<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770</id><updated>2012-02-13T09:46:58.118-05:00</updated><category term='teamwork'/><category term='children'/><category term='Shire of Sylvan Glen'/><category term='The Bower'/><category term='Angel'/><category term='4-H'/><category term='pennsic war'/><category term='photography'/><category term='knights'/><category term='foster parents'/><category term='foster children'/><category term='SCA'/><category term='Horse'/><category term='water fall'/><category term='Siege of Glengary'/><category term='Strength'/><category term='Karate'/><category term='foster care'/><category term='Shenandoah National Park'/><category term='Ponies'/><category term='Special Needs'/><category term='Quote'/><category term='midieval reenactment'/><category term='Blue Heron Dojo'/><category term='hurt children'/><category term='Courage'/><category term='blessings'/><category term='medieval encampment'/><category term='Sensei Feldman'/><category term='Board Breaking'/><category term='sacrifice'/><category term='pennsic 37'/><category term='family'/><category term='Peace'/><category term='Faith'/><category term='Blue Heron'/><category term='armor'/><category term='Saddles and Smiles'/><category term='love'/><category term='adoption'/><category term='Renaissance reenactment'/><title type='text'>The Journey</title><subtitle type='html'>It's not so much the destination that matters but, rather the journey and who you meet along the way.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>94</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-4145675374708541304</id><published>2008-12-19T21:49:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-19T22:21:24.817-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Special Angels</title><content type='html'>I haven't the slightest clue where the stone in the path came from. It was just there beneath my feet, and the next thing I knew I was on my knees in the dust. I sat there sore and bruised wondering if I should get up and keep going or if maybe I should just sit and wallow in my misery for a little while. I really didn't feel like moving on. It seemed, at that moment, like it would be much easier and less painful to just sit and nurse my wounds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About the time I had myself convinced that moving would be more than I could possibly deal with, an angel appeared and knelt beside me. She spoke only a few words, helped me to my feet, dusted me off and was gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked at the road before me, so much beauty and joy lay ahead. So many things to see, people to meet and pleasures to savor. I looked down the rock that had caused me so much trouble, so much pain and realized how small and insignificant it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good friends, angels when you don't even know you need one. Giving just what you need, just when you need it the most.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-4145675374708541304?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/4145675374708541304/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=4145675374708541304' title='19 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/4145675374708541304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/4145675374708541304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2008/12/special-angels.html' title='Special Angels'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>19</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-8074069145978658496</id><published>2008-12-05T07:27:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-05T08:36:48.281-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The road that leads to forever...</title><content type='html'>"What do you want" he asked? "What would make you happy"? I cringe when passing the wedding section of the party store or the wedding planners shop down town. How could he even think the idea of being married would appeal to me? I stared at my dinner, now cold and very unappealing. I poked at it and twisted the pasta on my fork. "You and our family" was my response. My eyes welled up and I looked at him looking at me. His gaze was intense and penetrated straight into my heart. I explained how I was opposed to the idea of weddings that came from a can and being married because it seemed the thing to do. But, the idea of declaring my love and faith fullness to him for all time and sharing the rest of my life with him as his wife would be a wonderful thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He turned my chair to face his and grasped both my hands. His gaze never faltered and his words were strong, "will you marry me"? The shock that went though me numbed me for a second and I felt like I was looking down at myself sitting there, facing my love with his hands wrapped around mine. I thought he might be joking or just asking if that was something I wanted in the future. When I realized he was truly asking me to be his wife my response was a resounding "yes, now and forever yes".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later he took a ring and placed it gently on my finger. It is beautiful beyond words and despite it being made of candy I can want no other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart is full to the point of over flowing. He is a dream made real, my missing half now found and we have forever before us to enjoy whatever adventures come our way.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276298774251777602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/STktx7gbLkI/AAAAAAAAE1c/dXWn_Bw83gw/s320/DSC07585.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-8074069145978658496?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/8074069145978658496/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=8074069145978658496' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/8074069145978658496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/8074069145978658496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2008/12/road-that-leads-to-forever.html' title='The road that leads to forever...'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/STktx7gbLkI/AAAAAAAAE1c/dXWn_Bw83gw/s72-c/DSC07585.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-6626265515707401852</id><published>2008-11-25T20:12:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-25T21:01:06.493-05:00</updated><title type='text'>And The Journey Goes On</title><content type='html'>I was sitting and thinking of how to write about all that I have lost and then found in the past year. As I pondered this I realized that I have in fact lost nothing and found and entirely new world and life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have found that my faith is greater than ever because I had to take the time to look for it. My marriage of 15 years is over but born from the pain was the strength to step through the door that was opened in front of me. The door that led to a friend, partner and a love I had only dreamed of. I learned how to look for the blessings in the little things, how to not take even a minute for granted. I learned to love, to trust and to believe. I found friends I never new I had and how to let myself be loved by the ones that have always been there. I learned that just when I think I can't take another step forward a Divine power steps in and carries me... often in the form of a special angel sent at just the right moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is no starting over because I will never go back. It's just the next stone on the path, the next part of the journey. And, with The Tribe in tow and my Prince Charming at my side I eagerly await&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/SSyracwIm4I/AAAAAAAAE1U/3dDxj6TE3lo/s1600-h/DSC07405a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272777734627040130" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/SSyracwIm4I/AAAAAAAAE1U/3dDxj6TE3lo/s320/DSC07405a.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; the adventures that lie just around the bend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-6626265515707401852?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/6626265515707401852/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=6626265515707401852' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/6626265515707401852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/6626265515707401852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2008/11/and-journey-goes-on.html' title='And The Journey Goes On'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/SSyracwIm4I/AAAAAAAAE1U/3dDxj6TE3lo/s72-c/DSC07405a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-2015617428841662408</id><published>2008-11-24T20:42:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-24T21:08:10.961-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanksgiving Special</title><content type='html'>Since I was little I have loved Thanksgiving over all other holidays.  There were many years I wondered why, as I was just kind of treading water, not moving forward and certainly not finding much to be thankful for.  Time has shown me that many blessings are the unseen ones. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was little Thanksgiving was the one time when all the family was together.  It was a time to share stories, laughter and soak up the wondrous warmth that comes from being with those you love the most.  As years went by our family grew up and apart and Thanksgiving became a time of memories and warm thoughts of those that were close only in our hearts. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every year brings change, some good and some not so good.  This year has brought more changes than I could have ever imagined.  I have new friends, new family and a love that I thought could only happen in fairy tales.  This Thanksgiving is the first day of the rest of my life.  A life of dreams and magic and hope long lost.  A day to remember, reflect, laugh, love and bask in the warmth of family.  Those that are still not here in body, you are with me in spirit and the magic of the day will be yours too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-2015617428841662408?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/2015617428841662408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=2015617428841662408' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/2015617428841662408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/2015617428841662408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2008/11/thanksgiving-special.html' title='Thanksgiving Special'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-4333913487695394664</id><published>2008-08-11T19:29:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-11T20:32:51.509-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pennsic 37'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='medieval encampment'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pennsic war'/><title type='text'>Post Pennsic</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/SKDYUnQ58hI/AAAAAAAADS4/sQH0d_Mof24/s1600-h/DSC05726.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/SKDYUnQ58hI/AAAAAAAADS4/sQH0d_Mof24/s320/DSC05726.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233420615653388818" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/SKDYb0g4lRI/AAAAAAAADTA/EG70NkgvXk0/s1600-h/DSC05727.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/SKDYb0g4lRI/AAAAAAAADTA/EG70NkgvXk0/s320/DSC05727.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233420739469153554" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/SKDYcNXU9yI/AAAAAAAADTI/mAe4gWuT5og/s1600-h/DSC05783.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/SKDYcNXU9yI/AAAAAAAADTI/mAe4gWuT5og/s320/DSC05783.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233420746139957026" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/SKDYcpC3S9I/AAAAAAAADTQ/1PtepCn3Vuo/s1600-h/DSC05948.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/SKDYcpC3S9I/AAAAAAAADTQ/1PtepCn3Vuo/s320/DSC05948.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233420753570319314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mists swirled in the darkness and drum beats pounded in the distance.  The night was alive with flickering torches, and fires. Singing, laughter and random silliness abound.  It was a different world.  Someplace beyond imagining and yet it was real and I was there.  Pennsic in the daylight is a place if wonder at night it turns into a place beyond belief. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We arrived about mid-day on Saturday only to sit in the blazing sun for an hour waiting our turn to drive forward and wait another 45 minutes in line to check in.  Then the real fun began.  We set up camp in a flat barren field that a day later would be an entire city of small encampments with tents, pavilions, showers, kitchens, armor stands, and common areas.  Every where people worked to create their home for the next two weeks.  Before my eyes an new world unfolded like a beautiful butterfly emerging from her gray cocoon.  Banners and flags, medieval heraldry and thousands of people dressed in period garb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For two weeks the folks of our fair shire cooked, cleaned and laughed and worked together.  We started out as good friends and ended as a close family.  We fed royalty, sang songs, told stories and shared much.  We went to classes and fought for our kingdom on the battle field.  We spent time with old friends and made many of new ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The days were hot and the nights cool, sometimes even cold.  I laughed and sang more than I thought possible.  When it was time for good byes I wept bitter tears.  Words can't describe the roller coasters I rode, the feelings I felt.  By the final Sunday the tents were gone and we were packed to head home.  The magic had faded but I know it will be back next year.  And God willing I will be there to live it all again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-4333913487695394664?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/4333913487695394664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=4333913487695394664' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/4333913487695394664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/4333913487695394664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2008/08/post-pennsic.html' title='Post Pennsic'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/SKDYUnQ58hI/AAAAAAAADS4/sQH0d_Mof24/s72-c/DSC05726.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-8627108615849938747</id><published>2008-07-25T16:26:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-25T16:47:32.411-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hi Ho, Hi Ho, It's Off to War I Go....</title><content type='html'>G-ma asked me last night while a group of us swarmed around the house like bees in a clover patch why I hadn't posted in so long.  I guess it's because I just didn't have things sitting in my head wanting to be written down.  Don't get me wrong, tons of wonderful things have happened since my last entry.  Many that I should have written about.  They just weren't calling me to write about them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if was her asking or my brain spinning with excitement that has pulled my fingers to the keyboard but, here I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last year at this time I was out at the bower with my Gyps digging though her boxes of garb and helping her get ready to leave for the &lt;a href="http://www.pennsicwar.org/penn37/"&gt;Pennsic War&lt;/a&gt; held each year at Coopers Lake campground in Pennsylvania.  It's a huge two week medieval gathering, housing nearly 15,000 people.  There are classes on nearly everything one can imagine in the medieval world and and entire week of rattan smashing, shield crushing battles.  I wanted so badly to go and this year I get to.  But with a sad heart it's without my newly married, uber busy, rocking the world, Gyps. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My weapons, armor, garb and feast gear are packed.  In just a few hours Mouse and I pull out to go meet up with some of then many new friends I have made this past year.  I have the camera and will have many pictures to post when I get back in August.  I know I'm going to have the time of my life and my wonderful sister will be with me in spirit.  And when I return there will be many stories, pictures and presents to share!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-8627108615849938747?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/8627108615849938747/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=8627108615849938747' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/8627108615849938747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/8627108615849938747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2008/07/hi-ho-hi-ho-its-off-to-war-i-go.html' title='Hi Ho, Hi Ho, It&apos;s Off to War I Go....'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-4062911045481739487</id><published>2008-05-24T09:00:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-24T09:01:29.594-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Heavy Fighter Bling (cross post)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/SDgRotQe2VI/AAAAAAAACHE/CGq7bn1bWcA/s1600-h/DSC05288.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/SDgRotQe2VI/AAAAAAAACHE/CGq7bn1bWcA/s320/DSC05288.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5203928760467773778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many people have helped me, pushed me and smacked me into making my dream of becoming a heavy fighter in the SCA come true. My friend Walbach went a step further. He made my sword, gave me a shield that no longer worked for him and made me a new grip for it. He made me leg armor and he completely revamped my helm so that it fit properly and so I could actually see out of it. Walbach he is is kind of heart and gentle of spirit... oh and he kicks my butt often. My most precious piece of heavy fighting bling is the helm that he worked so hard to make pretty (the eyebrows rawk).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-4062911045481739487?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/4062911045481739487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=4062911045481739487' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/4062911045481739487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/4062911045481739487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2008/05/heavy-fighter-bling-cross-post.html' title='Heavy Fighter Bling (cross post)'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/SDgRotQe2VI/AAAAAAAACHE/CGq7bn1bWcA/s72-c/DSC05288.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-825137190354303390</id><published>2008-05-22T19:37:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-22T19:54:30.714-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Back to the Real World</title><content type='html'>A good friend told me it will take a least a week to get back into the swing of "mundane" life after being away at a large medieval event.  I think he was talking about an event lasting a week or more but I am struggling with the real world after being gone just three days.  Once away it was so easy to let go of the daily frustrations and issues.  When I was hungry I ate, when I was thirsty I drank and when I was tired I slept.  When I wanted company I was camped with a wonderful group of some of my best friends all I had to do was step out of my tent.  When I wanted to learn or see something new I went for a stroll about the camp ground and met wonderful new people that were more than willing to share their fire and teach any willing learner about their skills.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I am planning meals for nine, working out schedules and plotting out how to get everything done in a day that needs doing.  I have a stove and a dishwasher and I am expected to use it... cold bagels were fine with me, no clean up.  The phone is ringing and the entire tribe needs mom time.   I wouldn't trade my life for anything.  I am blessed beyond words and I'm so grateful for my family and all that is required to keep it going.  It's who I am and what I do.  But.... the escape was bliss.  Adult time with no "maaammmmm, I want, I need, get me" or even "wipe my butt".  When it was time to head home I was ready to go and home was where I wanted to be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, when do we leave for the next event???&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-825137190354303390?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/825137190354303390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=825137190354303390' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/825137190354303390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/825137190354303390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2008/05/back-to-real-world.html' title='Back to the Real World'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-4550438904294284623</id><published>2008-05-19T19:22:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-19T20:01:01.358-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Practice for War</title><content type='html'>Once a year for a two week period 10,000 people converge on a Pennsylvania camp ground for the &lt;a href="http://pennsic.org/"&gt;Pennsic War&lt;/a&gt;.  &lt;a href="http://sca.net/"&gt;SCA&lt;/a&gt; members and folks who just want to participate in recreating the beauty, romance and chivalry of the middle ages come together to learn, teach, dance, tell stories and to fight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This past weekend was the practice for this event.  Fighters from all over gathered together to test their skill and practice fighting as units.  Before being allowed to fight in anything other than practice novice fighters have to be tested and approved by two official marshals.  They must prove they know and understand the various rules and that they are not going to hurt themselves nor be a danger to others on the field of battle.  This weekend at this event my turn to authorize and prove myself worthy to join the ranks of the "big boys".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Authorizing really isn't a big thing.  As long as you can hit hard enough to be taken seriously and not so hard as to hurt someone you will pass.  But for me it was huge.  I have worked for eight months to learn as much as I possibly can.  An entire team of people have mentored me, guided me and pushed me to get me ready for my authorization.  This was my chance to prove that I had been listening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/SDIUMWrwPWI/AAAAAAAACGM/3tJ7Rj4YFH0/s1600-h/DSC05249.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/SDIUMWrwPWI/AAAAAAAACGM/3tJ7Rj4YFH0/s320/DSC05249.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5202242722046426466" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went through all the questions, faced off against my opponent and fought him with all I had.  I passed and I did good.  I'm a real heavy fighter now.  I get to play with the big boys and that is just what I did the rest of the day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm home and the tents are dry, the mud washed out of my gowns.   Now I'm just counting the days until the next battle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/SDIUL2rwPVI/AAAAAAAACGE/ach-aFsVpQA/s1600-h/DSC05254.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/SDIUL2rwPVI/AAAAAAAACGE/ach-aFsVpQA/s320/DSC05254.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5202242713456491858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-4550438904294284623?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/4550438904294284623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=4550438904294284623' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/4550438904294284623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/4550438904294284623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2008/05/practice-for-war.html' title='Practice for War'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/SDIUMWrwPWI/AAAAAAAACGM/3tJ7Rj4YFH0/s72-c/DSC05249.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-1752695799004233886</id><published>2008-03-06T12:47:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-06T13:07:23.930-05:00</updated><title type='text'>See Ya Soon Grandma</title><content type='html'>At 96 years old my Grandma was a spunky, tough little nut.  She wore her silver hair in plaits on each side of her head and loved to play with porcelain dolls.  She had a smile that lit up a room and was sweet as an angel, so long as she got the candy that the nurses at her home would sneak in for her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was a woman filled with the spirit and said she was planning to live to see Jesus come again.  At the time I know she meant in the flesh but on Tuesday we found that she had to settle for the Spirit.  She finally got tired, her mortal body could take no more and she gave in to the the peaceful rest that comes from living a good life, loving well and being loved and knowing her next vision was to be of her savior.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rest well Grandma.  I know that this isn't good-by, just see you soon.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" &gt;Grandma's 96th birthday, May 2007.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/R9AxVzDGOII/AAAAAAAACCM/pyODCbrO4TY/s1600-h/Copy+%285%29+of+P1010164.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/R9AxVzDGOII/AAAAAAAACCM/pyODCbrO4TY/s200/Copy+%285%29+of+P1010164.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5174690222398912642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EDNA EVERS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Edna J. Evers, 96, passed away Tuesday, March 4, 2008 at Chico Care Center. Edna was born on May 19, 1911 in Hamilton City to Albert and Tisha Gilmore. She graduated from Chico High School in 1929 and married Henry K. "Hank" Evers in Reno, NV on September 9, 1929. They resided in Stockton until 1942 when they returned to the Evers family ranch in Butte Creek Canyon. She stayed at the ranch until 1981 when her husband died and she then moved to Casa de Flores mobile home park in Chico. Edna is also preceded in death by her first son, Henry "Hank" Evers and her sister, Margaret Grater of Red Bluff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Edna is survived by her daughter, Kathleen (Denis) Beach of Green Spring, WV; son, Patrick (Janice) Evers of Pleasanton; daughter-in-law, Marilyn Evers of Chico; grandchildren, Denise Wenner of Harpers Ferry, WV, Troy Beach of Magalia, Karen Flatten of Greenville, SC, Julie Hagey of Penn Valley, Susan Evers McCauley and David Evers both of Chico and &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;19 great- grandchildren.