos:</div>
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1. Tim Horton's steeped tea, one cream one sugar. It's my drug of choice. Seriously, there is nothing better.</div>
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2. One of the best parts of having two children is having them love each other. It's awesome.</div>Kimberelliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16590867490999668892noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4513412461776850756.post-82663900152106071012012-06-04T21:55:00.000-07:002012-06-04T21:59:17.870-07:00photographs #1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My son and I.</div>
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I found matching shoes for V.</div>
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We like to play Barbies (the vintage one is mine...my son is allowed to play with her supervised!). </div>
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Baby V's first sprinkler experience. She went right for it.</div>
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<3 K</div>
<br />Kimberelliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16590867490999668892noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4513412461776850756.post-1162433977426268062012-05-20T15:37:00.001-07:002012-05-20T15:37:22.958-07:00and everyone went on a walk without me (awesome)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Kicking everyone out of the house is my favourite. Also I really like cookies. Peek Freans Life Style Cranberry Citrus Oat Crunch is my cookie du jour. They're pretty good. Also they pretend they're healthy. And they probably are, sort of, healthier anyway. But what was I saying? Right, the people who live with me. They're gone. I kicked them out. They're just too noisy. And they won't nap. </div>
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It's awesome. I don't know about you, but being alone is my favourite. I also like quiet a lot. Another thing I like is "uninterrupted". Also, I'm partial to "absence of whining" and "lack of too many questions asked by toddler" (who, come to think of it, may technically be a "preschooler" now). <br />
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Yeah, that's all I got. Now I'm going to go stare at pretty pictures on Pinterest.<br />
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<span style="color: #134f5c;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;"><b>Heart: Kimberellie</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #45818e;">outfit details:</span></div>
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<span style="color: #45818e;">shoes, thrifted: $8</span></div>
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<span style="color: #45818e;">leather jacket, danier: $350</span></div>
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<span style="color: #45818e;">tights: $5</span></div>
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<span style="color: #45818e;">dress, BCBG: $11 (this dress is silk and was a total STEAL. It's from Winners (tj max in the US) and it was super on sale down from 100 or so AND the original price tag was on it...$298...I kid you not...I almost feel guilty wearing it about so casually!)</span></div>
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<span style="color: #45818e;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #45818e;">I'm drinking Earl Grey tea with vanilla right now. You should try it. It's like a pretend London Fog. It's awesome.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #45818e;">"awesome" count: 3</span></div>
<br />Kimberelliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16590867490999668892noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4513412461776850756.post-40126426312602368512012-05-06T20:09:00.002-07:002012-05-06T20:09:59.039-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<br />
it really does.<br />
<br />
another thing that makes me happy: <a href="http://www.daniellesplace.com/html/SockCraftsforKids.html" target="_blank">sock animals.</a> That's right. Click on the link and find out how to make animals from your socks (the ones that refused to be eaten by the dryer and continue to haunt your sock drawer and look at you accusingly whenever you refuse to wear them in mismatched pairs).Kimberelliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16590867490999668892noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4513412461776850756.post-38162279062309089172012-04-16T17:26:00.000-07:002012-04-16T18:03:49.982-07:00Should I change my name?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Okay, so here's my dilemma: I like my name. To make things less complicated, I am going to mention right off that my name is NOT Kimberellie. It's Kimberly. Kimberellie is a nickname (which I also like). But it isn't my name.<br />
<br />
Here's another nickname: Kim.<br />
<br />
Yes. It isn't the name on my birth certificate. So that makes it a nickname. And therein lies the problem: I don't like it. I mean, okay, I sort of like it. I don't mind it. I certianly don't like "Kim" as much as I like Kimberly. It has a syllable problem; there's only one. So why don't I just ask people to call me Kimberly, you ask?<br />
<br />
