<?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-8578778803174227557</id><updated>2012-02-16T09:54:55.087-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Marie's Memories</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>45</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-7312388239396143249</id><published>2011-10-18T11:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-18T11:18:32.073-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When Things Were Just Going Good.....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tmaMRb3p0xg/Tp3CwfnMzgI/AAAAAAAACQ0/fL_3p36Xb70/s1600/splint.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tmaMRb3p0xg/Tp3CwfnMzgI/AAAAAAAACQ0/fL_3p36Xb70/s1600/splint.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Marie was doing so well. All the therapies had discharged her. She could walk with assistance and her appliances. She was doing sitting or laying down excersises.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;She was laughing and visiting, just like the "old Marie." Every day I would go to her house to do some things and visit. If I wasn't there, Fran was.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;A couple of days ago, Fran's brother called and said she had fallen. She wanted to go to the Emergency Room so off we went. After x-rays it was apparent that she had broken her wrist. Her arm was put in a splint. That was a really good idea; she seemed to feel better quickly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;It is taking her awhile to gain her strength, but if I know her, she will be better soon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4PaLcuXWWuQ/Tp2_CsIJylI/AAAAAAAACQk/0EhMmMXnrbQ/s1600/83D2A937079C5EC7C27C943A40EEF0A9.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4PaLcuXWWuQ/Tp2_CsIJylI/AAAAAAAACQk/0EhMmMXnrbQ/s1600/83D2A937079C5EC7C27C943A40EEF0A9.png" /&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/8578778803174227557-7312388239396143249?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/7312388239396143249/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2011/10/when-things-were-just-going-good.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/7312388239396143249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/7312388239396143249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2011/10/when-things-were-just-going-good.html' title='When Things Were Just Going Good.....'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tmaMRb3p0xg/Tp3CwfnMzgI/AAAAAAAACQ0/fL_3p36Xb70/s72-c/splint.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-991330996975414570</id><published>2011-09-25T16:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-25T16:15:25.032-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This Is Just Like The Center!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gVanj-0Hrio/Tn-1ysll7_I/AAAAAAAACOk/bSdivedDAhg/s1600/wheel+chair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gVanj-0Hrio/Tn-1ysll7_I/AAAAAAAACOk/bSdivedDAhg/s1600/wheel+chair.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Since Marie has come home from the rehab center, she has been inundated with therapy services. The first week she had a bath aide, nursing, occupational therapy, and physical therapy. Whew! Serveral times she has commented that this was just like the "center:." There was a bit of an edge to her voice. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;The phone would ring and she would say,"It is probably a therapy person."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;She has now been discharged from nursing visits. She will be continuing her physical and occupational therapies.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Her walking needs some work. She needs wheelchair, walker, and electic wheelchair or the combination thereof.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;I wasn't feeling &amp;nbsp;"top of the morning to you this morning so I called. Generally I go to check on them once or twice a day. Her son answered the phone and said that "they were making meatloaf." Yup, she is back at the helm!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VZt7B-wsq3k/Tn-zcLnhLhI/AAAAAAAACOg/HSpl4bVvqNs/s1600/83D2A937079C5EC7C27C943A40EEF0A9.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VZt7B-wsq3k/Tn-zcLnhLhI/AAAAAAAACOg/HSpl4bVvqNs/s1600/83D2A937079C5EC7C27C943A40EEF0A9.png" /&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/8578778803174227557-991330996975414570?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/991330996975414570/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2011/09/this-is-just-like-center.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/991330996975414570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/991330996975414570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2011/09/this-is-just-like-center.html' title='This Is Just Like The Center!'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gVanj-0Hrio/Tn-1ysll7_I/AAAAAAAACOk/bSdivedDAhg/s72-c/wheel+chair.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-3874227264807940843</id><published>2011-08-01T20:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-01T20:35:27.323-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Broken Window</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f-cN6w9TZXM/TjdwDXYgvdI/AAAAAAAACNk/8NgvEdZnhAU/s1600/broken+windo.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f-cN6w9TZXM/TjdwDXYgvdI/AAAAAAAACNk/8NgvEdZnhAU/s1600/broken+windo.png" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Since Marie has been in a rehab facility, we are able to listen to more stories without any interuption from television. We are careful to go when she is not scheduled for therapy. Today we heard a story that was new to me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;One day Marie came home from work. It was a hot day and she was very tired. She told the kids that she was tired and hot and was going to the yard and sit for awhile under the big shade tree. She told us that she said, "do you think you kids can stay out of trouble for just a little while, while I rest? They assured her that they could.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Marie said she had just got settled and crash! The not so subtle reminder that little boys cannot stay out of trouble when mama was tired and needed to rest.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;She ran towards the crash and the small one was innocently playing basketball. He reached up to catch it and his arm went through the window. Well, of course, blood was every where.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Off they went to the hospital they went where everything ended up well. I know that to be true because he was just here visiting this summer with his son and grandchildren!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8578778803174227557-3874227264807940843?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/3874227264807940843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2011/08/broken-window.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/3874227264807940843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/3874227264807940843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2011/08/broken-window.html' title='A Broken Window'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f-cN6w9TZXM/TjdwDXYgvdI/AAAAAAAACNk/8NgvEdZnhAU/s72-c/broken+windo.