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Edna's greatest love in life were her family, animals and her flowers. She always managed to find time to care for her very large garden of flowers, irises and roses being her favorite. She also loved needle work and did very fine embroidery, quilting and crocheting. In later years when she was not able to work with fine thread, she used yarn to crochet tops on towels to hang in the kitchen. At age 94, she was still producing eight towels daily. Her family and friends have distributed these towels country wide. Edna will always be loved and missed by those she left behind.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-1752695799004233886?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/1752695799004233886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=1752695799004233886' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/1752695799004233886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/1752695799004233886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2008/03/see-ya-soon-grandma.html' title='See Ya Soon Grandma'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/R9AxVzDGOII/AAAAAAAACCM/pyODCbrO4TY/s72-c/Copy+%285%29+of+P1010164.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-5136040578891313734</id><published>2008-02-26T06:26:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-26T08:58:42.978-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Return to the Arches</title><content type='html'>My first hiking adventure in Shenandoah National Park left me full of wonder and longing to return.  This time Gyps and I had the chance to share the beauty and peace we found while following the arches to glorious falls at the bottom of the canyon with those we love the most.  She and her new hubby, Wolf went on ahead while Todd, The Tribe and I followed behind at a much slower pace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/R8QUKvf8xdI/AAAAAAAACB8/eTu8r4_aqGI/s1600-h/DSC04899.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/R8QUKvf8xdI/AAAAAAAACB8/eTu8r4_aqGI/s200/DSC04899.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5171280446909892050" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was an amazing experience to watch them find all the treasures along the trail.  Tree stump dragons appeared before them only to be  squealed at and climbed upon. Their voices permeated the tranquility of the winter forest scape before us as each found new and exciting things at each bend in the trail.  And, as on my previous hike with Gyps, always before us and  leading us on were the arches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/R8QTpvf8xYI/AAAAAAAACBU/dXB5Enx20bk/s1600-h/DSC04866.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/R8QTpvf8xYI/AAAAAAAACBU/dXB5Enx20bk/s200/DSC04866.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5171279879974208898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The falls at the bottom were even more beautiful draped in their winter glory.  We longed to stay and visit with Gypsy and Wolf bur our visit had to be short.  We still had a passel of little legs to get a mile and a half up the side of the mountain before it got too cold.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/R8QTqPf8xZI/AAAAAAAACBc/Kdy2Kv4uEn8/s1600-h/DSC04880.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/R8QTqPf8xZI/AAAAAAAACBc/Kdy2Kv4uEn8/s200/DSC04880.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5171279888564143506" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/R8QTqvf8xaI/AAAAAAAACBk/qzEsWrbYTeQ/s1600-h/DSC04885.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/R8QTqvf8xaI/AAAAAAAACBk/qzEsWrbYTeQ/s200/DSC04885.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5171279897154078114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last mile if hike out was steep with the worst being the half mile at the very end.  BJ, being the smallest had to privilege of being carried on me or Todd's back most of the way out.  Nathan plodded along like the energizer bunny and Farm Boy took position as rear guard with ever a  stick or  branch (sword of course) in hand.   There were only a few grumbles as legs and lungs were pushed past the levels of comfort.  All pain was forgotten as we sought the warm comfort of the van, where we snacked on jerky, trail&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/R8QTrPf8xbI/AAAAAAAACBs/g7RHlmdxJJM/s1600-h/DSC04888.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/R8QTrPf8xbI/AAAAAAAACBs/g7RHlmdxJJM/s200/DSC04888.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5171279905744012722" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; mix, cheese nips and our water bottles.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/R8QTrPf8xcI/AAAAAAAACB0/4Wiu-ZQoOoY/s1600-h/DSC04891.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/R8QTrPf8xcI/AAAAAAAACB0/4Wiu-ZQoOoY/s200/DSC04891.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5171279905744012738" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The crowning glory of the day was sunset over the valley.  I have been witness to many a sunset and I feel certain this one was in the running for most amazing.  We got back to the villa tired and sore but with memories that would be with us forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/R8QUK_f8xeI/AAAAAAAACCE/P-4WYm1_usw/s1600-h/DSC04921.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/R8QUK_f8xeI/AAAAAAAACCE/P-4WYm1_usw/s200/DSC04921.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5171280451204859362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-5136040578891313734?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/5136040578891313734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=5136040578891313734' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/5136040578891313734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/5136040578891313734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2008/02/return-to-arches.html' title='Return to the Arches'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/R8QUKvf8xdI/AAAAAAAACB8/eTu8r4_aqGI/s72-c/DSC04899.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-1464886145304635032</id><published>2008-02-19T18:09:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-19T18:22:40.982-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Making Memories</title><content type='html'>I can't really say if Massanutten will ever be the same after being over run by the Tribe.  I can say that we will never be the same after a week in the mountains, (with a fireplace, hot tub and sauna of course).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just having time away from the everyday responsibilities of home, school and life in the winter as a family was amazing.  For a week we got to be just a regular family.  There were no appointments, visits, social workers, case workers, reports to file or logs to fill out.  We swam, hiked,  snow tubed and played.  We made memories that will last a life time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-1464886145304635032?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/1464886145304635032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=1464886145304635032' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/1464886145304635032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/1464886145304635032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2008/02/making-memories.html' title='Making Memories'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-1797840981101213371</id><published>2008-02-09T08:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-09T09:01:12.720-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tribal Adventures Forthcoming</title><content type='html'>Not only was WWW (wild womens weekend) this past September tons of fun, spiritually invigorating and  flat out amazing it also resulted in  us buying a time share.   Traveling with seven kids is not easy or cheap.  Add to that I really can't go too far for too long with out my Gyps and a time share just seemed to be the perfect solution.  So, the tribe, which now includes Auntie Gyps and Unkin Wolf are headed off an exciting adventure in the mountains of central Virginia. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have board games, swimming suites for the indoor heated pool, movies, hiking shoes and snow suites.  Finish the laundry and packing and we are outta here...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-1797840981101213371?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/1797840981101213371/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=1797840981101213371' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/1797840981101213371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/1797840981101213371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2008/02/tribal-adventures-forthcoming.html' title='Tribal Adventures Forthcoming'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-884655055852909353</id><published>2008-02-08T17:59:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-09T09:08:21.072-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happily Ever After</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/R6zfCy8fULI/AAAAAAAACAc/x-zS3OJtJbQ/s1600-h/weddingpic.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/R6zfCy8fULI/AAAAAAAACAc/x-zS3OJtJbQ/s320/weddingpic.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5164748111815332018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Happily ever after starts now".  ~Gyps on her wedding day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Princess Buttercup, eat your heart out.  My Gyps has found her Prince Charming, otherwise know as Wolf.  Yes, this was a kissing movie and they haven't stopped yet!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-884655055852909353?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/884655055852909353/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=884655055852909353' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/884655055852909353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/884655055852909353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2008/02/happily-ever-after.html' title='Happily Ever After'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/R6zfCy8fULI/AAAAAAAACAc/x-zS3OJtJbQ/s72-c/weddingpic.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-5659167994581257462</id><published>2008-02-08T17:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-08T17:47:14.935-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Only A Foster Parent</title><content type='html'>I was talking to my little sister who is currently being confronted with one of the many difficult and painful parts of being a foster parent.  She was in a very low mood and as she shared her story my heart broke for her.  As she got the conclusion she made the statement that was like a blow to the head.  "What else can I do, I'm only a foster parent? I can't even fight for him". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a woman that has dedicated her life to caring for broken innocent little ones that desperately need unconditional love.  She gives every part of herself to her children, those she birthed and those that were handed to her by a social worker.  She goes to court, meetings and works out visits.  She goes to doctors appointments, kisses hurts and loves away tears.  She is the a living representation of unconditional love but she is "only a foster parent".  She has no rights, no say, no voice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am angry, I feel her pain and the pain of my other dearest friends that live this day after day. So many that work so hard to do what is right knowing the pain and frustration that are part of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The seeds of unconditional love that have been planted in these children are the fruits of the labor.  We may not see them grow to be adults, we many not have any say in how they are raised or the choices they make.  All we can do is pray that they will remember they are special and that there are people out there that love them and gave all they had, even if it was only for a little while.  Then, maybe being "only a foster parent" will mean something.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-5659167994581257462?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/5659167994581257462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=5659167994581257462' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/5659167994581257462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/5659167994581257462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2008/02/only-foster-parent.html' title='Only A Foster Parent'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-8727646048248897074</id><published>2007-12-06T17:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-06T20:14:22.144-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Snow Day</title><content type='html'>At 6am we still had a two hour delay. Ahhh, I snuggled back under the comforter and back into a warm, fluffy, blissful sleep. At 7am I checked again and schools were closed. We had before us an official snow day! By 8:30 the Tribe was fed and we were out the door. Kids, cats, dogs, we all joined in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a day for kids to totally immerse themselves in the joy and purity of freshly fallen snow and childhood. It was a day for parents and grandparents to revel in the joy of family. It was just a totally awesome, amazing, blessed day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/R1idgZXEJ2I/AAAAAAAAB0U/_gsXLCW4MwU/s1600-h/DSC04531.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/R1idgZXEJ2I/AAAAAAAAB0U/_gsXLCW4MwU/s320/DSC04531.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141032154532423522" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grandma's Teddy Dog above, the Tribe below:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/R1idhZXEJ3I/AAAAAAAAB0c/tfFeKadvF2U/s1600-h/DSC04540.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/R1idhZXEJ3I/AAAAAAAAB0c/tfFeKadvF2U/s320/DSC04540.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141032171712292722" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/R1idhpXEJ4I/AAAAAAAAB0k/XoQarydtubI/s1600-h/DSC04535.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/R1idhpXEJ4I/AAAAAAAAB0k/XoQarydtubI/s320/DSC04535.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141032176007260034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/R1idiJXEJ5I/AAAAAAAAB0s/05VOjn1iCGQ/s1600-h/DSC04505.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/R1idiJXEJ5I/AAAAAAAAB0s/05VOjn1iCGQ/s320/DSC04505.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141032184597194642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-8727646048248897074?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/8727646048248897074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=8727646048248897074' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/8727646048248897074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/8727646048248897074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/12/snow-day.html' title='Snow Day'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/R1idgZXEJ2I/AAAAAAAAB0U/_gsXLCW4MwU/s72-c/DSC04531.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-131551722885265565</id><published>2007-12-01T20:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-06T20:25:20.230-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Marching Mouse</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/R1igxpXEJ7I/AAAAAAAAB08/RiI_1WYiDAY/s1600-h/DSC04499.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/R1igxpXEJ7I/AAAAAAAAB08/RiI_1WYiDAY/s320/DSC04499.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141035749420050354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In her first parade with the school band Mouse marched, and played and marched some more.  It sounded great and she didn't fall down, over the kid in front of her or throw up.  I think I would have done all three.  Way to go Mouse!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-131551722885265565?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/131551722885265565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=131551722885265565' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/131551722885265565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/131551722885265565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/12/marching-mouse.html' title='Marching Mouse'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/R1igxpXEJ7I/AAAAAAAAB08/RiI_1WYiDAY/s72-c/DSC04499.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-6040470682280414526</id><published>2007-12-01T15:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-06T20:26:30.311-05:00</updated><title type='text'>♥x♥x Tinkerbell - Who said ♥x♥x</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;param value="http://youtube.com/v/43ZDXU4hESI" name="movie"&gt;&lt;embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://youtube.com/v/43ZDXU4hESI" height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Another sent to me with a "look Mommy, it's you and your song". I guess though the eyes of my kids I can be 10 feet tall. Thanks guys.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-6040470682280414526?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/6040470682280414526/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=6040470682280414526' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/6040470682280414526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/6040470682280414526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/12/xx-tinkerbell-who-said-xx.html' title='♥x♥x Tinkerbell - Who said ♥x♥x'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-5438717015487784649</id><published>2007-11-27T17:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-27T17:52:18.625-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Where do I go now??</title><content type='html'>Each day seems to fly past even faster than the one before.  I know I posted a few times this month but I've only vague recollections of what I wrote.   Mom has been sick, in the hospital and is now home. My dearest Gyps is engaged to her prince charming and all her dreams are coming true.  Christmas is just around the corner and I'm still trying to figure out what street I'm on. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite all the chaos Thanksgiving was truly a day to give thanks for all the blessings of this past year.  The dishes are done, turkey is gone and the kids back in school.  I guess it's time to find a street sign and determine where I go next.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-5438717015487784649?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/5438717015487784649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=5438717015487784649' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/5438717015487784649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/5438717015487784649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/11/where-do-i-go-now.html' title='Where do I go now??'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-7874770386160197534</id><published>2007-11-13T20:09:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T20:09:36.232-05:00</updated><title type='text'>William Tell Mom Sayings</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/sXT6Hs113ZA' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/sXT6Hs113ZA'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The Mouse comes in and tells me I just have to see this... "It sounds exactly like you".  I listened, she is so right it's scary.  Thanks Mouse!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-7874770386160197534?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/7874770386160197534/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=7874770386160197534' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/7874770386160197534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/7874770386160197534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/11/william-tell-mom-sayings.html' title='William Tell Mom Sayings'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-6649954411935858767</id><published>2007-11-04T07:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-04T09:12:23.600-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Keeping the Past Alive</title><content type='html'>In the fall I ran the fields, climbed the trees and played in the barns.   The fruit trees, figs, wild plumbs, apples, persimmons, grapes, pomegranates, quince, pears, black berries and walnuts.  A bounty to be shared by all.  Wood was cut for winter fires and the sound of saws and ax permeated the crisp cool air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Winter in the hay loft and rain on the tin roof.  Wet and cold and mud.  Fire glow from the stove on the ceiling. The smell of Grandma cooking bacon and coffee in the morning on the wood cook stove.  Story after story of hard work, battles fought, cattle drives, love, death, joy and sadness.  Dinner at the big oak table when all the adults talked about the work done that day and what need doin' tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spring time brought baby calves with big brown eyes, sweet white faces and noses just made to meep, and new baby kittens in the wood shed.   Blankets of wild flowers covered the fields and meadows.  The new leaves on the trees made arches and canopies over the road that led to enchanted glades where fairies played.  My brother and I played cowboys and Indians, knights in armor, gold prospectors and hunted for caves to use as forts at the base of the cliffs.  Dreaming of the past was easy because there it was, so close, almost alive. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Summers were brutally hot.  Riding fence lines, turning the water in the fields, moving sprinkler pipe, dodging rattlers and dust, everywhere dust.  At night we fell asleep to the sounds of rainbirds in the fields, cowbells and mamma cows lowing to their calves.  Summer meant watermelons on Thursday afternoons, Ice cream and RC Cola.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was in early June, the day before my birthday, when they found Grandpa asleep under a walnut tree.  His old straw hat pulled down over his face, just taking a rest before supper.  Only this time he didn't wake up.   The ranch and his dream of it died with him but no one would admit it.  They moved on, working cattle, fixing fence, cleaning the ditch and growing kiwis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grandma moved to town and new people were brought in to "take care of things".  I grew up and moved away.  The fabric began to tear, history to fade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For 25 years they have been holding on.  My uncles, my mom, desperately trying stitch together the decaying fabric of a life long gone.  The sheds and barns are piles of rubble.  The fences down and fields dried and brown. The battle with the blackberries lost.   No pasture means no cows, no horses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now it's gone, nothing more to be done.  The land is safe in the ownership of a government agency.  The artifacts destroyed or stolen over the years.  The sounds of dogs barking when some one drives down the road.  Hoof beats and hollering as cattle are moved past. Squeaking gate hinges and the smell of hay, leather, irrigated fields and cow pies are all just memories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This started as a short listing of my memories of my Grandfather's California cattle ranch.  It has been in my mothers family for I believe five or six generations.  This past week it was sold.    As my thoughts turned into words on the page I realized my short list of memories has taken on a life of its own.  Memories fade over time and lie like the buildings and fences, the land  and the people, they are lost.  But words can carry on eternal. Written stories can stitch together the failing fabric of our past and create a legacy of remembrance for generations forward. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My children will never see the old wood cook stove,  the HUGE fire place with the iron cooking arms that was built out of quarts from the fields around the house, the barns, cattle shoots and roping pens, the paths I rode or the creeks I swam in.  Their eyes will never see but they will know the stories, feel the joy and the heart ache that comes from being part of a family that settled a land, loved it and became one with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mamma, for you I promise all that is left now will NOT be lost.  It can't be taken, sold or stolen.  It will live on forever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-6649954411935858767?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/6649954411935858767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=6649954411935858767' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/6649954411935858767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/6649954411935858767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/11/keeping-past-alive.html' title='Keeping the Past Alive'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-5943160954768776252</id><published>2007-11-04T03:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-04T03:21:45.642-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Autunm Sky Fire - Sunrise</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Ry1_zZ5bIQI/AAAAAAAABdc/_myEH8lAdSc/s1600-h/DSC04121.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Ry1_zZ5bIQI/AAAAAAAABdc/_myEH8lAdSc/s320/DSC04121.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128896071746658562" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-5943160954768776252?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/5943160954768776252/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=5943160954768776252' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/5943160954768776252'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/5943160954768776252'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/11/autunm-sky-fire-sunrise.html' title='Autunm Sky Fire - Sunrise'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Ry1_zZ5bIQI/AAAAAAAABdc/_myEH8lAdSc/s72-c/DSC04121.