Well, being that I quite LIKE the name Kimberly, this should solve the problem of the less than exhilarating "Kim". Well, it doesn't. You see, the problem is, when people call me Kimberly it just seems SO personal. I mean not "personal" like we're besties, but certainly as personal as if we're friends. This is why I introduce myself to people as Kim: to avoid the shock of someone I don't even know calling me Kimberly, as if they were almost my bestie. But see: sometimes I <i>do</i> become besties with former strangers...or at least friends. Only, they then CONTINUE to call me Kim! <br />
<br />
Anyway, this leaves me precious few people who call my Kimberly. Really it is only a few family members and my husband (who actually more often calls me "Kimbee" which is not something I want anyone EXCEPT family and actual besties calling me...you've been warned).<br />
<br />
So I have come up with a solution to my HUGE problem (that was sarcasm...really I'm just writing because I like to hear the sound of my own voice).* The solution is thus: I shall introduce myself as an ENTIRELY different name altogether. That way, if any stranger DOES become a friend I can tell him/her to call my "Kimberly" at that point. You see, this doesn't work when I start off as "Kim" because people are lazy slackers and will continue to monosyllable me regardless of my preferences even if they change.<br />
<br />
BUT, if I start of as say, "Georgina" and then switch to "Kimberly" backsliding won't come nearly so naturally. Also, it will be a great way to tell if people really do want to be my friends as I will seem quite crazy at this point.<br />
<br />
<br />
So here's where you come in. I need help picking out a new "introductory name". Here's my short-list:<br />
<br />
1. Georgina (the husband suggested this. I think he was kidding. But I like it).<br />
2. Paige (it's only one syllable but look at those side by side vowels!)<br />
3. Henrietta<br />
4. Audrey<br />
5. Adelaide<br />
6. Lisette<br />
6. Prudence<br />
7. Rosalind<br />
<br />
Anyway, let me know what you like best! Also, do YOU like the shortened for of your name? Should I call you Henrietta?<br />
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<span style="color: #45818e;"><b>Heart: Kimberellie/Rosalind</b></span><br />
<span style="color: #45818e;"><br /></span><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="color: #45818e;"><b>outfit details:</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #45818e;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="color: #45818e;">dress, gap: $8</span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="color: #45818e;">shoes, vintage: $8</span></div>
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<span style="color: #45818e;">stockings, vintage (NEW in pack): $1</span></div>
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<span style="color: #45818e;">belt, jacob: $20</span></div>
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<span style="color: #45818e;">leather jacket, danier: $350</span></div>
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*I always speak out loud when writing (because my voice is so melodious).<br />
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<br />Kimberelliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16590867490999668892noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4513412461776850756.post-57428230570043070302012-04-11T19:56:00.000-07:002012-04-11T19:56:14.425-07:00We have a crawler on our hands! and floor!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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So baby V took her first "crawl" today. It was pretty much cuteness personified in the crawlness of her little leggies and all that moving forwardness. I'm pretty stoked. I think she was interested in being earlier than average (9 months is average) and she'll be 9 months in a few days; or more likely she just really wanted my car keys (the "crawl goal"). <br />
<br />
My son crawled at 7 months...but he did the commando crawl (dragging his belly like a commando). Baby V has decided on the "traditional crawl"; I figure she is either too elegant for the commando crawl, or her belly is just too big!. Anyway, it's awesome because I think crawling babies are cute. I like to watch the cute little bums of cute little crawlers.<br />
<br />
Oh, and so this post isn't excruciatingly mundane (or maybe I'll be making it worse) I thought I would tell you some of Violet's nicknames:<br />
<br />
Baby Girl<br />
Baby V<br />
V<br />
Vi<br />
Chubba Bubba<br />
Kitten<br />
Pokah Bear<br />
Biddy Boo<br />
<br />
I like to nickname.<br />
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<span style="color: #45818e;"><b>Heart: Kimberellie</b></span><br />
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ps. she's not as blond as she looks here. In fact, she's brunette. For some reason she looks quite golden in this pic...probably the photo filter.<br />
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<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="color: #134f5c;"><b>outfit details:</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">pink onsie dress, old navy: $5</span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">diaper, superstore: 170 for $25</span>