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-3076285929784273192</id><published>2011-07-26T13:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-26T13:19:16.935-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Marie's Recovery</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;As you know, Marie fell and broke her hip last week. She spent a week in the hospital and then was transferred to a rehab center that is very close to our home. We go to visit her once or twice a day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;She is working hard at her therapy even though it hurts. She does therapy she is not asked to, so we are extremely pleased at how she is doing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;The facility is beautiful. When you walk in the front room looks like a rain forest. The plants reach to the ceiling. It is filled with flat screen televisions, sitting rooms a small dining room for family get togethers and two activity rooms. It has a very large dining room. Marie really likes the food. She has a choice of two different entres for every meal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;When we visit she likes to tell us what she eats and what she does in therapy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;She is making friends with her roomate. She likes to tell her the stories of her life. The lady was amazed today at what a large family she had because hers was small.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Today Fran and I attended a combo music activity which was fantastic. Marie couldn't go because the pain pill made her so terrible tired.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;I will continue to give&amp;nbsp; you updates on Marie's progress. Thanks for checking in to facebook and Marie's Memories&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8578778803174227557-3076285929784273192?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/3076285929784273192/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2011/07/maries-recovery.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/3076285929784273192'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/3076285929784273192'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2011/07/maries-recovery.html' title='Marie&apos;s Recovery'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-4184141022741938828</id><published>2011-07-21T11:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-21T11:21:11.865-07:00</updated><title type='text'>NEW STORIES</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dG_aqeJZZLU/TihtqipTHuI/AAAAAAAACM0/ORg4uflVFYY/s1600/spike.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dG_aqeJZZLU/TihtqipTHuI/AAAAAAAACM0/ORg4uflVFYY/s1600/spike.png" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Marie broke her hip on Monday. She is an independent lady who likes to do things her way. (stubborn) lol.&amp;nbsp; She has never wanted any help but now she has decided it is not a bad idea. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;She was in a lot of pain at first but today she was sitting up eating her meals and telling us her stories.&amp;nbsp; But today was different, even Fran said the same things. New stories.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Marie was one of thirteen children, and it seemed she always had to be the one to do grown up work in the house. One day she wanted to go play with the boys which were much younger than she was, but she didn't care, they were having fun. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;In those days they didn't salt the highways when there was ice on them. The highway department sprayed a thin layer of sand on them. The sand was gotten from what they called a Sand Bank. So she jumped in just like the boys did. They had to save their shoes for Sunday so she was barefooted. She jumped off the top of the bank like the boys did. One thing was different. She landed on a 2x4 with two spikes in it. One of them went through her foot.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;The foot was bandaged and the doctor told her not to be such a tom boy. Her eyes twinkled when she told that story. Even if she was hurt you could tell she had fun and the hurt was worth it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gtFj-acPqeY/Tiht2KFiLLI/AAAAAAAACM4/z_RL9thMvBw/s1600/83D2A937079C5EC7C27C943A40EEF0A9.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gtFj-acPqeY/Tiht2KFiLLI/AAAAAAAACM4/z_RL9thMvBw/s1600/83D2A937079C5EC7C27C943A40EEF0A9.png" /&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/8578778803174227557-4184141022741938828?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/4184141022741938828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2011/07/new-stories.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/4184141022741938828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/4184141022741938828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2011/07/new-stories.html' title='NEW STORIES'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dG_aqeJZZLU/TihtqipTHuI/AAAAAAAACM0/ORg4uflVFYY/s72-c/spike.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-6896052286220621697</id><published>2011-07-08T17:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-08T17:43:29.114-07:00</updated><title type='text'>96 And Counting</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="post-header"&gt; &lt;div class="post-header-line-1"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-4544905580856128577"&gt; &lt;div class="separator" style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tLfuuIyWPlY/ThY4_en1jGI/AAAAAAAACLg/OC_pMR2d9l0/s1600/IMG_1401.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" m$="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tLfuuIyWPlY/ThY4_en1jGI/AAAAAAAACLg/OC_pMR2d9l0/s320/IMG_1401.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Nobody likes a party better than  Marie!  Every year like clock work she has  another birthday, a pretty cake,  company and presents!!&lt;br /&gt;This year was no different. The only thing different  was it wasn't as big. Last year she had several grandchildren and children at  her party and lots and lots of gifts.&lt;br /&gt;As people get older people don't know  what to get them because for the most part they already have what they need.  This year she had no problem telling her son from Texas exactly what she wanted,  a new electric can opener. When she opened it she told me, "Oh this is just what  I wanted, mine is so slow I was afraid it was going to quit someday."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="border: currentColor;"&gt;She  loved her cake. It was a yellow cake decorated with orange roses. She announced  to the group that she did not want any of us to eat at the end where the roses  were because she was going to take it home. I begged and pleaded with her to  have a bite of roses and then she laughed and said, "Of course you can." She  took the lions share of the cake home, a rose bush, a can opener and fresh  catfish that her two sons caught for her at our lake. I would personally hate to  choose which gift she liked the best. I would bet on the catfish! She got money  and cards in the mail and phone calls as well. For the majority of the day she  wore a smile.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6v4p1GVPeho/ThY7EGD-vsI/AAAAAAAACLk/x_SwsJy2S-4/s1600/IMG_1398.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" m$="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6v4p1GVPeho/ThY7EGD-vsI/AAAAAAAACLk/x_SwsJy2S-4/s200/IMG_1398.