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-4298818701207002752</id><published>2007-11-04T02:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-04T03:08:57.050-05:00</updated><title type='text'>To my Newest Reader</title><content type='html'>02:00 in the morning, really it's 03:00 but we set the clocks back last night, I am awake just enough that I can't get my mind to shut off.  A million and one things spin through my head and my first response is hot tea and to write.  I wander down to the computer and am greeted my six new mail messages, all comments on my posts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I start to read my head clears a little and a bolt of lightning smacks me between they eyes.  My newest reader has held a special spot in my life for thirteen years.  She fills the world with joy and lightens a room with her contagious smile.  The day she was born my world changed forever.  I became an aunt, my brother a dad, my parents became grandparents and the world would never be the same.  The sun was a little brighter and the world was just a nice place to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the years to follow my brother and his wife would  increase the worlds population by two more.  Like their older sister they are amazing little bundles of joy, inquiry, wonder and love.  Of all the good things my little brother has done these guys are by far his best work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for reading Tay and thanks for the courage to comment.  You have always been a strong little girl, full of wisdom beyond your years.  Now I see you are growing into a power house of a young woman.  Don't be afraid to play hard, love big and strive for greatness.  If along the way you stumble, and you will, it's okay.  You have a family that loves you to pick you up, brush you off and send you back in for the next round.  If you do fall and it hurts we are here to hold you.  I love you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-4298818701207002752?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/4298818701207002752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=4298818701207002752' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/4298818701207002752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/4298818701207002752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/11/to-my-newest-reader.html' title='To my Newest Reader'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-6422360990846312856</id><published>2007-11-01T18:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-11-01T19:54:34.091-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Re: Introspection  (Fighting Back)</title><content type='html'>After posting to my blog I venture out to the ones I have been so negligent in reading the past few weeks.   I read though &lt;a href="http://thelaughinggypsy.blogspot.com/2007/10/introspection.html"&gt;Introspection  &lt;/a&gt;posted by my dearest Gyps.  I am cut to the core by her words and feel moved to comment.  But, as the comment progresses I see that it's just not enough to share my thought about her post with her...  it needs to go further.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How many little girls desperately need to hear "You are amazing, wonderus, strong beyond your belief. You deserve to be safe. Hold my hands, let's go into the darkness and find..." what ever fear they need to face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The world is full of "little girls" of all ages that have been beaten and broken by sticks, knives, fists, guns and worst of all words.  They  live their lives in a shadowed  land never seeing the vibrancy and colors of life as it's meant to be.  They are haunted by the evil that permeates their lives and may very well survive only as the shell of person they could be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom, my husband, my  friends, even my kids wonder why I love to fight.  Why a kind hearted woman that cries over Kodak commercials would find joy in learning to use strength, skill and a wooden sword to pound on a fence post, a punching bag, a tree, or a heavily armored person? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As women we are taught to love and nurture and when things hurt us we take the blow and don't let anyone see the bruise.  My world is full of children that have been broken by people that claim to love them.  I look at their scars,  let my heart feel their pain, but I'm not allowed to fight back.  I hear about the women, girls, sold into slavery, little girls that have their bodies mutilated or are murdered for their families honor  but can do nothing to help and only little to bring about change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I fight just to be able to fight.  In a safe, contained environment I can let the anger boil over, allow the rage to blast out.  When I get a bruise I am proud of it.  It hurt and I survived and don't have to be ashamed because I got it fighting back.  The fence, the tree, my opponent can be anything from the system, the governments, the abusers or those that would turn a deaf to the screams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Words are powerful.  People, even just one can bring about change but sometimes it just feels good to swing hard and let it connect!  Then take a hand and head into the darkness!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-6422360990846312856?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/6422360990846312856/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=6422360990846312856' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/6422360990846312856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/6422360990846312856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/11/re-introspection-fighting-back.html' title='Re: Introspection  (Fighting Back)'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-8887684006868649682</id><published>2007-11-01T18:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-11-01T18:28:10.686-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Finding Balance</title><content type='html'>Somewhere along the way I got tangled up in armor, swords, medieval garb, a new pony for grandma and the tribe and a few dozen other things.  The more I had to write about the less time I had to write.  Now, a month later I find myself with a new tabard of black and red, new armor (new to me anyway), a sword and shield to practice with and a new pony at the Bower.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;October was a month jam packed with goodies and joy.  Here I am on the first of November wanting to just sit and read the news paper.  A few hours maybe and then on to the next project.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Balance is taking a few minutes for a hot soak and to let the Advil permeate the blood stream and take the edge off the bruises before I go looking for the next adventure!  Look out November, Tink in on the move!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-8887684006868649682?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/8887684006868649682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=8887684006868649682' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/8887684006868649682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/8887684006868649682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/11/finding-balance.html' title='Finding Balance'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-1498127639302667340</id><published>2007-10-11T08:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-11T09:15:59.612-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Is it Autumn YET?</title><content type='html'>The top 5 ways to tell it's autumn (at least at my house):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#5 - five permission slips for field trips to the pumpkin patch come home from school in the same week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#4 - The pie pans call out from the cabinet... "take us out, use us".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#3 - My husband hauls up the crates with snow suites, hats, gloves and boots. I get to find gear that fits everyone, boots that are for a left and a right foot and then find a place to keep it out of the way until needed. **we are talking 7 snow suites, 14 boots, 14 gloves, 7 hats and that's just for the kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#2 - My fingers begin to itch and tingle telling me that I need to park my butt and work on stitching projects.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#1 - The critters start duking it out to determine who gets to sit on my lap and who just gets to sit against me. Man I love &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Autumn&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-1498127639302667340?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/1498127639302667340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=1498127639302667340' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/1498127639302667340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/1498127639302667340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/10/is-it-autumn-yet.html' title='Is it Autumn YET?'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-2581463633261275056</id><published>2007-10-08T20:24:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-08T20:24:54.898-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Clouds Birth of the Beat</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/cuN5JjGRz_o' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/cuN5JjGRz_o'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;This is my dad's perspective on clouds. Thanks for sharing Daddy!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-2581463633261275056?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/2581463633261275056/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=2581463633261275056' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/2581463633261275056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/2581463633261275056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/10/clouds-birth-of-beat.html' title='Clouds Birth of the Beat'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-5597064310501562476</id><published>2007-10-04T11:56:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-04T12:05:44.450-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Bee Tree</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RwUPPA86zeI/AAAAAAAAA_Q/fy_wP08IvwY/s1600-h/DSC03356.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5117513302204403170" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RwUPPA86zeI/AAAAAAAAA_Q/fy_wP08IvwY/s320/DSC03356.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"The Bee Song"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bees, Bees, Bees, Bees &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Buzzin' in bushes, buzzin' in trees &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Buzzin' around, wherever they please&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;There's nothing so sweet, There's nothing so sweet, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;There's nothing so sweet as a honey bee. Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;author unknown&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-5597064310501562476?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/5597064310501562476/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=5597064310501562476' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/5597064310501562476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/5597064310501562476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/10/bee-tree.html' title='The Bee Tree'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RwUPPA86zeI/AAAAAAAAA_Q/fy_wP08IvwY/s72-c/DSC03356.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-3648943067506757670</id><published>2007-10-04T07:32:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-04T09:18:03.733-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Angel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Horse'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Faith'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Peace'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Bower'/><title type='text'>Sweet Surrender</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;I am the parent, the adult and there I was ranting and raving like a loon. I wanted to have a big ole' fat tantrum, kick and scream and yell bad mean words. My anger welled up and I wanted to lash out. It seems that no matter how organized I am there are some mornings that we just can't get it together. Like a spoiled apple once one goes the rest are right behind. Yesterday was one of those mornings. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once the kids were at school and I was on the road to the Bower the pain and frustration hit with the force of a freight train. I questioned my calling, my life, my God. Was this really His plan? What would make me think that I could help these children? On and on I went berating myself, beating myself up, questioning my path and my faith.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pulled up at the Bower, cut the engine and stepped out of the truck. As I did a weight fell from my shoulders and I was able to take a deep breath for the first time all morning. I grabbed a halter and headed for the pasture. Beauty and an overwhelming feeling of peace surrounded me as I made my way thought the fields.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found my mare grazing in a wooded area with dappled sunlight sprinkling down on her. As I neared her she looked up at me with her soft brown eyes and walked toward me. When I was close she reached her nose out and leaned her head against me. As I rested my head on hers the last few dregs of pain and frustration drained away. I rested against my beautiful grey girl and just breathed. Her name, Angel's Gift, is really a description rather than a title. Thank you Gyps, my sister, my angel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John Denver sings in his song "Sweet Surrender" (one of my many favorites)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And I dont know what the future is holdin in store&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I dont know where Im goin, Im not sure where Ive been&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Theres a spirit that guides me, a light that shines for me&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My life is worth the livin, I dont need to see the end&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sweet, sweet surrender&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With my best friend in the round pen doing what she does so well, my beautiful "gift" trotting gracefully around me, the multitude of gifts from God assaulting my senses and a peace in my heart that comes from walking through the storm and seeing the rainbow on the other side. How could I do anything but surrender and know it's all in His hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RwTmSg86zdI/AAAAAAAAA_I/hMLISCQ4imE/s1600-h/DSC00460.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5117468282357206482" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RwTmSg86zdI/AAAAAAAAA_I/hMLISCQ4imE/s320/DSC00460.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Enjoy the moment, step forward in faith and know that if you stumble there is always an Angel to catch you and God to heal the wounds.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-3648943067506757670?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/3648943067506757670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=3648943067506757670' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/3648943067506757670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/3648943067506757670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/10/i-am-parent-adult-and-there-i-was.html' title='Sweet Surrender'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RwTmSg86zdI/AAAAAAAAA_I/hMLISCQ4imE/s72-c/DSC00460.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-1998362679202206453</id><published>2007-10-02T07:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-02T08:11:14.108-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='foster children'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hurt children'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='foster care'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='foster parents'/><title type='text'>"Just Like You"  a poem written by a foster dad</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;This peom was written by a very good friend who is a foster dad.  He and and wife are amazing people who have a special way of seeing into the heart of a child... especially a hurting child.  The world needs more people like them.  Hurting children need more people like them&lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Just like you&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hurt, I cry, I don't know why,&lt;br /&gt;Just ripped out of all I knew,&lt;br /&gt;You want me to act like you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mommy was wrong,&lt;br /&gt;My daddy doesn't care,&lt;br /&gt;You want me to act like you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You don't understand,&lt;br /&gt;They did what they could,&lt;br /&gt;You want me to act like you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're not my mom,&lt;br /&gt;You're not my dad,&lt;br /&gt;You want me to act like you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am okay,&lt;br /&gt;Now leave me alone,&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to be like you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was doing fine,&lt;br /&gt;I can take care of myself,&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to be like you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to hug,&lt;br /&gt;Don't hold my hand,&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to be like you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just take me back,&lt;br /&gt;You don't understand,&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to be like you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't leave me alone,&lt;br /&gt;Don't put me behind,&lt;br /&gt;I just want to be like you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just hold me close,&lt;br /&gt;Please hold me tight,&lt;br /&gt;I just want to be like you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just not fair,&lt;br /&gt;My parents just didn't care,&lt;br /&gt;I just want to be like you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please don't give up,&lt;br /&gt;You're all that I've got,&lt;br /&gt;I just want to be like you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By:Jamie Holben (foster dad)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-1998362679202206453?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/1998362679202206453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=1998362679202206453' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/1998362679202206453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/1998362679202206453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/10/just-like-you-poem-written-by-foster.html' title='&quot;Just Like You&quot;  a poem written by a foster dad'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-1022236369759492519</id><published>2007-10-01T19:33:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-01T20:40:22.136-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Swordsmanship 101</title><content type='html'>"Of all the people you will fight your biggest competitor is going to be yourself. Strive to improve each time you go out on the field. The Knight that has been training for twelve years may defeat you with the first blow. Learn from him and next time it may take him two blows to take you out. Don't try to do and what the person next to you is doing. Work to improve yourself, compete against yourself and you are winning".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Powerful words from the kind Knight that so patiently fielded my questions, explained how to make a sword, hold a shield, showed me stances and strikes. Powerful words that realized later are applicable in all aspects of life. (When I get his name next Sunday I will sure to update this as he deserves full credit for this post).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This evening I stood beside Mouse in Karate practicing kata over and over again. Sweat ran down our faces and the sleeves of our gee stuck to our arms making the movements that much more difficult. We were struggling to get our stances right, our strikes correct, wrists straight, fist tight, heels on the floor, pivot on the balls of the feet, stay low, use hips for power, and the best of all... remember to breath. As frustration filled me and my body was saying "you will never get this right" I could hear Sensei's voice in my head asking "have you done it a thousand times yet, ten thousand?". Again we went through the moves, then again and again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the way home from class the kind Knight's words came back to me. Tomorrow I will do kata again and tomorrow I will do better. I will remember more, I will be stronger and wiser than I was today. I WILL defeat my greatest enemy, the part of me that wants to give up, to walk away, that tells me "you can't do it, whats the use in even trying".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For sure good Sir Knight, chivalry lives on!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-1022236369759492519?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/1022236369759492519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=1022236369759492519' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/1022236369759492519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/1022236369759492519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/10/swordsmanship-101.html' title='Swordsmanship 101'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-3999645980903180370</id><published>2007-09-28T11:34:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-28T20:27:34.345-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='photography'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shenandoah National Park'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='water fall'/><title type='text'>Promise of the Arches</title><content type='html'>It was nearly 5:30 pm when Gyps and I arrived at the trail head that would take us &lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rv0kTA86yyI/AAAAAAAAA48/nBb0zt-7kmY/s1600-h/DSC02513.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;to one of waterfalls we hoped to see on our Wild Women's Weekend. We knew that dark was about 7:30 and the falls were only a mile or so in. Plenty of time to get in, take the photos we wanted and jet back out before dark. Hurriedly we grabbed water bottles, cameras, tripods and headed down&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5115303558710479746" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rv01fA86y4I/AAAAAAAAA5s/0VprKA-GOhI/s320/DSC02513.JPG" border="0" /&gt; the trail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The trail was amazing, the hike was spirit filled and uplifting. The 32 point buck (okay, maybe he was only a 12 pointer), was awe inspiring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rv0-lQ86y8I/AAAAAAAAA6M/fTNV51q9J6A/s1600-h/DSC02512.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rv0-lQ86y8I/AAAAAAAAA6M/fTNV51q9J6A/s1600-h/DSC02512.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rv0-lQ86y8I/AAAAAAAAA6M/fTNV51q9J6A/s1600-h/DSC02512.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All along the way we found natural arches over the trail. To me it felt as if they were showing us the path to something extra special. Calling out, "follow us, we have something amazing to share with you", and as the waterfall was still ahead we were inclined to follow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rv0-lQ86y8I/AAAAAAAAA6M/fTNV51q9J6A/s1600-h/DSC02512.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5115313561689312194" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rv0-lQ86y8I/AAAAAAAAA6M/fTNV51q9J6A/s320/DSC02512.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The hike in was all down hill and the impending darkness hurried our steps. We found the stream as it cascaded over a small rock &lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rv0kTw86yzI/AAAAAAAAA5E/i46z_kn6JV0/s1600-h/DSC02512.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;face making a beautiful little fall. It was cool and shady, "wonderful waterfall lighting" Gyps said. She was quickly absorbed in angles and lighting and the special magic that makes her photos so spectacular. While at the same time, I tried to figure out how to get a camera mounted on a tripod and not loose the whole thing in the stream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rv01gA86y6I/AAAAAAAAA58/BCzYTM_O2Qg/s1600-h/DSC02529.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was only a short time later I realized that the sun was gone and it was time to head back if we wanted reach the trail head before total darkness set it. Since every Gypsy step is the equivalent to two Tink steps I started out and Gyps promised to follow and catch up a few minutes later. I packed up my gear, headed out of our little hollow and back to the main trail. &lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rv01gA86y6I/AAAAAAAAA58/BCzYTM_O2Qg/s1600-h/DSC02529.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5115303575890348962" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rv01gA86y6I/AAAAAAAAA58/BCzYTM_O2Qg/s320/DSC02529.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rv0-lw86y9I/AAAAAAAAA6U/j9jTrUlGLI8/s1600-h/DSC02653.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I clamored up to the trail I happened to look to my left, down the trail and deeper into the canyon. Just down the path was another arch. The best one yet I thought, very oriental and it called to me. I headed&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rv0kVQ86y1I/AAAAAAAAA5U/axdjvKrhq88/s1600-h/DSC02653.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; down the trail to get a picture.