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<br />Kimberelliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16590867490999668892noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4513412461776850756.post-69155468812954972272012-04-08T23:02:00.004-07:002012-04-08T23:11:23.070-07:00Don't throw books, ONLY throw balls!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7082/7059171031_81de2c4591_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7082/7059171031_81de2c4591_b.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7082/6913078558_e1c1d94c6b_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7082/6913078558_e1c1d94c6b_b.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>This is the first in a series of posts hereafter aptly titled: "What I'm Reading, Yo".<br />
<br />
Yo. Here's what I'm reading: <a href="http://www.amazon.ca/Dreams-Joy-Novel-Lisa-See/dp/140006712X" target="_blank">Dreams of Joy</a> by Lisa See. Now here's the problem: it's a sequel. Yes, I hate sequels, they make me want to cry and scream and possibly throw things. Wait a minute, that's not true. I LOVE sequels. I love trilogies. I love series-eys, I love BOOKS. So that <i>can't </i>be the problem. But I'll tell you what is: the first book.<br />
<br />
The first book, Shanghai Girls <i>I loved. </i> I really did. Also I hated it. You see, there was this really really sad part. And when I read it, I had to throw it across the room. I had to. You'd have understood if you were there watching me read.<br />
<br />
The problem isn't that I'm a reformed book thrower (I'm not, throwing books is one of the chief pleasures in my life). The problem is: I'm reading the sequel on my e-reader. I'm sure you can put two and two together: I don't want to throw my Kobo. As my three year old son would say: "That would be TRAGICAL!"<br />
<br />
I'll let you know how it goes (whether I am forced to throw it or not). <br />
<br />
I wonder if: "thrown in a fit of fury" is covered by Kobo's warranty? I think it would be funny to call and ask.<br />
<br />
"Oh hello! Yes, I had a question: Is "Thrown in a fit of fury" covered by my warranty?"<br />
"Pardon ma'am?"<br />
"I threw my Kobo. Is that covered? I can assure you, it wasn't an over-reaction."<br />
"Were you reading the fourth book in the Twilight series?"<br />
"No. It was a Lisa See novel."<br />
"In that case, sorry. No. But I am authorized to put a ten dollar credit on your account to go toward your next e-book purchase."<br />
"But my Kobo is smashed!"<br />
"Ma'am, I have to take a piss now." click.*<br />
<br />
Yep. That's how it would go down.<br />
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</b><br />
<h3><b><span style="color: #45818e;">Heart: Kimberellie</span></b></h3><br />
<div style="text-align: right;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><b>outfit details:</b></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="color: #45818e;">hat, men's Gap: $22</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="color: #45818e;">boyfriend jeans, buffalo: $8 </span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="color: #45818e;">shirt, Gap: $7</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="color: #45818e;">shoes, vintage: $8</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="color: #45818e;">bracelet, tiffany & co.: gift from my husband</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #134f5c;">*don't you hate it when people call you "ma'am"? It makes me want to slap the offending person silly. <i>Or throw an e-reader at them.</i> Have YOU ever thrown a book? I can't be the only one. If so, do tell: which book?</span></div>Kimberelliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16590867490999668892noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4513412461776850756.post-50154724822405017522012-04-04T17:32:00.002-07:002012-04-04T17:34:22.059-07:00nonsense and vintage what I did today<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm5.staticflickr.com/4028/4408157866_3fcaa362b4_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://farm5.staticflickr.com/4028/4408157866_3fcaa362b4_b.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Wednesday:<br />
<br />
garbage day<br />
<br />
day in the middle of the week day<br />
<br />
I went to the park. I went to the baby group/kid group (strong start). There were snacks.<br />
<br />
My tights got a MILLION runs in them. It was crazy. I am not made for tights. Or maybe I should just buy better made tights.<br />
<br />
I went to Tim Hortons. The kidlets and I ate bagels. They didn't have an jalapeno bagels. bastards. That was a bad word. Don't tell on me.<br />
<br />
I'm a blog-a-man-iac. <br />
<br />
Sometimes I spend the whole day in my pajamas. Don't get any misconceptions.<br />
<b style="color: #45818e;"><br />
</b><br />