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border: currentColor;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jH7kMf22Abc/ThY9WXGF9dI/AAAAAAAACLs/zjI_AittOIQ/s1600/my+signature.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" m$="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jH7kMf22Abc/ThY9WXGF9dI/AAAAAAAACLs/zjI_AittOIQ/s1600/my+signature.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The pictures show what a good time she was having even though it  was a small party. I think the whole thing is that when people come to your very  special party that love you, it makes a wonderful party, don't you agree?  Even  great grandchildren, grandchildren and children, Oh and don't forget the  daughter-in-law!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="clear: both;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="lws_0"&gt; &lt;div class="linkwithin_outer" style="border: 0px currentColor; clear: both; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt; &lt;div class="linkwithin_inner" style="border: 0px currentColor; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; width: 358px;"&gt; &lt;div class="linkwithin_text" id="linkwithin_text_0" style="border: 0px currentColor; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; padding: 20px 0px 5px; text-align: left;"&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/8578778803174227557-6896052286220621697?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/6896052286220621697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2011/07/96-and-counting.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/6896052286220621697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/6896052286220621697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2011/07/96-and-counting.html' title='96 And Counting'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tLfuuIyWPlY/ThY4_en1jGI/AAAAAAAACLg/OC_pMR2d9l0/s72-c/IMG_1401.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-6270131848697200866</id><published>2011-05-21T10:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-21T10:22:02.120-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It Is Closed On  Tuesday!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5C_58PCsnaQ/Tdf0RXucY1I/AAAAAAAACIY/MfqgHx81Dho/s1600/eye+chart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" j8="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5C_58PCsnaQ/Tdf0RXucY1I/AAAAAAAACIY/MfqgHx81Dho/s1600/eye+chart.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Marie has had vision problems for quite some time, but Fran and I didn't&amp;nbsp;know to what extent&amp;nbsp; they were. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;We took her to an eye doctor when even she started complaining about it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;I went in with her during the exam. I started feeling ill when I heard the results of the beginning of the exam.&amp;nbsp; I went and got Fran so he could hear what&amp;nbsp;the doctor had to say.&amp;nbsp; She was blind in one eye.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;The doctor explained that she had a disease in one eye and a cataract in the other.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;If the cataract was removed she may be totally&amp;nbsp;blind for a few days. She said no she would try a new pair of glasses even though the doctor warned her that they may not work.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Two weeks later she had new glasses. We helped her in the car and she looked at the door and said, "Oh, they are closed on Tuesdays."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Well, I guess the new glasses helped.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hhhCKA-ykZs/Tdf0pKXvExI/AAAAAAAACIc/hISFH_DaIMo/s1600/my+signature.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" j8="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hhhCKA-ykZs/Tdf0pKXvExI/AAAAAAAACIc/hISFH_DaIMo/s1600/my+signature.bmp" /&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/8578778803174227557-6270131848697200866?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/6270131848697200866/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2011/05/it-is-closed-on-tuesday.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/6270131848697200866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/6270131848697200866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2011/05/it-is-closed-on-tuesday.html' title='It Is Closed On  Tuesday!'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5C_58PCsnaQ/Tdf0RXucY1I/AAAAAAAACIY/MfqgHx81Dho/s72-c/eye+chart.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-7556109557175013767</id><published>2011-01-02T09:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-02T09:08:55.470-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Kids In The Hats!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TSCuDyoG4pI/AAAAAAAACDU/OdrgvbQaunQ/s1600/sam+in+new+hat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TSCuDyoG4pI/AAAAAAAACDU/OdrgvbQaunQ/s320/sam+in+new+hat.jpg" width="224" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TSCuO9UxY4I/AAAAAAAACDY/NHB1-LnyVls/s1600/nick+and+new+hat+2010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TSCuO9UxY4I/AAAAAAAACDY/NHB1-LnyVls/s200/nick+and+new+hat+2010.jpg" width="140" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;The best Christmas smiles I have ever seen!!&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TSCueYXBJfI/AAAAAAAACDc/yn79VgwKSX4/s1600/mike%252C+elaina%252C+Nick.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TSCueYXBJfI/AAAAAAAACDc/yn79VgwKSX4/s320/mike%252C+elaina%252C+Nick.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;There are stocking hats galore for my grandchildren made by Fran's mom. This year she made 36 hats for her grandchildren and great grandchildren. She made 2 for Fran. I guess it is because he is her kid.&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TSCul1Gy_9I/AAAAAAAACDg/UFECPSoDNKI/s1600/andy+2010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TSCul1Gy_9I/AAAAAAAACDg/UFECPSoDNKI/s320/andy+2010.jpg" width="224" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TSCu4wLrj1I/AAAAAAAACDk/xPPd-KL05cQ/s1600/lobster+awaiting+for+someone+to+cook+him.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TSCu4wLrj1I/AAAAAAAACDk/xPPd-KL05cQ/s320/lobster+awaiting+for+someone+to+cook+him.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TSCt9JVJxoI/AAAAAAAACDQ/q2oA662Y238/s1600/caleb+and+his+new+hat+2010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TSCt9JVJxoI/AAAAAAAACDQ/q2oA662Y238/s320/caleb+and+his+new+hat+2010.jpg" width="224" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Loves to read&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;This poor lobster has no clue what awaits him in the kitchen!&amp;nbsp; The kids are amused by him. The waitresses were superb with the children, their opening gifts, and their curiosity. Thank you Red Lobster!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TSCxAZygrDI/AAAAAAAACDo/bcNqf60ZcTg/s1600/fran+and+me+when+we+got+home+from+columbia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="133" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TSCxAZygrDI/AAAAAAAACDo/bcNqf60ZcTg/s200/fran+and+me+when+we+got+home+from+columbia.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Excuse the wrong date on the picture. In fact it is December 26, 2010.