&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rv0-lw86y9I/AAAAAAAAA6U/j9jTrUlGLI8/s1600-h/DSC02653.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5115313570279246802" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rv0-lw86y9I/AAAAAAAAA6U/j9jTrUlGLI8/s320/DSC02653.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I snapped the photo I realized I was hearing water falling ahead of me somewhere. I moved further down the trail and through the arch. The sound was clear and distinct, the sirens song of cascading water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ran back to the hollow and called to Gyps. Leaving most of our gear on the trail we followed the sound a few hundred feet until we found the source of the song that called up the trail to us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There before us, wrapped in the shadows of &lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rv01fQ86y5I/AAAAAAAAA50/q2Cett-aMPs/s1600-h/DSC02654.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5115303563005447058" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rv01fQ86y5I/AAAAAAAAA50/q2Cett-aMPs/s320/DSC02654.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;evening was a three teired rock face being caressed and wrapped in a loving embrace of the mountain stream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;True to their word the arched let us to the bounty we were intended to find on this days adventure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-3999645980903180370?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/3999645980903180370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=3999645980903180370' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/3999645980903180370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/3999645980903180370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/09/promise-of-arches.html' title='Promise of the Arches'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rv01fA86y4I/AAAAAAAAA5s/0VprKA-GOhI/s72-c/DSC02513.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-3503997442788176675</id><published>2007-09-27T21:02:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-27T21:59:34.972-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Answered Prayer</title><content type='html'>For a mother there is nothing worse than seeing your child in pain and being able to do nothing to help him. As a mother I would say that a child suffering from chronic pain would be pure torture. My dear friend and heart sister Dar suffers this torture daily as her elementary school age son Jackson, suffers from a debilitating hip disease that leaves him in constant, sever pain. He can not run or play or even sleep without being in pain. Even with pain medication he wakes at night crying out and there is little she can do to to ease his suffering. He has lived with this pain most of his life and the doctors are amazed that he can even walk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Early in the summer the deterioration of his hip joints became so sever Jackson's case had to be referred to John Hopkins Hospital in Maryland. The Doctors there said that little more could be done to help him except for major hip surgery. This surgery is not only dangerous and painful but involves a very long recovery time. Jackson wouldn't be back in school with his classmates until near Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the entire summer Dar and her family had carry the burden that Autumn would bring even more pain and suffering upon their son.  They are a family strong in faith and they didn't carry the burden alone.  They handed it over to their Heavenly Father and trusted their son to His Divine care.  At the same time family and friends have banded together to form a massive prayer chain lifting Jackson and his family up to the Lord. Today I received this email from Dar:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hi everyone,&lt;br /&gt;First and foremost...Praise God!! We had a great report today at Johns Hopkins!! As most of you know Jackson was secheduled for major hip surgery on Oct 12th with a tremendous recovery in store for him. Today we went for his pre-op and they did one more x-ray of his hips...and the new x-ray showed a lot of new bone growth in his hips that they didn't expect to happen. With the new bone growth being so significant the doctor has recommended we watch and wait at this time. Thanks to everyone for their prayers and support, please continue to lift Jackson up in prayer for continued progress. The doctor has "insisted" that Jackson take it easy on his hips and legs and do limited&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;activity to give his new bone time to get strong. We will keep you all updated!!! love, Mike and Dar&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Psalm 103 (1-4)&lt;br /&gt;1 Praise the LORD, O my soul; all my inmost being, praise his holy name.  2 Praise the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits- 3 who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases,  4 who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion, &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-3503997442788176675?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/3503997442788176675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=3503997442788176675' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/3503997442788176675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/3503997442788176675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/09/answered-prayer.html' title='Answered Prayer'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-5307556192092793109</id><published>2007-09-27T15:46:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-27T15:46:14.767-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sparkle</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RvwIhA86yxI/AAAAAAAAA30/Ege9SBTeREk/s1600-h/DSC03075.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RvwIhA86yxI/AAAAAAAAA30/Ege9SBTeREk/s320/DSC03075.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;When wild women get together and rejoice in nature even waterfalls sparkle!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'&gt;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-5307556192092793109?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/5307556192092793109/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=5307556192092793109' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/5307556192092793109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/5307556192092793109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/09/sparkle.html' title='Sparkle'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RvwIhA86yxI/AAAAAAAAA30/Ege9SBTeREk/s72-c/DSC03075.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-6512318913354972391</id><published>2007-09-27T15:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-27T15:31:18.206-04:00</updated><title type='text'>True Magic</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I watch the black belts practice judo throws and see the strength and power that comes from technique rather than tremendous strength.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watch Gyps with a horse and see her listen and understand as it speaks to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watch my children grow, I see them becoming more unique and independent and I long for the magic, the technique, the whisper that will allow me understand them. To hear their thoughts by looking into their eyes, to feel their pain and joy with a simple touch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A soft voice speaks to me, it says if you want to hear, take the time to really listen, if you want to feel, take the time to hug, to hold and to just be with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A deep sigh is followed by a prayer of thanks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-6512318913354972391?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/6512318913354972391/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=6512318913354972391' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/6512318913354972391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/6512318913354972391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-watch-black-belts-practice-judo.html' title='True Magic'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-6038120383513527220</id><published>2007-09-27T14:34:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-27T14:36:57.875-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Strength'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Quote'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Courage'/><title type='text'>Never Give Up!</title><content type='html'>"Think of the frog with its legs hanging out of the stork's mouth and with its hand around the stork's throat. NEVER GIVE UP!" ~ Unknown&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-6038120383513527220?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/6038120383513527220/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=6038120383513527220' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/6038120383513527220'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/6038120383513527220'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/09/never-give-up.html' title='Never Give Up!'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-2162955167387148664</id><published>2007-09-24T20:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-24T21:35:00.916-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Siege of Glengary - Part I</title><content type='html'>Bright sun shone down glaring and hot. The sent of leather, steel and sweat permeated the air as the knights passed the pavilion where we sat refreshed with cool drinks and shaded from the mid-day sun. The the ground trembled as the valiant warriors charged towards their foe, swords, shields and armored bodies smashing together in a grand crescendo. As the battle wound down water barers were called in. Beautiful ladies as elegantly and brightly adorned as butterflies bore cool refreshment to the men in arms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Tribe's first SCA event was a day that will not soon be forgotten. The sights, the smells, the feast, oh the feast, the kind hearts and new friends. It was with a sad hearts that we had to leave before the drumming and dancing could begin. The Tribe was worn to the point of pure exhaustion. Little eyes, red and glassy and could barely stay open. Belts had been cast off. Hay and dust covered tunics and dresses were piled to be washed. Filthy little sleepyheads piled into beds to tired to shower.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Tribe is restless now. Counting the days until they get to start weapons training and then to the next event.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RvhZzA86yvI/AAAAAAAAA3g/Uppi4tVHwjU/s1600-h/DSC03210.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RvhZzA86yvI/AAAAAAAAA3g/Uppi4tVHwjU/s320/DSC03210.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RvhZzA86ywI/AAAAAAAAA3o/it15noGok4Q/s1600-h/DSC03216.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RvhZzA86ywI/AAAAAAAAA3o/it15noGok4Q/s320/DSC03216.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RvhZyg86yuI/AAAAAAAAA3Y/bRxldOyoETk/s1600-h/DSC03206.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RvhZyg86yuI/AAAAAAAAA3Y/bRxldOyoETk/s320/DSC03206.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="CLEAR: both"&gt;&lt;a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; PADDING-RIGHT: 0px; BORDER-TOP: 0px; PADDING-LEFT: 0px; BACKGROUND: 0% 50%; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0px; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-TOP: 0px; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial" alt="Posted by Picasa" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" align="middle" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-2162955167387148664?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/2162955167387148664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=2162955167387148664' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/2162955167387148664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/2162955167387148664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/09/siege-of-glengary-part-i_24.html' title='The Siege of Glengary - Part I'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RvhZzA86yvI/AAAAAAAAA3g/Uppi4tVHwjU/s72-c/DSC03210.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-3020711181739801157</id><published>2007-09-24T20:26:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-24T20:27:17.542-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Siege of Glengary Part II</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RvhV4g86yqI/AAAAAAAAA24/fy_m7i_Wrq4/s1600-h/DSC03174-1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RvhV4g86yqI/AAAAAAAAA24/fy_m7i_Wrq4/s320/DSC03174-1.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RvhV4w86yrI/AAAAAAAAA3A/7TlpMPx4Wf0/s1600-h/DSC03160.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RvhV4w86yrI/AAAAAAAAA3A/7TlpMPx4Wf0/s320/DSC03160.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RvhV5A86ysI/AAAAAAAAA3I/FTJrx87mkNU/s1600-h/DSC03153.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RvhV5A86ysI/AAAAAAAAA3I/FTJrx87mkNU/s320/DSC03153.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RvhV5Q86ytI/AAAAAAAAA3Q/pL152lw78v4/s1600-h/DSC03155.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RvhV5Q86ytI/AAAAAAAAA3Q/pL152lw78v4/s320/DSC03155.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style='clear:both; text-align:NONE'&gt;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-3020711181739801157?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/3020711181739801157/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=3020711181739801157' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/3020711181739801157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/3020711181739801157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/09/siege-of-glengary-part-ii.html' title='The Siege of Glengary Part II'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RvhV4g86yqI/AAAAAAAAA24/fy_m7i_Wrq4/s72-c/DSC03174-1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-3927049395412978748</id><published>2007-09-24T20:24:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-24T20:48:03.898-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shire of Sylvan Glen'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Siege of Glengary'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='midieval reenactment'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='SCA'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Renaissance reenactment'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='knights'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='armor'/><title type='text'>The Siege of Glengary - Part III</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RvhVSQ86ymI/AAAAAAAAA2Y/3ep89J4U9cE/s1600-h/DSC03197.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RvhVSQ86ymI/AAAAAAAAA2Y/3ep89J4U9cE/s320/DSC03197.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RvhVSg86ynI/AAAAAAAAA2g/F7Dw0VkQkag/s1600-h/DSC03198.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RvhVSg86ynI/AAAAAAAAA2g/F7Dw0VkQkag/s320/DSC03198.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RvhVSw86yoI/AAAAAAAAA2o/UAizbPhJOTQ/s1600-h/DSC03195.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RvhVSw86yoI/AAAAAAAAA2o/UAizbPhJOTQ/s320/DSC03195.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RvhVSw86ypI/AAAAAAAAA2w/jlCv-xyc394/s1600-h/DSC03194.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RvhVSw86ypI/AAAAAAAAA2w/jlCv-xyc394/s320/DSC03194.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div style="CLEAR: both"&gt;&lt;a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; PADDING-RIGHT: 0px; BORDER-TOP: 0px; PADDING-LEFT: 0px; BACKGROUND: 0% 50%; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0px; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-TOP: 0px; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial" alt="Posted by Picasa" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" align="middle" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-3927049395412978748?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/3927049395412978748/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=3927049395412978748' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/3927049395412978748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/3927049395412978748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/09/siege-of-glengary-part-i.html' title='The Siege of Glengary - Part III'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RvhVSQ86ymI/AAAAAAAAA2Y/3ep89J4U9cE/s72-c/DSC03197.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-9137055349328666616</id><published>2007-09-23T12:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-24T21:40:13.057-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='teamwork'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sensei Feldman'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Karate'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Blue Heron Dojo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Blue Heron'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RvaYiQ86ykI/AAAAAAAAA1U/-lz-of1cJiI/s1600-h/DSC02201.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5113442141359229506" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RvaYiQ86ykI/AAAAAAAAA1U/-lz-of1cJiI/s200/DSC02201.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The Saturday chosen for dojo cleaning was warm but carried the distinct crispness that comes in September. Many students had come the weekend before so I was able to have the morning with Sensei Barbara and Sensei Brett to myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We kicked things off with Mr. Barry's amazing coffee and conversation. Then, we went to work. Sensei Barbara and I started on the floor while Sensei Brett scrubbed sky lights. On the floor on our hands and knees we worked side by side, student and &lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RvaYiA86yjI/AAAAAAAAA1M/e2juQZECIdw/s1600-h/DSC02195.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5113442137064262194" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RvaYiA86yjI/AAAAAAAAA1M/e2juQZECIdw/s200/DSC02195.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;teacher. I got to hear about Barbara's trip to the orient during the summer and her broad sword training in China. We swept, washed and weeded. Sometimes talking sometimes silent, (yes I can pull of silence for a few minutes). Before I knew it I had to leave to get lunch on the table for the Tribe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a wonderful morning. I left with a feeling of accomplishment, ownership and wrapped in the fleeing of closeness and friendship that comes from working as a team.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RvaYhw86yiI/AAAAAAAAA1E/qMwDm1HYpSo/s1600-h/DSC02189.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5113442132769294882" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RvaYhw86yiI/AAAAAAAAA1E/qMwDm1HYpSo/s200/DSC02189.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Blue Heron Dojo is a place of peace and tranquility. It is a place of learning and growth for the mind, body and spirit. My thanks to Sensei Barbara for creating such a place and for sharing it with all of us.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-9137055349328666616?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/9137055349328666616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=9137055349328666616' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/9137055349328666616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/9137055349328666616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/09/saturday-chosen-for-dojo-cleaning-was.html' title=''/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RvaYiQ86ykI/AAAAAAAAA1U/-lz-of1cJiI/s72-c/DSC02201.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-5753031750259269715</id><published>2007-09-21T06:31:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-21T07:17:20.542-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Falls, Rolls and Throws</title><content type='html'>Thursday night karate class was falls, rolls and throws followed by sparing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little bit battered, little bit sore and totally pumped up I think, man I love this stuff.  My next thought is ohhhh, I can't wait to show Gyps!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-5753031750259269715?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/5753031750259269715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=5753031750259269715' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/5753031750259269715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/5753031750259269715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/09/falls-rolls-and-throws.html' title='Falls, Rolls and Throws'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-1565584669592250386</id><published>2007-09-18T21:03:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-18T21:29:06.434-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ponies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Children'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Special Needs'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='4-H'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Saddles and Smiles'/><title type='text'>Three Cheers for Saddles and Smiles</title><content type='html'>Last month at the county fair Gyps introduced me to Miss Margaret who heads up Saddles and Smiles, a therapeutic riding program for children with special needs. I had been told my numerous people what a great program it was and what a blessing it was to the children that participated. Tonight was the September meeting so Grandma and I decided to take the tribe and check it out for ourselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was more than I had heard, more than I could have dreamed. The smiles of the children out shown the fire of the setting sun. Everyone was friendly and helpful. Miss Margaret was wonderful and made us feel so welcome. When we started the sun was setting and it was getting dark, the air was crisp and cool but the mood was warm and welcoming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of the tribe that wanted to ride got to... even the littlest. The ones that I actually signed up for the program did amazing. All the way home and long after I heard about the little black pony, Socks. Nathan rode Mississippi and has a new friend in the broad backed little haflinger. After we got home and everyone was headed off to bed Nathan came bouncing in to tell me goodnight. His smile was still firmly affixed to his little face and I can honestly say he was glowing. He got to wear his new helmet and sit up so big, he was so proud. Too see him this happy brought tears to my eyes. A door was opened in him and the others. I can't wait to see where it leads.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kudos to Miss Margaret and all those that make this program possible. If the world had more like them it would be a much warmer, kinder and better place. And to the ponies, you little dudes rock!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-1565584669592250386?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/1565584669592250386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=1565584669592250386' title='199 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/1565584669592250386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/1565584669592250386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/09/three-cheers-for-saddles-and-smiles.html' title='Three Cheers for Saddles and Smiles'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>199</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-5293015605922460940</id><published>2007-09-17T16:18:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-17T16:31:27.189-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Post WWW</title><content type='html'>Wow, I can't believe WWW, (wild women's week) is already over. What an amazing adventure!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much to write about, think about, so many great memories. Now it's time to dive into the laundry, homework, doctor appointments, bills, vet visits and all the things that make home a home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I drive to the vet's office with the cat and my 'shotgum rider' I look at the mountains with longing.  It would be so nice to just stop and start to climb. After five days of hiking it just seemed like the thing to do. I refocused on the road ahead knowing as wonderful as it would be it just wouldn't be the same. After this trip I don't think anything will be the same again!  After a week with the twin sister of my heart, her sweetie and my prince charming in one of God's most beautiful settings how could it?  My heart sings, It was give wings and how I have to decide where to fly to next.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-5293015605922460940?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/5293015605922460940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=5293015605922460940' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/5293015605922460940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/5293015605922460940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/09/post-www.html' title='Post WWW'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-3507358182207542040</id><published>2007-09-08T17:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-08T17:43:04.703-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blessings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='foster care'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='adoption'/><title type='text'>The Journey</title><content type='html'>It took two days, numerous computer crashes and more than a few headaches to get my video of the Tribe postable and posted. After fearing for the life of my hard drive I had to wonder what drove me to have to get it done? Why is it so important for me to share the Tribe with the rest of the world?