<b style="color: #45818e;">heart: Kimberellie</b><br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #45818e;">the photo is from 2 and a half years ago. I still own every article of clothing. I think that's awesome. I'm going to do this sometimes, post old pictures. Because I'm fly like that.</span></div>Kimberelliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16590867490999668892noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4513412461776850756.post-42679939423225865942012-04-03T22:58:00.002-07:002012-04-04T17:22:31.223-07:00I'm trying to think of a really clever nonsensical title. BATMAN!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7186/6919750889_310b7bc3b4_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7186/6919750889_310b7bc3b4_b.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7177/6773637678_57dc8e34ee_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7177/6773637678_57dc8e34ee_b.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7030/6502850215_798ce83276_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7030/6502850215_798ce83276_b.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I can't decide what I want to do with my blog. But I do know what I don't want:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">1. I don't want to spend more than a half an hour a day on anything blog related.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">2. I don't ever want my blog to become wildly popular (I know, this may SEEM strange; but it isn't. I'm lazy/busy/selfish(?). And the less people who care/pay attention to my blog, the more I can be a slacker/do whatever I want)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The thing is, I want to post stuff. Stuff I write, stuff I think about, photos of clothes with me in them. Pictures of my kidlets. I don't know, STUFF. I don't want to have a purpose, point, or action plan. I don't want to be involved in blogger communities, or have sponsors (unless people are begging to give me free stuff, <i>than by all means</i>). BUT you know, I don't want it to be WORK. Not work in any shape or form or what have you. They key here is <i>laziness</i> people. It's a "must-have".</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">You see, I just want to occupy my little part of the interweb selfishly and aimlessly. And if anyone wants to come along for the ride (which may or may not come to a grinding halt suddenly and without warning): welcome. But be forewarned: I am doing this strictly to amuse myself. There will be no naked photos.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><span style="color: #45818e;">heart: Kimberellie</span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><span style="color: #45818e;"><br />
</span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><b><span style="color: #45818e;">photos:</span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><b><span style="color: #45818e;">a. vintage, never worn: $10</span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><b><span style="color: #45818e;">b. it's a zebra. really.</span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><b><span style="color: #45818e;">c. when toys come alive I take pictures.</span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><b><span style="color: #45818e;"><br />
</span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><span style="color: #45818e;">ps. I'm on <a href="http://www.facebook.com/KimberellieMissFurnellie" target="_blank">Facebook</a> now. Well, as a page. Not as a me, but as Kimberellie (she's my alter-ego). I figure this way all my non-blogging peeps can know when I post, yo.</span></b></div>Kimberelliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16590867490999668892noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4513412461776850756.post-32609435806116967462012-04-01T22:10:00.003-07:002012-04-02T20:50:31.141-07:00This post could also be titled: "How I take my jacket off"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm7.staticflickr.com/6234/6891635672_4394287512_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://farm7.staticflickr.com/6234/6891635672_4394287512_b.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7245/7037732111_6c150131e2_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7245/7037732111_6c150131e2_b.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm7.staticflickr.com/6031/7037733709_a43055e94b_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://farm7.staticflickr.com/6031/7037733709_a43055e94b_b.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And that's how you take a jacket off. And then you can just hold it like so: *</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm7.staticflickr.com/6031/7037728207_345de1af5d_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://farm7.staticflickr.com/6031/7037728207_345de1af5d_b.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>THIS sweater. I LOVES it. Seriously, love with an S. That's how I feel. Sometimes I bring it into bed with me; and we snuggle. The husband got it for me for Valentine's Day (yes, that stupid day that no one who is IN a relationship cares about but is somehow very important when you are NOT in a relationship and in the end, for me, is just an excuse to get a present).<br />
<br />
A little more about the jacket: it's more of a sweater. A sweater jacket. It's 100% wool, hand spun, hand knitted. The wool isn't over-processed so it retains a lot of its original lanolin making it water-proof. And it's really really warm. It's called a Cowichan Sweater (made by the Cowichan native people on the island I live on...now you can use your smarts and figure out what island I live on). Mine is fun because it is hand numbered and registered and not a cheap knock-off (not that I don't like cheap things...I do...but in this case real is better). <br />
<br />