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8578778803174227557-7556109557175013767?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/7556109557175013767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2011/01/kids-in-hats.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/7556109557175013767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/7556109557175013767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2011/01/kids-in-hats.html' title='The Kids In The Hats!'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TSCuDyoG4pI/AAAAAAAACDU/OdrgvbQaunQ/s72-c/sam+in+new+hat.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-2961026681219932415</id><published>2010-11-17T07:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-17T08:03:41.859-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Additions And Corrections</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;After I wrote the last post, I went down the hill to visit Marie. Well, I goofed up a bit with some of the facts. In actuality, there have been four generations of ladies named Marie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last post had a picture of Marie's mother. The picture showed her with short hair. She was forty years old. When she arrived home, Marie's father had a fit. He said that he could not afford to have her go to the beauty shop to keep it fixed. Since his fury affected the kids too, they said they would keep her hair fixed. He then relented. She did, however, grow it out a bit to shoulder length.&lt;br /&gt;Before she had it cut it was very long, so long she could almost sit on it. She wore it in braids and a bun on top of her head.&lt;br /&gt;The shop gave her twenty five dollars for her hair. She wanted something that her husband could not afford. Marie could not remember what it was. What she did say was that twenty five dollars was like a hundred dollars now.&lt;br /&gt;See, every time I go down the hill, all I have to say is "I need more stories Marie." She will be here for Thanksgiving all dressed up looking at the new stories. I will take her picture here by the computer looking like a million bucks.&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TOP8sVCFgFI/AAAAAAAACAo/8asotFa53To/s1600/my%2Bsignature.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 54px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 41px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540549805086179410" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TOP8sVCFgFI/AAAAAAAACAo/8asotFa53To/s320/my%2Bsignature.bmp" /&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/8578778803174227557-2961026681219932415?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/2961026681219932415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2010/11/additions-and-corrections.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/2961026681219932415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/2961026681219932415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2010/11/additions-and-corrections.html' title='Additions And Corrections'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TOP8sVCFgFI/AAAAAAAACAo/8asotFa53To/s72-c/my%2Bsignature.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-8256630435012766000</id><published>2010-11-17T06:05:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-17T06:22:43.538-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Marie's Mother</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TOPidHnxhuI/AAAAAAAACAY/SLU5E0RBDoU/s1600/marie%2527s%2Bmother.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 213px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540520956485797602" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TOPidHnxhuI/AAAAAAAACAY/SLU5E0RBDoU/s320/marie%2527s%2Bmother.jpg" /&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;p&gt;Beauty runs in Fran's family. This is a picture of &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Marie's mother, Marie. Marie is a name that has &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;been handed down for three generations that I &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;know of maybe more. When this lady's looks &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;handed down to the lady that married Fran's &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;father who had the black hair and brown eyes,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;the result will be carried on for generations.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TOPk4DAnYCI/AAAAAAAACAg/9r3brsfLuBw/s1600/my%2Bsignature.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 54px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 41px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540523618127536162" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TOPk4DAnYCI/AAAAAAAACAg/9r3brsfLuBw/s320/my%2Bsignature.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8578778803174227557-8256630435012766000?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/8256630435012766000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2010/11/maries-mother.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/8256630435012766000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/8256630435012766000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2010/11/maries-mother.html' title='Marie&apos;s Mother'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TOPidHnxhuI/AAAAAAAACAY/SLU5E0RBDoU/s72-c/marie%2527s%2Bmother.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-8813552332005275551</id><published>2010-11-16T08:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-16T08:43:10.739-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Long Time Ago</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TOK0azPiDWI/AAAAAAAACAQ/DU70rpD0CNk/s1600/marie%2527s%2B4%2Bkids.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540188864144084322" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TOK0azPiDWI/AAAAAAAACAQ/DU70rpD0CNk/s320/marie%2527s%2B4%2Bkids.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Holidays are fast approaching. I found this picture of Marie's children,I believe posing with their Christmas presents. The picture has a date on the bottom December, 1955.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Can anyone identify these kids and where the picture was taken?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8578778803174227557-8813552332005275551?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/8813552332005275551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2010/11/long-time-ago.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/8813552332005275551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/8813552332005275551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2010/11/long-time-ago.html' title='A Long Time Ago'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TOK0azPiDWI/AAAAAAAACAQ/DU70rpD0CNk/s72-c/marie%2527s%2B4%2Bkids.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-1898592411435357909</id><published>2010-11-13T06:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-13T06:20:36.455-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Why Is She Doing This?