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mulling this over as I head home from at hot afternoon of pony pedicures I realize that they, the Tribe, are the answer to many prayers, they are why I get up in the morning, they keep me young at heart and they keep me dreaming, striving and growing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never planned on a big family. To be really honest after my first child I said that was it, there would be no more. The Lord had other plans for me and I am so greatful now that He did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adoption and foster care have been the biggest rollercoaster ride of my life. If give a choice I quickly take pain of child birth over being told I may have to send a child that I love with every ounce of my being away to people that nearly killed him before he was two months old. So many times I had to tell myselfy "they aren't mine, they are yours Lord. You created them, you know the plan I am just here to do your work. But please give me the strength to do it".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He has given me the strength plus so much more. The blessings and joy I get from my kids can't be counted. It is so far beyond anything that I deserve. I am so blessed in so many ways and I see now that my drive to post this part of the journey was so that I could share these blessings and all the miracles that came with them with everyone else.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-3507358182207542040?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/3507358182207542040/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=3507358182207542040' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/3507358182207542040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/3507358182207542040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/09/journey.html' title='The Journey'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-4114356300798131128</id><published>2007-09-08T11:41:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-08T11:41:07.011-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My Kids, My Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/NW24Z7_n4zQ' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/NW24Z7_n4zQ'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-4114356300798131128?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/4114356300798131128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=4114356300798131128' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/4114356300798131128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/4114356300798131128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/09/my-kids-my-life_08.html' title='My Kids, My Life'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-8937446232737932505</id><published>2007-09-08T10:37:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-08T11:39:25.183-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Upheaval</title><content type='html'>So much to do, so many things that need to get done before I leave for the "Wild Women" retreat.  I have it all planned out in my mind, just how much I can procrastinate and what has to be done by when.  Then, the schedule changes.  It's not serious, no children's appointments or anything like that, but in my over loaded, distracted mind it creates chaos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was working so hard at not having any expectations about the tip, only to realize I set myself  before it even began.  Deep breath, regroup, let it go and start over.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-8937446232737932505?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/8937446232737932505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=8937446232737932505' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/8937446232737932505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/8937446232737932505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/09/upheaval.html' title='Upheaval'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-3200483894894009719</id><published>2007-09-07T16:33:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-07T16:40:03.993-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Trees Alive</title><content type='html'>The trees were alive,&lt;br /&gt;Black wraiths among the leaves,&lt;br /&gt;The sky went dark,&lt;br /&gt;Morning silence shattered by screeches, screams and the beating of wings&lt;br /&gt;The starlings were on the move&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-3200483894894009719?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/3200483894894009719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=3200483894894009719' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/3200483894894009719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/3200483894894009719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/09/trees-alive.html' title='Trees Alive'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-2064976628401336005</id><published>2007-09-07T16:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-07T16:32:35.069-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Reading vs Posting</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RuG1Ga3u9uI/AAAAAAAAAx8/w4jPXj1s0N0/s1600-h/DSC02178.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5107562574311782114" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RuG1Ga3u9uI/AAAAAAAAAx8/w4jPXj1s0N0/s200/DSC02178.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The Mouse reads! She reads and she reads. She tells me all about her books, what she loves and what she hates. "Great" I respond, "post on it". &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There she goes again, nose in a book. No posting, just reading!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Post Mouse, Post!!! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-2064976628401336005?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/2064976628401336005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=2064976628401336005' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/2064976628401336005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/2064976628401336005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/09/reading-vs-posting.html' title='Reading vs Posting'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RuG1Ga3u9uI/AAAAAAAAAx8/w4jPXj1s0N0/s72-c/DSC02178.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-5040068757642346618</id><published>2007-09-06T17:46:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-06T20:21:47.948-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Departure</title><content type='html'>Only a few days until departure. Only a few hours down the road, but for me a life time away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think about a week with no getting drinks of water at three in the morning or waking up with a little face only inches from mine telling me "mommy, I'm scared. Can I sleep in the middle?". No never ending sock basket or dogs barking when the neighbors walk by, a squirrel goes up a tree or the wind blows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahhh, it sounds like heaven but I'm scared to death. As much as I grumble about the non stop laundry, dishes, cooking for an army and breaking up fights, it's my life, my world, it's secure and safe. I always have a hug waiting for me, someone to paint watercolors with and an "I love you mommy" is only a head pat and squeeze away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The idea of heading out of the driveway and down the road with no one riding "shotgum" looms before me. No one to sing too or with, no one jabbering away about hay and John Deere tractors, dump trucks or Chinese good. Eleven years ago I faced the unknown of being a parent. Now I face the unknown of being with just me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-5040068757642346618?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/5040068757642346618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=5040068757642346618' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/5040068757642346618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/5040068757642346618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/09/departure.html' title='Departure'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-6460930715386988268</id><published>2007-09-05T21:35:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-05T21:35:31.784-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hamster Dance - Pirates of the Caribbean (Piramsters)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/E-r3I49CHvI' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/E-r3I49CHvI'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;BJ had to share his favorite video, rock on BJ!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-6460930715386988268?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/6460930715386988268/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=6460930715386988268' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/6460930715386988268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/6460930715386988268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/09/hamster-dance-pirates-of-caribbean.html' title='Hamster Dance - Pirates of the Caribbean (Piramsters)'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-1284422564905340827</id><published>2007-09-04T14:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-04T15:07:20.821-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Road Trip</title><content type='html'>A gift from my aunt, a week at her time share in the Shennandoah Valley.  What to do with a week??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What started as just a thought, "hey you want to come hang out in a beautiful place for a few days?"  has taken creativity to a new level.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The end result will be beautiful.  I can just feel it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-1284422564905340827?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/1284422564905340827/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=1284422564905340827' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/1284422564905340827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/1284422564905340827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/09/road-trip.html' title='Road Trip'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-6340497336119606339</id><published>2007-09-04T11:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-04T12:01:31.535-04:00</updated><title type='text'>"Yes Tink, I believe that is rain"</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rt2ANq3u9pI/AAAAAAAAAxU/9d8ICr3q5VQ/s1600-h/DSC01596.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5106378524842718866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rt2ANq3u9pI/AAAAAAAAAxU/9d8ICr3q5VQ/s320/DSC01596.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I count on Gyps to keep me on the straight and narrow. I am fully confident that with her I will never accidentally wander into the realms of boredom, commonplace or any other strange places others perceive as reality.  She grounds me and keeps me focused on the the critical issues of life such as what a real elephant's ear should look like and staying in tune with your power tools.  I still wonder how I ever survived all these years without her??&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5106378533432653474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rt2AOK3u9qI/AAAAAAAAAxc/ncZFfRcw8xk/s320/DSC01768.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5106378537727620786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rt2AOa3u9rI/AAAAAAAAAxk/1jHuPZ1TGN4/s320/DSC00991.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love ya sister!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-6340497336119606339?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/6340497336119606339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=6340497336119606339' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/6340497336119606339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/6340497336119606339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/09/yes-tink-i-believe-that-is-rain.html' title='&quot;Yes Tink, I believe that is rain&quot;'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rt2ANq3u9pI/AAAAAAAAAxU/9d8ICr3q5VQ/s72-c/DSC01596.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-801394681422024802</id><published>2007-09-04T11:36:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-04T11:42:43.236-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rt181q3u9mI/AAAAAAAAAw8/JoDcvinwq74/s1600-h/DSC02076.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5106374813990975074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rt181q3u9mI/AAAAAAAAAw8/JoDcvinwq74/s320/DSC02076.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rt182K3u9nI/AAAAAAAAAxE/WCzL6-gKy7A/s1600-h/DSC02126.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5106374822580909682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rt182K3u9nI/AAAAAAAAAxE/WCzL6-gKy7A/s320/DSC02126.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rt182a3u9oI/AAAAAAAAAxM/ogvVaUjLJa0/s1600-h/DSC02036.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5106374826875876994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rt182a3u9oI/AAAAAAAAAxM/ogvVaUjLJa0/s320/DSC02036.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Happy 5th Birthday Nathaniel! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-801394681422024802?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/801394681422024802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=801394681422024802' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/801394681422024802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/801394681422024802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/09/happy-5th-birthday-nathaniel.html' title=''/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rt181q3u9mI/AAAAAAAAAw8/JoDcvinwq74/s72-c/DSC02076.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-1173079005533507905</id><published>2007-09-04T08:26:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-04T11:27:08.679-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Growing up Despite the Weeds</title><content type='html'>I'm a mom! There is just something in me that wants to care for, fuss over and nurture what ever I think needs mothering. Mostly it children and critters, sometimes it's family and even friends that despite being all grown up, I mother anyway and, since they love me they put up with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mom in me wants to shield and protect those that I love. I want to wrap them in bubble wrap and lock them in a padded room. But healthy children, animals, friendships and even plants need space and freedom. Mistakes, bumps and bruises are part of life. They are the tools that build character, teach wisdom and build confidence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last fall I got a new rose for my rose garden called "Freedom". I worked the soil and carefully planted the little guy. He grew leaves and even had a bloom. This spring I made sure all the weeds were cleared, put out rose food, mulched and weeded some more.  As summer came on freedom began to grow strong and bushy. Then, the Japanese beetles found him, the dry spell hit and the heat and gnats kept me from fussing after my roses as I should have. Freedom's leaves were chewed and the last blossom was eaten by bugs and weeds took over the rose bed despite the mulch and weed barrier I'd put down the year before. I promised myself that as soon as I could make the time I would go give him the TLC I was sure he needed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night after a wonderful evening of girl time and ponies I wandered over the the rose bed to see how much work it was going to take to revive my sick flowers. Imagine my surprise when despite the lack of fussing, spraying, coddling and attention I found Freedom had grown above the weeds, strong and straight. He was green and leafy and even better Freedom bloomed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As much as I think bubble wrap is a good idea I guess I was shown that stepping back, letting go and letting God is truly the best way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rt1Qa63u9lI/AAAAAAAAAw0/SXzX_83nTJs/s1600-h/DSC02152.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5106325975917852242" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rt1Qa63u9lI/AAAAAAAAAw0/SXzX_83nTJs/s320/DSC02152.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-1173079005533507905?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/1173079005533507905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=1173079005533507905' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/1173079005533507905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/1173079005533507905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/09/im-mom-there-is-just-something-in-me.html' title='Growing up Despite the Weeds'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rt1Qa63u9lI/AAAAAAAAAw0/SXzX_83nTJs/s72-c/DSC02152.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-8512981827428000218</id><published>2007-08-31T07:41:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-31T07:58:04.247-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Late Night</title><content type='html'>It's late, way to late for school age children to be up but, there is lightning flashing and thunder booming. Tiger dog hides under the desk laying across my feet and beside him is BJ, hanging on my leg. The cats are as close as they can get while still maintaining the appearance of being independent. Bower's in my lap, Bart is in the basket on my desk, Mo curls up on the printer and August paces the floor, glaring at the dog. Little Farm Boy huddles next to me, wide eyed each time the sky lights up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't type and it's getting hard to breath. Ah well, it's not good to have the PC on during an electrical storm. I pry kids and critters off and with my menagerie in tow I head to bed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-8512981827428000218?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/8512981827428000218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=8512981827428000218' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/8512981827428000218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/8512981827428000218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/08/late-night.html' title='Late Night'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-7739541870984486334</id><published>2007-08-30T19:33:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-30T19:46:28.940-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So Gyps advise me that since we are related and she is the Most Noble and Honourable Gypsy the Splendid of Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch I too must have a peculiar aristocratic title. So, I did the research and low-n-behold there it was:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="8" bgcolor="#ffffff" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td valign="center"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.masquerademaskarts.com/memes/minicrest.gif" /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td valign="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;My Peculiar Aristocratic Title is:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:black;"&gt;Baroness Tink the Spurious of Lardle Midhoop &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;small&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.masquerademaskarts.com/memes/peculiartitle.php"&gt;Get your Peculiar Aristocratic Title&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/small&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel so special!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-7739541870984486334?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/7739541870984486334/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=7739541870984486334' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/7739541870984486334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/7739541870984486334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/08/so-gyps-advise-me-that-since-we-are.html' title=''/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-733599235159946611</id><published>2007-08-27T06:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-27T06:55:06.381-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Keep Swimming</title><content type='html'>Hip-hip-hooray, it's back to school day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a day of firsts at our house.  Nathan starts kindergarten, Mouse starts middle school, it's Layla's first year at the main High School campus and BJ's first year home with just mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With just 10 minutes until we leave for the first bus run I think back on the summer and all the great times, what a blast!  It's a cross roads kinda day.  I know Gyps would tell me something profound about not looking back, moving forward... "just keep swimming, just keep swimming".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Final call for flight 1, all passengers should be on board and prepared for departure, final call!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the journey goes on!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-733599235159946611?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/733599235159946611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=733599235159946611' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/733599235159946611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/733599235159946611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/08/just-keep-swimming.html' title='Just Keep Swimming'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-6222702858647767775</id><published>2007-08-24T08:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-24T09:44:55.685-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Transition</title><content type='html'>Summertime elegantly clothed in her tapestry of rich greens dotted with the shining colors or flowers and birds begins to grow restless.  It's time for her to move on and leave her realm to her sister &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Autumn&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sisters draw close to each other knowing that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;soon&lt;/span&gt; one will have to move on.  The mornings are crisp with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Autumn's&lt;/span&gt; breath as she begs her sister to stay just a little longer.  Summer weeps and sometimes rages with the thought of leaving, and despite the forces pulling her away she clings to her sister for as long as possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soon Summer will move on and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Autumn&lt;/span&gt; will rule alone.  In her pain she will send the brightly colored birds to warmer climes, drain the green from the leaves, redressing them in crimsons and golds.  Then, she will see her brother Winter &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;approach&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;together&lt;/span&gt; they decorate the world in frost and chase animals into warm burrows and nests.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On and on it goes, through wars and famine, birth and joy.  A world beyond our understanding or even &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;imagination&lt;/span&gt;, forever moving, always in transition.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-6222702858647767775?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/6222702858647767775/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=6222702858647767775' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/6222702858647767775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/6222702858647767775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/08/transition.html' title='Transition'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-1761998564653624735</id><published>2007-08-14T11:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T12:02:10.468-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Girls Just Want to Play Dress-up</title><content type='html'>What is it about wandering through fabric stores looking at all the colors and textures that can set a girl's heart a glow.  The idea you can take a plane piece of something and make it into something you can wear.  Something that can tell people something about who you are and what you like, even what your mood is for that day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Creativity in textiles" Gyps said.  That must be where all the creative juices have gone.  What fun it has been!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-1761998564653624735?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/1761998564653624735/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=1761998564653624735' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/1761998564653624735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/1761998564653624735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/08/girls-just-want-to-play-dress-up.html' title='Girls Just Want to Play Dress-up'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-8992548659540021477</id><published>2007-08-07T19:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-07T19:34:11.596-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Time to Post</title><content type='html'>For days now I have tried to find the time, make the time to sit and let my thoughts flow from mind to keyboard.  I fall asleep with words wandering through my head, thoughts spinning and spiraling but finding no release.  I actually dream I have posted and that Gyps has left some wonderful, amusing comment that I laugh about over and over.  I wake up to find I can't remember what I was in my mind when sleep came nor what I posted about in my dream.  I sadly remember that Gyps is gone for a few more days and that there will be no comments or jokes no one else could understand until she gets back... sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, here I sit, with a million and one things rushing around in my brain and now the time to let them out but the door is closed.  Maybe I need more sleep, or less sleep or more spicy food... yea that will help. Spicy food always gets things moving!  Maybe I just need my missing twin to come home so that the wellspring of creativity can freely flow again.  Maybe I just need to try again tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-8992548659540021477?