Anyway...because you wanted to know ALL about the sweater. I know you did. <i> I just have wanted one forever!</i> And you know how that is? Like a Chanel 2.55. I want one. One day. I told my husband to get me one for my fortieth.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>We are going to have to start saving tomorrow.<br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
<b><span style="color: #6aa84f;">Heart: Kimberellie</span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: #ea9999;"><br />
</span></b><br />
ps. I totally got this Gap sweater for 12 bucks. And then I looked under all the sticky price tags to see the original price: 64.95. I think 64.95 for this sweater is a lot of bullsh__t.<br />
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pps: I'm smiling at my children in the photos. Baby Violet seemed especially pleased that I was having my picture taken. <br />
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<div style="text-align: right;"><b><span style="color: #6aa84f;">outfit details:</span></b></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;"><a href="http://cowichantrading.com/" target="_blank">cowichan sweater</a>: gift from tall handsome man</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;">skirt: gap $10 (?) or 5, can't recall</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;">sweater: gap $12</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;">tights: I don't know. cheap.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;">shoes: vintage $8</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div>*actually, it took a bit to figure out how to hold it. Holding sweaters is not my forte.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Kimberelliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16590867490999668892noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4513412461776850756.post-85617726622184770662012-03-13T12:10:00.001-07:002012-03-13T13:01:10.980-07:00I quit Facebook. You I still love.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7058/6919740465_fff004487d_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7058/6919740465_fff004487d_b.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I wanted to drop everyone a quick line.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">1. I quit Facebook. I didn't "unfriend" you. I love you. All of you: those of you who have asked me if I unfriended you, and those of you who just assumed I did. I loveale uvale you.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">2. But now I have to go. I have no time. I have one hour a day to myself. That hour isn't now. seriously, chaos has erupted. gotta go.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div>Kimberelliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16590867490999668892noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4513412461776850756.post-37448505561664448392011-11-11T12:53:00.000-08:002011-11-11T12:53:25.597-08:00I am going to try to blog once a week<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6220/6334886469_ae006f7c51_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6220/6334886469_ae006f7c51_b.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Isn't she adorable? I think so. Fashionable, adorable, MINE. Yep, mine. And she'd better not forget that when I attempt to arrange her marriage. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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Not only is she adorable, but she apparently has no qualms showing off her bloomers.Kimberelliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16590867490999668892noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4513412461776850756.post-80729361026437720712011-08-26T17:21:00.000-07:002011-08-26T17:58:41.720-07:00Pregnancy Review & I still like you but I just can't talk right now<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6185/6083658149_1a3675780d_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6185/6083658149_1a3675780d_b.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">There are just TONS of photos I didn't post while I was pregnant. But they were taken; which should actually be quite apparent to you as you had to scroll through them all to get to this sentence. But yeah...I pretty much rocked pregnancy. I'm not too particular about the blue dress with the leggings...well, I like the clothes, but I'm not too particular about the pictures. I just wanted to show you how gigantic I got. Also, I like how in the very last pic it really looks like I'm holding a ball!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And yes, I KNOW I promised you my postpartum style. And I will. Soon. Maybe. But FIRST--a disclaimer, namely: I can't comment. I can't. I can't comment back if people ask a question. I just don't have the time for it. I barely have time to blog!</div><br />
So I have been thinking about this, and I thought: well, I could just disable comments on my blog so people don't think I'm some "too good to comment back more stylish than thou" blogger. But then I thought: "But no, that won't do. Don't I hate it when I can't comment on other people's blogs?" And of course I do. Because when I don't have a baby in my arms I can't help but add my two cents. <br />