</title><content type='html'>We went to visit Fran’s mom the other day a couple of days after we had delivered a box of yarn for her. People know that she loves to crochet and knit so if they quit that hobby or have too much yarn they give it to Fran. Of course, I don’t do any of that so we give it to Marie. When we walked in with more the other day she said, "no more. I can't use what I have!" So we will not take her any more for a few months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We gave her a toilet paper box full of yarn last summer and she is still working on using that up. She even made me little rugs out of some of it. They look cute under Maggie’s food dish and underneath crocks I use for sunflowers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The expression she always uses when we walk in is, “what’s cooking?” Her eyes just sparkle like diamonds when she asks that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway she showed me what she was doing with yarn the other day. She was making a gazillion stocking hats all at the same time. The patterns were all different. Some were serviceable and some were very fancy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder why she is making so many stocking caps at the same time? Oh, she did say she had to get cooking. Could it be……..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;﻿﻿﻿ &lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TN6dY1RKG-I/AAAAAAAAB_w/K6OnqEnfOZg/s1600/my+signature.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" px="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TN6dY1RKG-I/AAAAAAAAB_w/K6OnqEnfOZg/s1600/my+signature.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TN6eAPSHJMI/AAAAAAAAB_0/y8IB6WE2FzI/s1600/100_0406.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="143" px="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TN6eAPSHJMI/AAAAAAAAB_0/y8IB6WE2FzI/s200/100_0406.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Marie at her birthday party. Her son Roger and her son Fran. Grandchildren, Joe, Tina and Rhonda&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿﻿﻿&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8578778803174227557-1898592411435357909?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/1898592411435357909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2010/11/why-is-she-doing-this.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/1898592411435357909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/1898592411435357909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2010/11/why-is-she-doing-this.html' title='Why Is She Doing This?'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TN6dY1RKG-I/AAAAAAAAB_w/K6OnqEnfOZg/s72-c/my+signature.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-6888799860017711452</id><published>2010-11-02T13:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-02T13:54:35.718-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Flying Fish</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TNB5o7bzx9I/AAAAAAAAB_Y/8bLhPZQY224/s1600/haddock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" nx="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TNB5o7bzx9I/AAAAAAAAB_Y/8bLhPZQY224/s1600/haddock.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before her children were born Marie and her husband, Ray went to New Bedford to visit. Marie told me it was such fun to go there. They had all day clam bakes under tents. All kinds of seafood was served, all you could eat for two dollars. The area they went to was called Achusnet Bay. I may have that spelled wrong, but the way Marie described it, it was all I could do to keep track of the story because she used so many descriptive words. I could almost hear the seagulls and see the fishing ships and the noise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marie and Ray were there to see his brother and his wife and they thought that they would like to cook some fish chowder. They went down to the pier and they started to ask the man on the boat for a fish. He said, “ What are you, beggars?” Marie, said, “No, we are visitors.” All of a sudden the man threw this big fish at them. It was at least a five pound haddock. They took it home and cleaned it. They made a wonderful chowder with potatoes, onions, and fish, clams, scallops. The clams and scallops were frozen and were alright because they were an hour and a half from home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was telling me that the lobster tails were so sweet that she wanted to eat them until she was sick, but of course she loved all the rest of the seafood too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second time they went to visit, Marie had children and the clam bakes were still going on and continues to be sharp in her memory. I asked Fran if he remembered going there and he did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have always lived in the Midwest and have never been privy to such wonderful food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TNB5eWS-9CI/AAAAAAAAB_U/SKiRyF8tO30/s1600/my+signature.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" nx="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TNB5eWS-9CI/AAAAAAAAB_U/SKiRyF8tO30/s1600/my+signature.bmp" /&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/8578778803174227557-6888799860017711452?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/6888799860017711452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2010/11/flying-fish.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/6888799860017711452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/6888799860017711452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2010/11/flying-fish.html' title='The Flying Fish'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TNB5o7bzx9I/AAAAAAAAB_Y/8bLhPZQY224/s72-c/haddock.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-183048913352747899</id><published>2010-09-27T18:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-27T18:33:31.461-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Really Fall!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKFDSsRogmI/AAAAAAAAB9Q/cdfRN-Dd6LM/s1600/220px-Eastern_Grey_Squirrel_in_St_James's_Park,_London_-_Nov_2006_edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" px="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKFDSsRogmI/AAAAAAAAB9Q/cdfRN-Dd6LM/s1600/220px-Eastern_Grey_Squirrel_in_St_James's_Park,_London_-_Nov_2006_edit.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKFB3idE9JI/AAAAAAAAB9E/yhXnAjcHJ1c/s1600/hummingbird......jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" px="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKFB3idE9JI/AAAAAAAAB9E/yhXnAjcHJ1c/s1600/hummingbird......jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;When we had Marie's birthday party this summer she got a variety of gifts. She even got a big bird feeder and a big bag of bird seed and a hummingbird feeder and some&amp;nbsp;yummy looking red&amp;nbsp;nectar for them. Every day when I go down to visit I sweep nuts off her sidewalk. This year is completely different than other years. The squirrels are finding the nuts that fall from her English walnut tree and cracking them right on her sidewalk and porch. It makes a terrible mess and difficult to walk on. When I don't sweep then Fran does, or Marie does.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;The other day Marie was complaining about the mess and then she started complaining about raccoons and cats, and squirrels. It was so funny to listen to her I couldn't help but laugh. She said that the raccoons knocked down the bird feeder, the squirrels started eating the bird seed and the hummingbird feeder had been knocked down by the cat.