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/8992548659540021477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=8992548659540021477' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/8992548659540021477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/8992548659540021477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/08/time-to-post.html' title='A Time to Post'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-3836548763810617258</id><published>2007-07-29T11:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-29T12:09:38.836-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Shades of Orange</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rqy7l55USRI/AAAAAAAAAc0/A8CuctMjhI4/s1600-h/DSC00691.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092651538519968018" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rqy7l55USRI/AAAAAAAAAc0/A8CuctMjhI4/s320/DSC00691.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rqy7mJ5USSI/AAAAAAAAAc8/mYmpWNtHe3Q/s1600-h/DSC00702.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092651542814935330" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rqy7mJ5USSI/AAAAAAAAAc8/mYmpWNtHe3Q/s320/DSC00702.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rqy7mp5USTI/AAAAAAAAAdE/pvcVgr8gjbE/s1600-h/DSC00692.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092651551404869938" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rqy7mp5USTI/AAAAAAAAAdE/pvcVgr8gjbE/s320/DSC00692.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rqy7oJ5USUI/AAAAAAAAAdM/Z2gKEdzaapg/s1600-h/DSC00700.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092651577174673730" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rqy7oJ5USUI/AAAAAAAAAdM/Z2gKEdzaapg/s320/DSC00700.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-3836548763810617258?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/3836548763810617258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=3836548763810617258' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/3836548763810617258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/3836548763810617258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/07/shades-of-orange.html' title='Shades of Orange'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rqy7l55USRI/AAAAAAAAAc0/A8CuctMjhI4/s72-c/DSC00691.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-5069352229584756934</id><published>2007-07-29T10:20:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-29T11:52:18.677-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Death in The Storm</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;The 'bee tree' has been a sentinel standing in our front yard since our house was built. It was one of the trees left on the property when the excavator put in the building site. Before we cleared the land it stood in the middle of the last set of dense woods in this area. Our home sits at the base of School House Ridge, site of a small battle during the civil war. We have often wondered if Confederate soldiers bivouacked on this land as they prepared for battle? Was the tree here then? If it could talk what stories would it tell?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We knew the bee tree was old, very old. It was one of the largest trees on the property. It was adorned it beautiful shelf fungus which indicated it was sick and probably would have to come down eventually but, it was way out in the front yard and leaning away from all structures. It was called the 'bee tree' because of the hollow in the lower trunk that was inhabited by wild honey bees every year. In the spring I would work the flower bed around it's base but, once the bees arrived it was left alone until fall. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Last night's storm witnessed the death of our aged sentinel. Around midnight as the wind howled and the thunder pounded we heard a loud crack followed by a crash. It was too dark to see into the yard and the house was fine. We assumed lightning, maybe a branch had broken in the wind. We returned to sleep. By the light of morning we found the shattered corps that was once our beautiful tree lying broken and smashed on the front lawn. The trunk broke off about 15 feet up and it fell towards the house. Had it come up from the roots the corner of the house would be gone. Branches still rest in the tops of neighboring trees. The shattered trunk has to be cut up and hauled away and the chunks of torn earth will have be to filled and reseeded with grass. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;To most folks it was just an old tree, sick and rotting that needed to come down before someone got hurt. To the birds, squirrels and bees it was home. To me it was like an old&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rqy3PJ5USQI/AAAAAAAAAcs/symRHEWRu_0/s1600-h/DSC00686.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092646749631432962" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rqy3PJ5USQI/AAAAAAAAAcs/symRHEWRu_0/s320/DSC00686.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; friend, strong and powerful and always there. It had stood through heat and cold, storms and droughts, peace and war. But death being a part of life had to come, and so it has. Good bye old friend.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-5069352229584756934?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/5069352229584756934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=5069352229584756934' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/5069352229584756934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/5069352229584756934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/07/death-in-storm.html' title='Death in The Storm'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rqy3PJ5USQI/AAAAAAAAAcs/symRHEWRu_0/s72-c/DSC00686.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-1633710664207693575</id><published>2007-07-26T18:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-26T18:59:17.243-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RqknBp5USKI/AAAAAAAAAb4/Jas1r1Fws3w/s1600-h/DSC00663.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5091643763098667170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RqknBp5USKI/AAAAAAAAAb4/Jas1r1Fws3w/s200/DSC00663.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Dinner with the Tribe is never quiet or dull. Last night it was BJ and corn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A neighbor brought us some home grown corn from his parents farm. The Tribe spent a good portion of the afternoon shucking and cleaning the silk and buggies from the golden ears. BJ couldn't wait until it was ready to eat and sat out at the patio table bouncing up and down in anticipation. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Once the dinner plates had made it to the table he insisted he wanted a bowl for his corn. Trying to prevent a melt down and not seeing what it could hurt I gave in and took him a bowl. He promptly took the hot corn, put it in the bowl and got up to stand in front of the fan we keep on the patio to help with the evening heat and bugs. When I asked him what he was doing with the corn he looked at me as if I were totally stupid and told me that the corn was hot and blowing took too long, so he would use the fan to cool it off. Geee, did I feel dumb!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-1633710664207693575?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/1633710664207693575/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=1633710664207693575' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/1633710664207693575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/1633710664207693575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/07/dinner-with-tribe-is-never-quiet-or.html' title=''/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RqknBp5USKI/AAAAAAAAAb4/Jas1r1Fws3w/s72-c/DSC00663.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-8774894765179375870</id><published>2007-07-24T09:04:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-24T10:04:47.999-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Mice and Mom</title><content type='html'>Yesterday Mom and I decided to venture off on a quest for fabric and notions and pretty fun things. We skated out the door just steps ahead of BJ who had broken away from his dad and was making a mad dash for my leg. Thank goodness for kid proof door knob covers. I don't remember the last time my mom and I went out without a kid in tow. It was a great afternoon and we headed home with a candy bar for lunch and bags of glittery, shiny, silky things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the way home I pulled into a gas station to fill up. On the far side of pumps were two 18 - 20 something-ish men, I use the term men very lightly, in a beat up Honda sedan. The passenger door was open and the guy was swearing loud enough to make a sailor in the midst of a class five hurricane blush. He had a fairly large boa or python draped around his neck and a small white box in his hand. It took me a second to realize what the commotion was about. It seems that the guys had stopped at a pet store to get white mice to feed to the snake and the mice were getting out of the box. The guy set the box up side down on the pavement next to the car while he went into the gas station to get a bag to put the box in. The box was on the ground less than a minute before the driver came over to pick it up. He held is hand over the top to prevent the mice from escaping. A minute later his foul mouthed buddy returned with his snake and a bag and they drove away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back in the car mom asked what the fuss was. I told her about the snake guy and his mice and that I was sorely tempted to run over and kick the box under the car so the mice could have escaped. I am sure it would have been a really ugly scene, maybe even come to blows or a call to the police but, it sure would have been funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom in all her wisdom explained that it would have been kind of amusing but the pavement was hot there was no where for the little guys to go. She said that freeing them in a place like that would have caused them to suffer worse that if they were fed to the snake. She also pointed out to make it really funny I should have walked over the the driver, asked to see his cute little mice and then opened the box in the car with a ditsy giggle and an "oops, sorry", let them loose in the Honda. Picturing the snake guy's face with those mice running loose in the car had me in stitches half way home. I hope some day I am as wise and cleaver as her!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-8774894765179375870?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/8774894765179375870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=8774894765179375870' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/8774894765179375870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/8774894765179375870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/07/mice-and-mom.html' title='Mice and Mom'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-2975587058943047724</id><published>2007-07-16T17:03:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-16T18:01:44.914-04:00</updated><title type='text'>All in a Days Work</title><content type='html'>Music and motivational speakers on tape in the morning, coffee and a brisk cool shower, exercise, all of the ways I tried to get myself moving. Ways to get the mind and body focused and working towards completing something or in my case, starting something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Todd and I sat out on the porch last evening and talked about all the things we would like to get done, the things we have to get done and the things we would do if a long lost relative left us a bunch of money. It was an amazing list, a wonderful list, an exhausting list. We both went to bed hoping the elves had heard the conversation and would come put in the walk ways, weed the front flowers and garden, seal the deck, build a new shed in the back yard and fix up the 84 Monte Carlo that he has wanted to restore for years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I rolled out of bed this morning I had every intention of taking on the world and getting a whole bunch done. I got a shower, my coffee and then the phone rang. I made breakfast while still on the phone, did the dishes, changed a diaper, got kids dressed and assigned morning chores. After two loads of laundry, getting floors vacuumed, feeding the cats, cleaning the laundry room I got three kids off for a visit with their bio-mom. Next came the rounding up of library books and a visit to the library and produce stand. I was home by 11:00 made PB&amp;amp;J for the remaining munchkins and headed for my office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, here I sit thinking that another day is nearly gone and none of my projects are done or even started yet. Do I need to organize better, multi-task better, prioritize better? Maybe if I could grow a few extra arms or if Gyps would get on the ball and have some hours added to the day (she keeps saying she'll get to that). Then I think, who am I to complain? I have a Tribe of healthy kids, an awesome family, the best friends in the world and I get to leave all this house work fun to Todd tomorrow so I can play (oh, I mean work) with Gyps at the farm for a few hours. It will all be here when I get back, the weeds, paint, kids, dreams and plans. Maybe I'll get to it and maybe I'll just play Go-Fish with the Tribe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-2975587058943047724?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/2975587058943047724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=2975587058943047724' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/2975587058943047724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/2975587058943047724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/07/all-in-days-work.html' title='All in a Days Work'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-8224446353103086779</id><published>2007-07-10T11:20:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-10T11:31:53.941-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Mmmm, Salsa</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RpOmUqmCTLI/AAAAAAAAAbg/8wy_s5bbSok/s1600-h/DSC00594.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5085591278192839858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RpOmUqmCTLI/AAAAAAAAAbg/8wy_s5bbSok/s200/DSC00594.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Maybe it's growing up in the Sacramento valley of California but nothing says summer to me like fresh salsa. Layla and I made a HUGE batch last night and it was wonderful. So good infact I had to brag about it. Bragging about food means.... sharing the food or at least the way to make it. So, little sister.... here it is. Enjoy!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tink's Amazing, Wonderful Salsa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4 large vine ripened tomatoes&lt;br /&gt;1 large green bell pepper&lt;br /&gt;1 jalapeño pepper&lt;br /&gt;¼ cup fresh cilantro&lt;br /&gt;½ yellow onion&lt;br /&gt;Salt&lt;br /&gt;Ground black pepper&lt;br /&gt;Minced garlic (optional)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dice tomato, peppers, onion and cilantro and put in a large bowl. Add 2 teaspoons of salt and garlic if desired and stir well. Let sit for 15 to 30 minutes then taste.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Add more salt if necessary, more bell pepper if you want more crunch, more jalapeño if you need more heat. Grab a bag of tortilla chips, a large glass of iced tea or sangria and call me to come visit!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-8224446353103086779?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/8224446353103086779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=8224446353103086779' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/8224446353103086779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/8224446353103086779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/07/mmmm-salsa.html' title='Mmmm, Salsa'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RpOmUqmCTLI/AAAAAAAAAbg/8wy_s5bbSok/s72-c/DSC00594.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-1741244924066247046</id><published>2007-07-10T09:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-10T10:21:37.727-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sacrifice'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='adoption'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='foster parents'/><title type='text'>The Visit</title><content type='html'>So many emotions mingle together. Relief leads the pack but, it's closely followed by a nervous excitement. It's all okay, it's going to be okay and, well, maybe even fun. There will be ups and downs, hills not mountains I hope. There will be good days and bad days and things may get rocky sometimes but, I know in my heart it will all be okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She and are I are very different but, we do have some things in common. We both love to talk, tell stories and laugh. She is very funny and she has a good heart. She loves children even if she parents so much differently than I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How hard this must be for her. The feelings she has to over come, the anger and jealousy. I can't imagine what it would be to watch others raise your children. Four different homes, four different families with different ideals, values and boundaries. She has come so far, learned so much. Still, this has to be so difficult and so painful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We greeted each other with a hug. Gypsy has the right idea about hugs. Then, we moved to sit at the kitchen table. The kitchen is my haven. I feel it's the heart of a home, not a house maybe, but certainly of a home. We sat, we talked and we laughed. I told her about the kids visit to the mountains. What they are doing there and the new friends they have made. She told me about the visits she had with the other the other children and their new families. Soon, the children's worker arrived but the conversation stayed about the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The visit lasted nearly two hours. The little ones watched a movie in their oldest sister's room with her supervising. I know it made her happy to know both her moms were below her talking and learning to trust each other. She came down to make sandwiches for lunch as the worker and her mom were preparing to leave. She gave hugs, chatted for a few minutes and said good bye. They will see each other again in a week. She seems content.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hikes in the autumn to see the leaves turn, cookie baking in the winter and visits to the park in spring. So much to look forward to, a new member of the family. Like the children grew in my heart so too is their mother. The woman that gave them life and then loved them so desperately she chose to give them a family that she could not. I am grateful to her, in awe of what it must have taken to make the choice she did. The greatest gift she could, the gift of sacrifice that only comes from true and unconditional love.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-1741244924066247046?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/1741244924066247046/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=1741244924066247046' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/1741244924066247046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/1741244924066247046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/07/visit.html' title='The Visit'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-5449019059146255224</id><published>2007-07-09T08:27:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-09T09:22:02.771-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Meeting of Minds, Meeting of Hearts</title><content type='html'>There is a get-together at my house today. It will be an interesting event. A meeting of minds and hearts that could impact the lives of many people. My family, my children, other falmilies and their children.  The effects of this meeting will be both immediate and long term.  So much is at stake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the duration of my journey there have been many difficult choices to make. So much that can impact the lives of so many. Government leaders, corporate leaders, teachers and judges make choices everyday that have the potential to impact thousands. I do not posses the kind of power that will impact the masses. But, how I respond to, react to, and treat the biological mother of my soon to be adopted children will impact how they see me, how they view the world. All the lessons in kindness, forgiveness, respect and trust will be put to the test.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We don't have to agree on everything. We won't agree on a lot of things. We do have so much in common. Children, we have children in common. We both love them. We both want what is best for them. We will both fly into a righteous rage when we feel they are in danger and we both have that right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She gave birth to them. They have grown in my heart. They call us both "mom". They love us both and they look to us to guide them as they grow. They will always know her, she will always be part of their lives. This makes her part of my life, part of our family. A family bound by love rather than blood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each word will be measured, each response weighed, body language and expressions evaluated. Time is short, the players in this life drama will arrive soon. The path is getting narrow and soon it will branch off. I will have to choose and my choice will dictate the direction of the next leg of the journey.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-5449019059146255224?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/5449019059146255224/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=5449019059146255224' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/5449019059146255224'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/5449019059146255224'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/07/there-is-meeting-taking-place-at-my.html' title='Meeting of Minds, Meeting of Hearts'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-1876265624355703722</id><published>2007-07-09T08:10:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-09T08:26:15.105-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Tribal Art</title><content type='html'>Mouse is at Camp, JL and the Princess at the cabin with Grandma and Grandpa.  The Tribe is now only four strong.  Not that four of this tribe can't do some serious damage if left alone for a second or two.  Bj's favorite is to finger paint on the play room rug with pudding.  He prefers the tast of vanilla but the chocolate is so much more vivid on the light rug.  A few sprinkles of red kool-aid from a sippy-cup adds a nice contrast.  There is nothing I love more than tribal art!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-1876265624355703722?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/1876265624355703722/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=1876265624355703722' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/1876265624355703722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/1876265624355703722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/07/tribal-art.html' title='Tribal Art'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-7621310735722171292</id><published>2007-07-02T08:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-02T08:35:50.880-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I Want Bewwies</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RojwzeRcTXI/AAAAAAAAAbQ/XV5WchruWQs/s1600-h/DSC00430.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5082576946577821042" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RojwzeRcTXI/AAAAAAAAAbQ/XV5WchruWQs/s200/DSC00430.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am not sure how it is that kids find you and NEEEEDDDD you at the exact moment you most long for piece and quiet. It seems that not matter where I am or what I am doing if it's "me" time my really short shadow appears and whines, cries or kicks me in the shin until I give in give him some attention.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Last weekend my shadow found the wild black raspberries growing around the cabin. It mattered little to him that I had just sat down, put my feet up and opened my book. He wanted me to get him the "bewwies" NOW! No pretzel or crackers would do, it had to be bewwies. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5082575091151949154" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RojvHeRcTWI/AAAAAAAAAbI/JVeGvIyb6ME/s200/DSC00431.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ok, fine, bewwies it is... I put down the book, put on some shoes and mumbled and grumbled as I trudged over the hill, hoping to avoid snakes and poison ivy on the way. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As is the way with small shadows, the reward is always worth the effort. "Oh, tank you" and a kiss in both cheeks just for a hand full of bewwies.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RojwzuRcTYI/AAAAAAAAAbY/kqleva7YoNc/s1600-h/DSC00434.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5082576950872788354" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RojwzuRcTYI/AAAAAAAAAbY/kqleva7YoNc/s200/DSC00434.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-7621310735722171292?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/7621310735722171292/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=7621310735722171292' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/7621310735722171292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/7621310735722171292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/07/i-want-bewwies.html' title='I Want Bewwies'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RojwzeRcTXI/AAAAAAAAAbQ/XV5WchruWQs/s72-c/DSC00430.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-7529030975350213127</id><published>2007-07-02T06:54:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-02T08:10:40.599-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Battle of the Bees</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RojpfuRcTUI/AAAAAAAAAa4/YHAYsAGzrWY/s1600-h/DSC00445.