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But you see, I almost always have a baby in my arms. Or laundry. Or spit up all over me (how that stops me from commenting on other people's blogs is beyond me...I just figured you were interested). So here's the deal kittens: I don't talk back. I heart you. But I haven't the time. So if this bothers you and makes you feel like you are talking into space (is this an expression? is this the expression I'm looking for?), or if it makes you feel like I'm a big snob, then you can just commence to ignore me--close your eyes and click your merry way somewhere else in the blog world. I don't mind. I promise. I won't be offended. I won't cry.<br />
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It's not that I don't visit you though (as you may notice by my ever so infrequent two word comments, no capital letters, no punctuation). They are one handed visits. Most often my right hand. The other hand is holding onto a baby. I guess it isn't really my hand that is visiting you (like Thing in that show...or is it "It"?). I digress (am I using this expression correctly?).<br />
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This post is degenerating into nonsense. Let's sum up:<br />
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1. I post.<br />
2. I don't comment back because I am busy with kidlets...not because I'm a b----- (just guess).<br />
3. I like you.<br />
4. I want chocolate.<br />
5. Umm...that's it. Wish I could be a better blog friend. I do! I do! But I can't.<br />
6. Maybe I'll eat some chocolate chips.<br />
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Heart: K (See? I don't even have enough time to write my full name...wait a minute...umm...don't think too hard about this last little bit).Kimberelliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16590867490999668892noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4513412461776850756.post-13368125398567845182011-07-23T14:52:00.000-07:002011-07-23T14:54:21.488-07:00Mommy's Little Dress-up Doll<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6006/5968253522_3a7cea0fbe_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6006/5968253522_3a7cea0fbe_b.jpg" width="456" /></a></div>This is my daughter's first dress. OH! How I love those words: "my daughter". I think every girl imagines having a daughter one day (or well, most girls). Certainly I imagined it. And so when I had my son first it was surprising to me that I could no longer imagine loving a daughter. I was just so (and still am) enamored with him. <br />
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<b>"Why would anyone want a daughter when they could have a son?" I wondered.</b><br />
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But now that I have a daughter as well, all my former mother-daughter imaginings have come to full bloom; and my mind and heart are full of anticipated joys: prom, french braids, barrettes, mother daughter spa days, doing our nails, shopping (if she doesn't like shopping I may cry), little dresses, her wedding!. Oh yes, I'm EXCITED. I guess because I am a daughter myself I can imagine so much more than I can with my son. I've never been a son. My heart for his future is full of joy, yes; but it so harder to imagine his perspective. So it is exciting to be a mother to a daughter. <br />
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A friend recently asked me who I loved more. And the question startled me. I hadn't thought of that. She pointed out that I had known Soren longer, and I knew more about him, so shouldn't I love him more? And in some ways you would think that would be true. I remember falling in love with Soren (and still I do) every couple of months all over again as he grew older and became more (and there was more of him to love). Yet as logical as it would be, I don't love him more than her. <br />
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You see, I love Soren more now that Violet is born. And I love Violet more because of the love I already have for Soren. In fact, I love everyone more. I love you more. I love perfect strangers more. I love my husband more. I love God more. I just love<i> more.</i> My heart has widened beyond what I knew possible. It's like when I fell in love with my husband: it opened my heart up to everyone and everything. And now that I have THREE (!) very favourite peopl<i>e</i>, my heart is even wider.<br />
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I think true love is like this. It isn't exclusive. It never comes at the cost of another love. Any real love will cause every other love you have (of anything at all, be it painting or people) to expand. So there is never any comparison. <br />