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Soon she will have o'possum and deer and raccoon and oh let's not forget.....mice. Oh, yes mice that love to get in the house to keep warm if Marie's cat, Callie, will allow it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKFCtJjvhCI/AAAAAAAAB9M/ngDo9mn4NiE/s1600/opossum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" px="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKFCtJjvhCI/AAAAAAAAB9M/ngDo9mn4NiE/s200/opossum.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKFCYXJGKJI/AAAAAAAAB9I/J3Z0sSRKop0/s1600/cardinal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" px="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKFCYXJGKJI/AAAAAAAAB9I/J3Z0sSRKop0/s1600/cardinal.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKFEFCZRebI/AAAAAAAAB9U/QNFBYbGJezk/s1600/my+signature.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" px="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKFEFCZRebI/AAAAAAAAB9U/QNFBYbGJezk/s1600/my+signature.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8578778803174227557-183048913352747899?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/183048913352747899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2010/09/its-really-fall.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/183048913352747899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/183048913352747899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2010/09/its-really-fall.html' title='It&apos;s Really Fall!!'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKFDSsRogmI/AAAAAAAAB9Q/cdfRN-Dd6LM/s72-c/220px-Eastern_Grey_Squirrel_in_St_James&apos;s_Park,_London_-_Nov_2006_edit.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-6693203291632595028</id><published>2010-08-31T16:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-31T16:33:52.218-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Marie Saves The Day!!</title><content type='html'>The other day Fran and I took his mom to the doctor for some blood tests. Like normal we were worried because the doctor called her for a re-test she said. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we got there, there was a wait, of course. While we were sitting there one of our neighbors came in for a blood test as well. I introduced the two ladies and they began to visit. Fran’s mom started talking about Fran when he was in gymnastics. I have written about that before in the blog called Maries Memories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This story was different. Yes, she had told me that she had been a chaperone at times when the kids traveled. That day at the doctor office we laughed and laughed at the tale that she told. I asked her if I could put this story on the internet. She said she didn’t care, go ahead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marie was an excellent seamstress and always planned ahead for the kids’ gym clothes. They were tight pants and a t-shirt type top. She was used to handling boys as well as girls. The kids stayed in cabins on this particular trip. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TH2Qn_dfU1I/AAAAAAAAB5M/XGx8PZykKME/s1600/squirt+gun.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ox="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TH2Qn_dfU1I/AAAAAAAAB5M/XGx8PZykKME/s320/squirt+gun.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;At one point she went to check on them and here they had gotten some squirt guns. I laughed and laughed I didn’t even know they had squirt guns fifty years ago! Well there was nothing to it than to confiscate their guns. They put up a terrible fuss and wanted their guns back. She told them if she let them carry on they would not get any trophies etc. One boy even had ripped his uniform. It was a very good thing that Marie had come armed with new uniforms and shoes that were like slippers for the gymnastic performers. She was so talented. Fran and I were just sitting here visiting about how lucky the kids were.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TH2OcQUHn-I/AAAAAAAAB5E/OlXSNApBK04/s1600/my+signature.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ox="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TH2OcQUHn-I/AAAAAAAAB5E/OlXSNApBK04/s320/my+signature.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TH2QzHyl7II/AAAAAAAAB5U/jo4DM77MZ5U/s1600/Male-Handstand-Gymnastics-Trophy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" ox="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TH2QzHyl7II/AAAAAAAAB5U/jo4DM77MZ5U/s200/Male-Handstand-Gymnastics-Trophy.jpg" width="157" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;However, the end of the story is…… she gave back the guns in the morning and Fran came home with a trophy!! That’s my man.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8578778803174227557-6693203291632595028?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/6693203291632595028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2010/08/marie-saves-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/6693203291632595028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/6693203291632595028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2010/08/marie-saves-day.html' title='Marie Saves The Day!!'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TH2Qn_dfU1I/AAAAAAAAB5M/XGx8PZykKME/s72-c/squirt+gun.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-6280180925075013651</id><published>2010-08-25T07:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-25T07:03:26.138-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What A Difference A Day Makes</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/THUibf3BVxI/AAAAAAAAB3U/EoxJh8FO4so/s1600/Marie+in+her+chair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ox="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/THUibf3BVxI/AAAAAAAAB3U/EoxJh8FO4so/s320/Marie+in+her+chair.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&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;Marie has had the same hearing aide for ten years. During those years her ability to hear has decreased. She and I just live less a block away from each other, but I cannot call her on the phone. I always needed to walk to her house to talk to her. I also want to add, I had to either yell at her or talk very loudly. Sometimes I had to write her notes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day she was here for a family dinner and could not hear at all because she had forgotten to put batteries in her hearing aide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did a little digging around and found that there was actually a man that would come to our little town twice a month. I found that he would go to the senior center and test hearing aides. I think we all were hoping that hers could be repaired. We took her to see this young man. He was very nice. He did a lot of testing and kind of shook his head. Marie realized at that moment that her hearing aide was shot. Medicare does not pay for hearing aides, so this was something that needed to be paid for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She settled on a digital hearing aide. This type should allow her to talk on the telephone. She was not able to talk to her family before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She has been waiting for almost a month for it to arrive. Yesterday was the day. I was not convinced it was worth the money. She kept saying “what?” Then I thought it could have been habit, but I still wasn’t convinced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we got her home I told her to sit by the table because I was going to call her. I did that and she said, “ You’re talking too loud, I have to hold it a foot away from my ear!