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5082568910694010178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RojpfuRcTUI/AAAAAAAAAa4/YHAYsAGzrWY/s200/DSC00445.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, &lt;a href="http://thelaughinggypsy.blogspot.com/2007/06/racing-weedwacker.html"&gt;"Racing the Weedwacker"&lt;/a&gt; was posted first but, my bee has a friend!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-7529030975350213127?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/7529030975350213127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=7529030975350213127' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/7529030975350213127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/7529030975350213127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/07/battle-of-bees.html' title='Battle of the Bees'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RojpfuRcTUI/AAAAAAAAAa4/YHAYsAGzrWY/s72-c/DSC00445.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-7479661831807162720</id><published>2007-06-30T10:54:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-30T12:46:16.823-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Down by the River Side</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RoaIXORcTTI/AAAAAAAAAaw/BKjOQmqsKi4/s1600-h/DSC00515.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RoaIXORcTTI/AAAAAAAAAaw/BKjOQmqsKi4/s200/DSC00515.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5081899162083806514" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Tribe played, baked, or otherwise kept themselves busy.  Layla was plopped in the way only a teenager can, in front of the tv.  Her eyes were blank and it was obvious that she was seeing nothing on the screen in front of her.  I tried to sit on the front stoop and read but, my mind refused to focus on the words in front of me.  I wandered back in and whispered to Layla, "go get in granma's truck".  She looked at me as if she couldn't quite grasp what I was telling her.  Then, she nodded, slipped on her tennis shoes and ambeled out the door in her slow, I am a totally bored teenager, way.  I told granma that I wanted to visit the river with Layla. "Will you watch the rest of the Tribe?"   She smiled and nodded.  It amazes me the way close families can communicate with few words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Where we goin'?" Laya asked as the old truck rattled to life.  "I thought the river might be pretty just now and I'm bored" I told her.  "Cool, me too".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we turned off the main road an onto the path to the water Layla spotted bunnies.  I grabbed for my camara and told her to take the wheel.  We moved forward slowly with me hanging out the window and trying to find the bunnies throught the view finder, Layla trying to keep us from driving into a ditch.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once at the waters edge she looked for pretty stones and I tried to find cool things to take pictures of.  We were together but focused on different things.  It allowed for comfortable conversation without strain or pressure. We watched fish jump, dragonflies race and threw stones.  We chatted and were just together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were both quiet on the walk back to the truck.  The ground was rocky and barren but as we rounded a corner I saw a tiny mustard plant that had not only pushed it's way up throught the rocks but had bloomed.  A tiny plant with a tenatious hold on life not only surved but prospered.  It reminded me of my Layla.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We drove home chattering and in good spirits.  It was a short but refreshing visit.  We were almost to the main road and Layla pointed out the window, "look, deer".  There at the edge of the clearing was a doe and fawn.  Both stoped and watched us with liquid brown eyes. Their ears and tails flicked but they stood frozen watching us watch them.  I tried for a picture but it blured as they moved into the cover of the forest.  Another great symbol, I don't question it's source.  A mother and child finding strength and facing the fear of the unknown together. No need to panic or run away, just head for the shelter where weary  find peace.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-7479661831807162720?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/7479661831807162720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=7479661831807162720' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/7479661831807162720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/7479661831807162720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/06/down-by-river-side.html' title='Down by the River Side'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RoaIXORcTTI/AAAAAAAAAaw/BKjOQmqsKi4/s72-c/DSC00515.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-8313988380801321718</id><published>2007-06-30T10:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-30T10:53:48.972-04:00</updated><title type='text'>BJ Calls me to Breakfast</title><content type='html'>"Mommy, time for dinner. Pancakes!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-8313988380801321718?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/8313988380801321718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=8313988380801321718' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/8313988380801321718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/8313988380801321718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/06/bj-calls-me-to-breakfast.html' title='BJ Calls me to Breakfast'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-8393076406606761417</id><published>2007-06-29T08:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-29T09:50:34.867-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Storm of Destruction and Pain</title><content type='html'>I could tell just by the way the storm looked at a distance that it was to be a bad one. There was none of the radiant light or cool winds of the leading edge that signal a powerful but much needed summer storm. This one loomed black and ominous, a solid wall of darkness that I somehow knew would break bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All afternoon it sat at a distance and continued to build. By early evening it had grown to massive proportions and I could feel it's dark presents without even looking to see it was there. Eventually it began to move forward, slowly at first then building speed and momentum. When it broke it was with the furry and rage of a wounded beast, mauling and maiming everything in it's path. Seeking to inflict as much damage and cause as much pain as possible before it's life drained away. It was an evil thing with a dark heart and seeking naught but to destroy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't say for sure how long it lasted it, a few hours maybe, but it felt like days. There was no chance of sleep, no way to find comfort. It drained the hope and wearied the hearts of all it came upon. When it did eventually move off it left a wake of devastation and pain. What had taken years to build up was laid to waste in mere minutes, all that was left lay desolate and empty. Shattered remnants of what had been before could be found scattered about, bits and pieces of what bad once been lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What happens next is yet to be seen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-8393076406606761417?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/8393076406606761417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=8393076406606761417' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/8393076406606761417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/8393076406606761417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/06/storm-of-destruction-and-pain.html' title='Storm of Destruction and Pain'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-8048270166179595016</id><published>2007-06-24T21:13:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-24T21:49:31.938-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Tribe vs. The Staypuff Man</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rn8eSafa_qI/AAAAAAAAAZU/rPA3k-eE3_4/s1600-h/DSC00309.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rn8eSafa_qI/AAAAAAAAAZU/rPA3k-eE3_4/s200/DSC00309.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5079812206394801826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rn8eS6fa_rI/AAAAAAAAAZc/lMwZCnHLyeA/s1600-h/DSC00302.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rn8eS6fa_rI/AAAAAAAAAZc/lMwZCnHLyeA/s200/DSC00302.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5079812214984736434" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rn8eTKfa_sI/AAAAAAAAAZk/2yh4OuIhSMM/s1600-h/DSC00312.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rn8eTKfa_sI/AAAAAAAAAZk/2yh4OuIhSMM/s200/DSC00312.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5079812219279703746" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday at the cabin with Granma and PaPaw, kitties, doggies, lots of outside space to play and just being away from the routine of home.  The Tribe is in heaven!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The best thing about the cabin is cooking over the open fire.  No bbq here, this is an open pit with real wood and a grate that swings over the coals to grill on.  Eveything tastes better over the open fire.  The Tribe follows Papaw to the pile of dead and down wood.  Wagons and wheelbarows are loaded and off to the pit they go. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a scrumptous dinner of grilled burgers and squash from the garden it's time to break out the 'smarsh mallows'. The fire has burned low and the coals are nice and hot.  The rocks around the edge of the fire pit are the perfect resting spot  a roasting stick.  The heat is on!  Who can have the best toasted mallow without having to put out flame?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They did well, no burns, only a few mallow sacrefices to the pit fire goddess, lots of sticky faces and fingers!  Score one for The Tribe, the Staypuff man has been defeated... and he was DEWISHOUS!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-8048270166179595016?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/8048270166179595016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=8048270166179595016' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/8048270166179595016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/8048270166179595016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/06/tribe-vs-staypuff-man.html' title='The Tribe vs. The Staypuff Man'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rn8eSafa_qI/AAAAAAAAAZU/rPA3k-eE3_4/s72-c/DSC00309.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-5693809466821456510</id><published>2007-06-22T22:03:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-22T22:08:45.459-04:00</updated><title type='text'>X-Men Personality Test</title><content type='html'>Okay, it wasn't my first choice but I can't argue, he likes to fight and the whiskers are cute!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.zipperfish.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.zipperfish.com/free/quizimages/beast.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.zipperfish.com/quizzes/quiz/x-men-personality-test/"&gt;http://www.zipperfish.com/quizzes/quiz/x-men-personality-test/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-5693809466821456510?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/5693809466821456510/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=5693809466821456510' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/5693809466821456510'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/5693809466821456510'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/06/x-men-personality-test.html' title='X-Men Personality Test'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-8632280774268195616</id><published>2007-06-22T20:02:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-22T20:44:14.582-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Wipe Out</title><content type='html'>He was racing his bike up and down the driveway as fast as he could possibly go. He's only had the training wheels off for a few weeks but he has no fear of falling, no idea that anything bad could happen to him. I refuse to watch! With every wiggle of the front tire, every near miss I can see him sailing through the air and I know there is no way to catch him, no way to stop the pain of the impact or the terror he'll feel in the milliseconds preceding it. I pull weeds, with my back to the driveway, refusing to look up. My mind wanders to some of the nasty crashes on my bike when I was a kid. It's part of life, part of growing up and into who we will one day be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My thoughts are jolted my a scream, Maaaaammmmm!!!!!! MOMMY, MOMMY! I jump up and out or my thoughts. The inevitable has happened, he's wiped out. I run to the end of the driveway, I never realized how long it is. He is sitting up holding his knees. His helmet is still on straight so I know the critical part is okay. As I carry him into the house the crying stops, man that is a really looong driveway. He has ugly scrapes and some mild road rash but nothing a jumbo band-aid, a spoon of peanut butter and a movie won't fix. After lots of hugs and kisses I tell him it was a really cool crash and he was really brave. He grins, "thanks mom".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I'm popping popcorn for the movie and spooning the peanut butter I think back on the wipe outs I've had today. I realize then that my Father was watching me, seeing the front wheel wobble, watching me go faster and faster until the inevitable happened. "I'm here" He said, "let me carry you for a while, until you feel better". Unlike Farm Boy I didn't cry out, I should have but I didn't. He was there anyway. Always there ready to pick up the pieces when I have raced off on my own. Even when I fail to heed His warnings, when I go and do without consulting Him first, even when I break His heart He is there to shelter me in his love and mercy. I have to wonder though, since I'm sure there are no weeds in heaven what does He do while He waits for me to crash?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-8632280774268195616?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/8632280774268195616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=8632280774268195616' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/8632280774268195616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/8632280774268195616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/06/wipe-out.html' title='Wipe Out'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-4184513429382556871</id><published>2007-06-21T21:56:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-21T22:32:08.131-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Farm Boy</title><content type='html'>&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078709855793642786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RnsztKfa_SI/AAAAAAAAAUw/jPG_qgOtEZQ/s200/DSC00137.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078709851498675474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rnszs6fa_RI/AAAAAAAAAUo/O0tNc2rVE8A/s200/DSC00165.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rnsztafa_TI/AAAAAAAAAU4/2g7MPW5jzQg/s1600-h/Farm+BOy.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078709860088610098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rnsztafa_TI/AAAAAAAAAU4/2g7MPW5jzQg/s200/Farm+BOy.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rnsv2Kfa_OI/AAAAAAAAAUI/FjSIjxnyCLE/s1600-h/Farm+BOy.bmp"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;"As you wish."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rnsv2qfa_PI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/XlX62OBcwFo/s1600-h/DSC00165.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rnsv2qfa_PI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/XlX62OBcwFo/s1600-h/DSC00165.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-4184513429382556871?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/4184513429382556871/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=4184513429382556871' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/4184513429382556871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/4184513429382556871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/06/farm-boy.html' title='Farm Boy'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RnsztKfa_SI/AAAAAAAAAUw/jPG_qgOtEZQ/s72-c/DSC00137.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-7233093823374759873</id><published>2007-06-21T08:35:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-21T10:29:01.450-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Spontaneous Hay Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RnqI7afa-5I/AAAAAAAAARY/FOuX7T0k8ko/s1600-h/DSC00166.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078522084118428562" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RnqI7afa-5I/AAAAAAAAARY/FOuX7T0k8ko/s200/DSC00166.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Not sure what to do with the family on a sweltering summers afternoon? Tired of going to the pool, grilling in the back yard? Why not try having a spontaneous hay day (SHD)! For your very own SHD all you need is a friend with hay fields that have been cut and baled, a tractor, hay wagon, hay elevator and an empty hay loft. For extra excitement you can throw in an impending thunder storm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Our SHD started with a phone call from Gyps asking "how many kids do you have today". This is a difficult question because I never pay attention to how many kids are at my house on any given day at any given hour. There are always more than a few and less than you'd find at Kings Dominion. I had to think about this... okay two that are just on loan from the neighbor are leaving in about 30 minutes..."ummm, let me see, five kids and Todd so that's six"!  Gyps explains the event for the afternoon, hay, heat, humidity and kids (that will be dead tired when we are done). "I'll be there in an hour" I told her. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We pull up to the farm to see and empty hay wagon parked beside the road. "Oh darn" Todd said. "I guess they're done already". The Tribe make disappointed kid sounds in the back of the van. "Just keep going" I tell him. We crest the hill and round the corner to the horse barn and there is the OTHER hay wagon being unloaded and bales being run up the elevator, (a long, elevated belt that takes the bales from ground level up into the loft). The Tribe pile out and charge forward in mass towards the belts, chains and gears of the moving elevator. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;After introductions and a little organization we went to work. We had workers in the loft to catching bales and handing them to others that could throw the bale to the top of the pile and stack it. Another team worked out in the hot sun carrying bales to the elevator and the last team went out into the field to pick up bales and throw them in the hay wagon as it rolled past.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was an &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AWSOME&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; day&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Everyone worked at top speed due to the rumbling of thunder in the distance. All afternoon we stacked, carried and threw bales like people possessed. Lungs burning with hay dust, eyes stinging with sweat and arms aching, we shoved the last bale into the loft and scoope&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RnqF3afa-3I/AAAAAAAAARI/jzT_6lW2Pn0/s1600-h/DSC00167.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078518716864068466" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RnqF3afa-3I/AAAAAAAAARI/jzT_6lW2Pn0/s200/DSC00167.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;d the last of the loose fallen hay under cover just as the rain began to fall.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As the rain pored down The Tribe loaded into the van. They were hot, smelly, dog tired, smelly, itchy and did I mention smelly, oh and they were beaming with pride. They made new friends and got to hang with the Gypsinator. We got to work together as a family. Even Todd had a good time and I was in heaven. Hay, horses, my favorite twin sister and my totally hot (literally and figuratively) farm boy / husband. Yes, life is good!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hay has been used for thousands of years as a binding agent for bricks. Mix hay or straw with some mud, bake it in the hot hot sun and it can last through the ages. I see now that hay and hot sun can bind families and friends as well.&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RnqF46fa-4I/AAAAAAAAARQ/Sb2i2B-jcsU/s1600-h/DSC00180.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078518742633872258" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RnqF46fa-4I/AAAAAAAAARQ/Sb2i2B-jcsU/s200/DSC00180.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-7233093823374759873?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/7233093823374759873/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=7233093823374759873' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/7233093823374759873'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/7233093823374759873'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/06/spontaneous-hay-day.html' title='Spontaneous Hay Day'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RnqI7afa-5I/AAAAAAAAARY/FOuX7T0k8ko/s72-c/DSC00166.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-7800606964364380505</id><published>2007-06-18T21:33:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-18T22:21:25.496-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Board Breaking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Karate'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Blue Heron Dojo'/><title type='text'>Board Breaking</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rnc9i6fa-qI/AAAAAAAAAPY/5vStbBdUuMk/s1600-h/yellow+belt.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077594774909418146" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rnc9i6fa-qI/AAAAAAAAAPY/5vStbBdUuMk/s320/yellow+belt.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;At my very first Karate &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;shiai&lt;/span&gt; (test) I stood in front of the testing &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;panel&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;announced&lt;/span&gt;, "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Sensei&lt;/span&gt;, I will attempt to... !" &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Sensei&lt;/span&gt; Peeler, the head of our style who had flown in Detroit just for this test stopped me. "You will what" he asked? I realized my mistake as it came from my mouth and now, in front of a very large group of very high ranking Karate masters I knew that everyone had heard it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shaking in my gee I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;announced&lt;/span&gt; again, "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Sensei&lt;/span&gt;, I &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;will&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; break one board with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;otoshi&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;tettsui&lt;/span&gt; (downward hammer fist)".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first thought was to throw up but that would show a lack of respect in the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;dojo&lt;/span&gt;. As I move towards the board and the cinder blocks holding it up my knees began to shake. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Sensei&lt;/span&gt; was in front of me guiding my stance and wind-up. The Tribe was behind me cheering me on. I cleared my mind and moved into my stance. Breath, wind up, breath, punch, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;kiai&lt;/span&gt; (yell), BANG! The board was not in two pieces at my feet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I quickly forgot the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;tingling&lt;/span&gt; in my hand and soaked up the screams and cheers from The Tribe and the rest of the class behind me. This was just the first of many firsts in my journey through the world of martial arts (just wait 'till I tell you about my chi). But, it was a break through (no pun intended) for my mind. I was able to use my mind and body as a tool to do some serious damage to a 1 inch thick board. I was strong and powerful, I am strong and powerful, 1 inch thick boards everywhere fear me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday my mind and body will again be tested. This time I decided to play Bruce Lee and break with an open knife hand. I poke at the soft flesh on the lower part of my hand that runs upwards towards my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;pinkie&lt;/span&gt; finger. Not very dangerous looking. I wonder, did I take on too much... can I really do this and not do serious damage to my hand? I can do this, I will do this and Saturday evening I will tie my yellow belt around my shattered board and my blue belt around my waist! I am strong, I am powerful!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-7800606964364380505?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/7800606964364380505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=7800606964364380505' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/7800606964364380505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/7800606964364380505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/06/at-my-very-first-karate-shiai-test-i.html' title='Board Breaking'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rnc9i6fa-qI/AAAAAAAAAPY/5vStbBdUuMk/s72-c/yellow+belt.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-1584899428438736924</id><published>2007-06-17T16:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-17T17:01:50.860-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Fragments</title><content type='html'>An idea comes into my head.  A dream has been living in my heart for a long time now.  The two begin to meld.  But, there is so much &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;fragmentation&lt;/span&gt;.  