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I love each child more because I love the other. And it's wonderful.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6020/5968256586_7c2bfca14d_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6020/5968256586_7c2bfca14d_b.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #674ea7;">dress: carters, gift from marilynn</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #674ea7;">cardigan: please mum, gift from auntie crystal</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #674ea7;">tights, gap: 2.99</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #674ea7;">booties: were my husband's when he was a baby</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #674ea7;">quilt: made by nana (husband's mom)</span></div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #674ea7;">Heart:</span></b> KimberellieKimberelliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16590867490999668892noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4513412461776850756.post-69523779345535109602011-07-20T18:32:00.000-07:002011-07-20T20:47:11.477-07:008lbs 9oz of CUTE!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6024/5959754554_39d86f84be_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6024/5959754554_39d86f84be_b.jpg" width="456" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #674ea7;"><b>Violet Louise Furnell 8lbs 9oz July 15th dark brown hair--BEAUTIFUL</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #674ea7;"><b><br />
</b></span></div>Well, this will have to be a short post considering I have a baby on my chest.<br />
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Violet Louise Furnell(ie) arrived in the world at 2:36 am after 1.5 hours of active labour and 45 minutes of pushing (because you want to know this right?). Well, I am telling you anyway. Because I am darn proud of myself! She came out sunny side up (they are not supposed to come out this way!). And yes, apparently I did an awesome job because sunny side up babies usually end up in emergency c-sections. At one point I remember someone saying something about "assistance" (ie. vacuum or forceps) to which I said: "No f___ing way!" At the time I didn't know she was sunny side up so I had no idea why they would even be suggesting this. And yes, I had the epidural. And it was WONDERFUL (all you ladies who have had "natural labours" props to you...but I couldn't bear it...it was unbearable...even though it was my goal...still my accomplishment is not diminished! So all you ladies who have yet to have babies--don't think your accomplishment is any less no matter how you do it: c-section, assistance, epidural, etc...we all still rock).<br />
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But yes. I am triumphant birther, life giver extraordinaire. It was quite a contrast with my son's birth which was LONG (13 hours hard labour) and excruciating. So I feel pretty fricken' empowered. Not to mention they didn't turn the epidural off without telling me this time! So yes. It was a truly wonderful experience. But all second time moms: get your bumps to the hospital asap. Unlike me...who waited too long...because heck, one and a half hours? That's a BIG difference from 13.<br />
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And as for baby Violet? She is AMAZING. She SLEEPS. Seriously, 5-7 hour stretches at night. And she's only 6 days old! And don't worry, she's still gaining weight...twice as much as she needs to actually. But yes, also don't hate me too much: I've paid my dues. My son would wake every 2 hours at night to nurse for the first TWO months (and after that not much better). I recall my fervent wish when he was little was to sleep for JUST three hours in a row...please...please...please. Not to mention that he didn't start sleeping through the night until he was 25(!) months. So yes...if your child doesn't sleep, maybe your next will. And no matter what anyone tells you, it isn't your parenting. Because I haven't done anything differently.<br />
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Well, one thing I did differently was pray my entire pregnancy that "please please please may she just SLEEP!" and "please please please may my labour be EASIER!" So yes. It worked. Props to God. ;-)<br />
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Well, that was actually rather long. But I think I am just so darned excited. And I am so incredibly in love with this little girl. My heart is full. I am very very grateful. And I know how very blessed I am to have two beautiful healthy children.<br />
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Heart: Kimberellie (with a baby in her arms)<br />
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ps. in the picture she is only four hours old.Kimberelliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16590867490999668892noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4513412461776850756.post-45649175326888831122011-07-10T22:54:00.000-07:002011-07-10T22:54:15.559-07:00we made baby hats.The husband and I. He did the basic hat. I did the embellishments. I have two days until my due date. Due dates, I learned with my son, mean nothing. If you are ever pregnant you will want to know this. Nonetheless, we made hats. Here they are! That's Bigbaby in the third and fourth photos. She wanted to try them on. We're not especially creative with baby doll names in our house! We have, Babybaby, Bigbaby, and Baby Zee Zee. Bigbaby is really big. Ummm....I think I'm too tired to blog.<br />
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</div>ps. thanks for all your sweet comments on my last post! Except of course whoever just said: "u r huge". Which was probably one of my brothers. So I am not offended. But nonetheless, not really what a pregnant woman wants to hear. I know it was one of you. I KNOW!Kimberelliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16590867490999668892noreply@blogger.com11