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We both laughed, in fact I almost cried I was so happy. Now everyone can call her all the time. Just remember, let it ring several times because it takes her awhile to get to the phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/THUiJjZ4N1I/AAAAAAAAB3M/Y465Ffk6nwM/s1600/my+signature.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ox="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/THUiJjZ4N1I/AAAAAAAAB3M/Y465Ffk6nwM/s320/my+signature.bmp" /&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/8578778803174227557-6280180925075013651?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/6280180925075013651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2010/08/what-difference-day-makes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/6280180925075013651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/6280180925075013651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2010/08/what-difference-day-makes.html' title='What A Difference A Day Makes'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/THUibf3BVxI/AAAAAAAAB3U/EoxJh8FO4so/s72-c/Marie+in+her+chair.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-8932265359254340639</id><published>2010-07-05T12:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-06T12:33:33.137-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Then There Was THE Party!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TDIv8jVHbHI/AAAAAAAABug/Dzzr0AXdddc/s1600/100_0425.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TDIv8jVHbHI/AAAAAAAABug/Dzzr0AXdddc/s320/100_0425.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TDIy4s6WeRI/AAAAAAAABu4/WwAyyu6Qv6I/s1600/100_0427.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" rw="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TDIy4s6WeRI/AAAAAAAABu4/WwAyyu6Qv6I/s320/100_0427.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The first birthday party Marie can remember is her seventeenth birthday. She had aunts and uncles and cousins attend. Her birthday presents were yards of material so she could make herself some dresses. Marie was an excellent seamstress, so everyone knew that the yard goods would be very much appreciated. However, not too exciting.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year the company and the gifts were very different. Some of her grandchildren and friends and son&amp;nbsp;from Texas came to visit for a couple of days. This kind of thing happens when you turn 95.&amp;nbsp;There was a big supper at her son’s of brisket, salads, and fruit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day a birthday party complete with decorated cake and ice cream was served. The whole group sang happy birthday to Marie and the flashbulbs lit up the room. She has a fun sense of humor and said, “Cheese” every once in awhile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She had beautiful gift bags full of gifts including linens, pots and pans, bird feeders and personal items. I think one of &amp;nbsp;her favorite gifts was from her grandchildren. That was frames of pictures of them wearing hats that Marie had made from plastic bags, pictures of them surrounding her, and pictures of her and two of her children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marie loves to reminisce and tell stories from the past. The stories she tells are inspiring to everyone who listens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually her stories are history lessons from the early nineteen hundreds to World War Two to the present day. Marie holds audience with young and old with her stories; most are fascinated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Marie is tickled, she has a fun little giggle that is very infectious. Most everyone laughs with her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope you enjoy the pictures of Marie and her family and friends on a very special day for her.&lt;br /&gt;If you would like to take a look at more pictures and posting click on Lu's Place just across the street. We enjoy having you visit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8578778803174227557-8932265359254340639?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/8932265359254340639/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2010/07/then-there-was-party.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/8932265359254340639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/8932265359254340639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2010/07/then-there-was-party.html' title='Then There Was THE Party!!!'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TDIv8jVHbHI/AAAAAAAABug/Dzzr0AXdddc/s72-c/100_0425.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-4317005690117477069</id><published>2010-01-29T08:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-29T08:18:46.266-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Green Stripes On Uniforms</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/S2MJvxi99BI/AAAAAAAABPE/270lbOsejXI/s1600-h/baseba%3B%3B+player.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" kt="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/S2MJvxi99BI/AAAAAAAABPE/270lbOsejXI/s320/baseba%3B%3B+player.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;One day Marie was at our house visiting. Fran was in the living room watching television, and Marie and I were out in the kitchen visiting. She was telling stories and I was laughing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;I asked her for a new story, well you could just see her eyes sparkle. She has the most fantastic memory so she pretty much knows what she has told me. Then she smiled. She told me that Fran played baseball when he was about thirteen years old. One day the city painted the bleachers green. They did not tell the people that came to watch the game that the bleachers were still wet.&amp;nbsp; Well....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;the moral to this story is don't sit on really shiny bleachers without testing them with your finger. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Marie said that her telephone rang off the hook with people trying to get green paint stripes off their clothes and the boy's white uniforms.&amp;nbsp; I guess they thought if anyone could help them get the paint out, she could.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/S2MJjEGPjAI/AAAAAAAABO8/FOUIR-zgzmw/s1600-h/my+signature.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" kt="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/S2MJjEGPjAI/AAAAAAAABO8/FOUIR-zgzmw/s320/my+signature.bmp" /&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/8578778803174227557-4317005690117477069?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/4317005690117477069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2010/01/green-stripes-on-uniforms.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/4317005690117477069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/4317005690117477069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2010/01/green-stripes-on-uniforms.html' title='Green Stripes On Uniforms'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/S2MJvxi99BI/AAAAAAAABPE/270lbOsejXI/s72-c/baseba%3B%3B+player.