Like a piece of shattered pottery that I have never seen complete and now I need to put it back together.  The pieces drift thought my mind, tiny bits that look familiar and then spaces where just nothing seems to fit.  I know the Lord is trying to speak to me and I am working so hard to figure out what he is saying.  I'm blocking Him out.  This has to be His plan, His dream and all I can contribute is my willingness and faith.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even in it's fragmented state the unfolding idea is an island and I am on the far shore looking through a misty shroud across the water.  A bridge must be built... stone by stone, each carefully placed until a way is made to cross.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-1584899428438736924?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/1584899428438736924/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=1584899428438736924' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/1584899428438736924'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/1584899428438736924'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/06/fragments.html' title='Fragments'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-3042602273003013104</id><published>2007-06-15T17:13:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-15T17:38:37.275-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Headin' Home</title><content type='html'>Today was cool and wet. We had planned one last day at the beach but ended up at the outlet mall instead. After the wet start I had hoped to spend a few more hours exploring Brookgreen Gardens, but the glut of incoming vacationers on the highway prevented that from happening. Such is life while on vacation. It's all an adventure and more fun if each moment is lived rather than choreographed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now what? We have to pack this evening so that we can load and roll first thing tomorrow. I guess the beach and gardens will have to wait until next year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The week has flown by and tons of fun was had by all. Some did well and others need some work on dealing with excitement and self control. Being this was our first real vacation with the entire tribe of nine I think we did okay. New movies have been purchased for the return trip and a new route has been plotted (some little bug in my ear said it's never any fun to back track). The girls will have to "wear" their boogie boards to get them home and I plan to make Todd stop frequently for photos. I guess that means the vacation isn't over until we are all snuggled at home in our beds. Oh, I can't wait!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Get he escrima sticks ready Gyps!!! The Tribe is commin' home!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-3042602273003013104?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/3042602273003013104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=3042602273003013104' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/3042602273003013104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/3042602273003013104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/06/headin-home.html' title='Headin&apos; Home'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-960244743865424479</id><published>2007-06-13T21:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-13T22:25:00.603-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Brookgreen Gardens</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RnCmrafa-nI/AAAAAAAAAOI/i1QL1D_av_0/s1600-h/DSC00105.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075740044822248050" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RnCmrafa-nI/AAAAAAAAAOI/i1QL1D_av_0/s320/DSC00105.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RnCmrqfa-oI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/RmHotPS8nYA/s1600-h/DSC00095.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075740049117215362" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RnCmrqfa-oI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/RmHotPS8nYA/s320/DSC00095.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RnCmr6fa-pI/AAAAAAAAAOY/zyXFsTJlq2g/s1600-h/DSC00109.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075740053412182674" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RnCmr6fa-pI/AAAAAAAAAOY/zyXFsTJlq2g/s320/DSC00109.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wandered along winding stone paths, marveling at the intricate sculptures, manicured gardens and unique flowers. I was in awe of the Spanish moss trailing from ancient live oak trees who's massive arms hugged the earth as though the years and sorrows of those who admired them sapped them of all strength. Over head thunder clouds billowed towards the heavens. The sky darkened and thunder pounded an ominous warning for all who would listen. Drum beats and cannon fire from days gone by. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The Dogwood Garden and The Trail Beyond the Garden Wall beckoned but the impending storm kept me at bay. The pictures and memories call to me, pulling me back to see what beauty lies around the next bend in the path. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-960244743865424479?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/960244743865424479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=960244743865424479' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/960244743865424479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/960244743865424479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/06/brookgreen-gardens.html' title='Brookgreen Gardens'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/RnCmrafa-nI/AAAAAAAAAOI/i1QL1D_av_0/s72-c/DSC00105.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-374518793869273041</id><published>2007-06-13T08:56:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-13T09:33:05.763-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Home Sick</title><content type='html'>Am I a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;curmudgeon&lt;/span&gt; or are the bonds that tie me to home stronger that I thought??? Before we left I was feeling trapped by the routine. School, day to day chores, squeezing in a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;smidge&lt;/span&gt; of time for a riding / training lesson, trying to get dinner cooked and on the table before karate class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I woke up with a twinge, an ache deep inside. Suddenly I was desperate to get to the PC so I could check on the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Gypsinator's&lt;/span&gt; blog and see what is happening at home... maybe if I was lucky I'd get an email from Mom and in an hour I'd call Jen to see how things are with her kids, animals, and life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had no idea how safe and secure my routine is. There is comfort in the little things that make life &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;mundane&lt;/span&gt;, or at least seem &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;mundane&lt;/span&gt;. The storms here don't build the same as at home, the people are friendly but they aren't the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;familiar&lt;/span&gt; faces that I know I've seen before, there are no little furry faces that follow me from room to room. I know that once we get moving I'll feel better but at this moment.... I just want to go home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-374518793869273041?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/374518793869273041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=374518793869273041' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/374518793869273041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/374518793869273041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/06/home-sick.html' title='Home Sick'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-8772697468312556165</id><published>2007-06-12T19:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-12T19:55:39.635-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Siesta at the Beach</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rm8yQafa-TI/AAAAAAAAAKg/DxX6AFwgahI/s1600-h/DSC00066.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075330562640247090" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rm8yQafa-TI/AAAAAAAAAKg/DxX6AFwgahI/s320/DSC00066.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rm8yQqfa-UI/AAAAAAAAAKo/tGecqFo8mN8/s1600-h/DSC00068.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075330566935214402" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rm8yQqfa-UI/AAAAAAAAAKo/tGecqFo8mN8/s320/DSC00068.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rm8yQ6fa-VI/AAAAAAAAAKw/9trmI0Oe0d4/s1600-h/DSC00067.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075330571230181714" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rm8yQ6fa-VI/AAAAAAAAAKw/9trmI0Oe0d4/s320/DSC00067.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We are all crispy kritters but what a day at the beach! We took lot's of sunscreen, water, snacks and an umbrella. Todd and the bigger kids spent most of the day in the surf. The littler ones and I stayed at the water line and played in the breakers. The water was cool but not cold, the sun warm but with the breeze the temp was perfect. After a few hours in the sun and sand the tribe decided a siesta was the next best course of action.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-8772697468312556165?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/8772697468312556165/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=8772697468312556165' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/8772697468312556165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/8772697468312556165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/06/siesta-at-beach.html' title='Siesta at the Beach'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rm8yQafa-TI/AAAAAAAAAKg/DxX6AFwgahI/s72-c/DSC00066.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-286988603113639032</id><published>2007-06-12T08:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-12T09:01:31.341-04:00</updated><title type='text'>We call him Shark Bite</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rm6ZAqfa-MI/AAAAAAAAAJk/uKR3aU7o64U/s1600-h/DSC00044.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075162066778257602" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rm6ZAqfa-MI/AAAAAAAAAJk/uKR3aU7o64U/s320/DSC00044.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think the shark may fit over my ridding helmet.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-286988603113639032?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/286988603113639032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=286988603113639032' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/286988603113639032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/286988603113639032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/06/we-call-him-shark-bite.html' title='We call him Shark Bite'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rm6ZAqfa-MI/AAAAAAAAAJk/uKR3aU7o64U/s72-c/DSC00044.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-3950813592478271138</id><published>2007-06-11T23:06:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-12T08:35:03.349-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Tribe Invades the South</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/gointribal/TheTribeInvadesTheSouth"&gt;Photos of the Tribal Invasion&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-3950813592478271138?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/3950813592478271138/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=3950813592478271138' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/3950813592478271138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/3950813592478271138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/06/tribe-invades-south.html' title='The Tribe Invades the South'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-5817437585578793234</id><published>2007-06-11T06:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-11T23:09:18.354-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birth-day JT!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rm4OQ6fa-KI/AAAAAAAAAJM/AOy4oMuMVzk/s1600-h/DSC00057.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075009513834870946" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rm4OQ6fa-KI/AAAAAAAAAJM/AOy4oMuMVzk/s320/DSC00057.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sparkling green eyes peer up at me through whisps of wind blown blond hair. "Tell me again what we're gonna' do for my birth-day, mom". Gee so many choices, there are fireworks tonight at the golf course so that's a given, and he said he wanted to go out for dinner. "Do you still want to eat out tonight" I ask. "Oh yea, steak remember". He is only turning 6... but he knows I love baked potato.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I say only turning 6 but in so many countries he would be one of only a few that live past the age of 5. He is a charmer, smart and always ready with snappy come-back. Being five years younger than his sister JT was essentially an only child. He spent his first three years rarely seeing anthing lower than my hip... or his dad's arms. Then one day everything changed! A two month old baby came into his world. Followed shortly after by an 18 month old baby... For the first time JT had to share his toys, his sippy cups and OH MAN, his mommy. A year later an older brother and sister were added to the mix. Another year and he got yet another older sister. He took each is stride and now just assumes that all families are like his, The Tribe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last summer a few of his siblings were at a visit to Grandma's house. "It's too quiet here" he said. "I would hate to not have lots of brothers and sisters. It makes me sad". He has few memories of life as the youngest of two children. His world has changed and he's willingly adapted. He has learned to share, think of others first and he is aware, at a very tender age, of the ugliness in the world. He knows that there are children who are sad, alone, hungry and sick. He also believes that Jesus is a super hero who helps sad kids. (Go J!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, here's to you JT! My little sunshine, full of kindness for all living things, a bubbeling cup joy and wonder. You make the world a better place for just being in it. I hope you have the happiest birth-day ever!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-5817437585578793234?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/5817437585578793234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=5817437585578793234' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/5817437585578793234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/5817437585578793234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/06/happy-birth-day-jt.html' title='Happy Birth-day JT!!'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_kKZ7Yz-D6hU/Rm4OQ6fa-KI/AAAAAAAAAJM/AOy4oMuMVzk/s72-c/DSC00057.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-1613023467499936175</id><published>2007-06-10T08:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-10T09:26:48.561-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Journey of the Tribe</title><content type='html'>&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;02:30 am&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; - and the alarm is going off. Was I of sound mind when I agreeded to this?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;04:30 am&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; - Kitten is tucked in with Gran-ma (he tried to sneek into my luggage twice). Seven sleepy heads are now wide awake and buckled into car-seat, booster-seats and seat belts. The excitement is palpable as the van rolls out into the pre-dawn light.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;06:30 am&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; - After an hour three little ones have noded off again. The rest are glued to a DVD (I love technology). BJ wakes up and wants food. He is soon followed by the rest of the Tribe. A hungry tribe is a force to be reckoned with. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;08:30 am&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; - Shoney's buffett will never be the same again.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;1:00 pm&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; - Eight hours in the car and only a few stops for "tinlkle winkle" and petrol. We have to feed the Tribe again. The din is mind numbing and I'm getting really grumpy! Hurray for Burger King with a playground.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;2:30 pm&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; - We have found "home" for the next week. It's beautiful and really clean, with glass glasses, light colored carpet under the dinning table and it's on the third floor. (thank you Sensei for the strength training).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;4:30 pm&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; - The three youngest of the Tribe witness the beauty and magnifigance of the ocean for the first time. Todd and I stand in the breakers as seven beautiful little people search for shells in the sand and squeal with delight as the waves wash over their feet. The fussing and whining are forgotten. My heart soars and my eyes mist. "Thank you Lord for this day and this opportunity". A feeling of pure joy and satisfaction washes over me. "Mom, I gotta' go pee pee". Back to the real world.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;7:00 pm&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; - Note to self - avoid at all cost grocery stores on Saturday evening is a beach town. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;9:00 pm&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; - Seven little ones are asleep. My eyes feel like burnt holes in a blanket. We survived day one.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-1613023467499936175?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/1613023467499936175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=1613023467499936175' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/1613023467499936175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/1613023467499936175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/06/journey-of-tribe.html' title='Journey of the Tribe'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-5529430961976434875</id><published>2007-06-09T03:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-09T03:36:50.766-04:00</updated><title type='text'>And We're Off</title><content type='html'>Hopfully my beach updates will be more timley than the beach cam. Either it's hung up or.... could it be that it's always day time in Myrtle Beach?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;So, how many times will JT ask, how much longer?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;How many times will we leave a rest stop and M will say "I need to go potty"?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;The answers to these and more questions to follow!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-5529430961976434875?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/5529430961976434875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=5529430961976434875' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/5529430961976434875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/5529430961976434875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/06/and-were-off.html' title='And We&apos;re Off'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-7097509204778448325</id><published>2007-06-07T12:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-07T13:00:16.277-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Going to the Beach</title><content type='html'>The plan is to depart at 04:00 Saturday morning... after copeus amounts of coffee that is. Arrive just after lunch, nap at the beach and go out to a nice casual dinner with the family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With 7 kids... yea right. But oh what an adventure it will be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gypsinator where are you when your super powers are truly needed???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.myrtlebeachcams.com/beach-cams.html"&gt;Beach Cams in Myrtle Beach South Carolina - Cams on the Sand&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-7097509204778448325?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/7097509204778448325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=7097509204778448325' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/7097509204778448325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/7097509204778448325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/06/going-to-beach.html' title='Going to the Beach'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-3164993779534160831</id><published>2007-06-07T07:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-07T07:45:09.119-04:00</updated><title type='text'>She has to say good-bye today</title><content type='html'>Foster parenting can easliy be compared to a really wild roller-coaster that you ride over and over again.  Eventually you are able to tell that the ride is about to end and you know it won't be a gentle stop.  Rather, you will be faced with a sudden, controlled crash and you know something will get broken.... mostly you heart.&lt;br /&gt;Today, the little sister of my heart and her husband are nearing the end of their ride.  The two boys they took into their home and hearts over a year ago are moving to their forever home.  In the past few days they have fielded hours of questions and dried millions of tears.  The clothes and toys are packed, and all that is left are a few hills and loops before the ride ends this evening.&lt;br /&gt;Jen and Jae have had an amazing journey with these two boys.  There is light where once lived only darkness.  They have given themselves totally and unconditionally knowing that they would one day have to say good-bye.  They are the hands of Christ working to save the lost and forgotten.  Each day they plant tiny seeds in these little ones in their attempt to save the world one child at a time.&lt;br /&gt;Take heart dearest Jen, your transformation has been amazing too.  You aren't the same person as you were a year ago.  Take what you have learned, brace yourself and get ready for the next ride.  Todd and I are here for you all the way!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-3164993779534160831?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/3164993779534160831/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=3164993779534160831' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/3164993779534160831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/3164993779534160831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/06/she-has-to-say-good-bye-today.html' title='She has to say good-bye today'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-8483473210858234209</id><published>2007-06-06T10:28:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-06T12:39:19.959-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Time Moves On - Mommies are forever!</title><content type='html'>It seems only yesterday I was holding my beautiful three month old daughter. She was so tiny and perfect. I was so in love. My heart filled with joy as she babbled and smiled while gazing into my eyes. I was &lt;em&gt;"the mommy"&lt;/em&gt; and I knew I have been blessed with the greatest of miricles.&lt;br /&gt;So many people told me "enjoy every minute, they grow up so fast". Last night those words hit harder than ever as I watched my precious baby parade past with her 5th grade graduating class. She was so grown up, so beautiful. After the excitement died away and we got a few minutes alone she gazed into my eyes like so many times before. &lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I am still so in love and she assured me I am and will always be her &lt;em&gt;"mommy".&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-8483473210858234209?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/8483473210858234209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=8483473210858234209' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/8483473210858234209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/8483473210858234209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/06/time-moves-on-mommies-are-forever.html' title='Time Moves On - Mommies are forever!'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825918695878036770.post-8708339890728559445</id><published>2007-06-05T12:54:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-06T12:05:09.643-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Just enjoy the journey</title><content type='html'>I always wondered what I would be when I grew up.... I still wonder what I will be when I grow up. I've decided the easiest solution is to simply not grow up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have learned to follow the path before me and pray for guidance at each cross roads. Every day is a new creation and I have the chance to ask "Lord what adventures do you have planned for me today?" Wow, He and I have had some doosies! And, now that He has reunited me with my long lost twin sister, (a year younger than me, born to a different mother on the oppoiste coast... who am I to question God?) things are only getting better! Uncontrolable laughter, scenic routes and demolation derbies are merely the tip of the iceberg.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825918695878036770-8708339890728559445?l=gointribal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/feeds/8708339890728559445/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1825918695878036770&amp;postID=8708339890728559445' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/8708339890728559445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825918695878036770/posts/default/8708339890728559445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gointribal.blogspot.com/2007/06/just-enjoy-journey.html' title='Just enjoy the journey'/><author><name>Tink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255835598309429883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