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-1910504259772447580</id><published>2009-12-29T18:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-29T18:50:07.873-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Value Of The Gift</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/Szq_iOktSyI/AAAAAAAABGA/d6NKpT2FfO4/s1600-h/puzzle+book.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ps="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/Szq_iOktSyI/AAAAAAAABGA/d6NKpT2FfO4/s400/puzzle+book.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We exchanged gifts with Marie and Rolland on Christmas Eve afternoon when we finished with lunch. I didn’t even do dishes, surprise, surprise!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;True to form, Marie made me a beautiful afghan. It was lovely with pink raised roses on a bed of white and blue. It will be a heirloom for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bought, the optimum word is bought, her a beautiful turquoise velour outfit that goes beautifully with her white hair. Fran got her some jewelry. While she was unwrapping and inspecting her gifts she was very quiet. I was watching from across the room and went to her. I told her that one of her friends just loved the soft velour outfits and had three of them. She told me she had a closet full of clothes. (sigh)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her last gift was thick and misshapen.. She felt of it and ripped the paper away, and said, “Now THAT I like!!!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That gift cost a whole three dollars and in return I got a million dollar smile. One just never knows.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8578778803174227557-1910504259772447580?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/1910504259772447580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/12/value-of-gift.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/1910504259772447580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/1910504259772447580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/12/value-of-gift.html' title='The Value Of The Gift'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/Szq_iOktSyI/AAAAAAAABGA/d6NKpT2FfO4/s72-c/puzzle+book.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-4585451111800191880</id><published>2009-12-29T11:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-29T11:54:41.861-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Maries Stories Are Fun</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SzpdVKKWzKI/AAAAAAAABFo/CWBJE4mULaQ/s1600-h/Marie+in+her+chair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ps="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SzpdVKKWzKI/AAAAAAAABFo/CWBJE4mULaQ/s320/Marie+in+her+chair.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Marie was at our house for Christmas Eve lunch this year. We changed our Christmas lunch for several different reasons, but she was fine with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While we were eating I asked her to tell us stories of Christmas while she was a child. Oh, anyone that knows Marie, she was more than willing to tell stories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One story was of Marie as a very small child going hunting with her father for the Christmas turkey. It was very cold, of course, because they lived in Massachusetts . The got two very big turkeys for dinner. They had a very large family therefore, it took two big birds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked Marie if they had homemade gifts at Christmas time and she said that they did if they even had money for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As she got older and had children she had the children, boys also, knit caps and mittens for children that had none. She told the numbers and it was astronomical, but I forgot to write it down. She and the children worked and worked to have as many caps and mittens as they could to have gifts for the children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She told many stories that day, but she veered off the Christmas stories. There will be more stories, more days&lt;br /&gt;By the way she made this lovely Christmas Afghan herself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8578778803174227557-4585451111800191880?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/4585451111800191880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/12/maries-stories-are-fun.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/4585451111800191880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/4585451111800191880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/12/maries-stories-are-fun.html' title='Maries Stories Are Fun'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SzpdVKKWzKI/AAAAAAAABFo/CWBJE4mULaQ/s72-c/Marie+in+her+chair.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-469532119029720130</id><published>2009-12-21T17:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-21T17:48:47.705-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Aubin Family</title><content type='html'>&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SzAkWicMKXI/AAAAAAAABCg/anodCqudA2w/s1600-h/IMG+The+aubin+family+1931.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SzAkWicMKXI/AAAAAAAABCg/anodCqudA2w/s320/IMG+The+aubin+family+1931.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I went to Marie’s house to visit. She was so excited she had gotten a picture of her whole family in the mail. The youngest child was Lucy; she was three months old. The youngest brother, Charlie was the blonde little boy sitting on the ground. Marie said this picture was taken in 1931. She was so excited I got tickled at her. She said, “Make sure you put this on the internet.”&amp;nbsp; And of course, I told her that I would.&lt;br /&gt;I am going to name the children from left to right: Hector, Tony Bob, Lucy, Marie, Teresa, George, Jean, Joe, Paulline, and like I said, Charlie sitting on the ground.&lt;br /&gt;I think they were a good looking crew, weren’t they?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SzAlN4hJMUI/AAAAAAAABCw/jS_-MhfVWhk/s1600-h/my+signature.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SzAlN4hJMUI/AAAAAAAABCw/jS_-MhfVWhk/s320/my+signature.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8578778803174227557-469532119029720130?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/469532119029720130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/12/aubin-family.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/469532119029720130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/469532119029720130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/12/aubin-family.html' title='The Aubin Family'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SzAkWicMKXI/AAAAAAAABCg/anodCqudA2w/s72-c/IMG+The+aubin+family+1931.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-211974811210483447</id><published>2009-11-20T08:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-20T09:28:24.241-08:00</updated><title type='text'>She Forgot My Birthday</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SwbJez4ImGI/AAAAAAAAA5s/w8zVQepnfKI/s1600/quilt+for+Lizann.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406229933863770210" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 180px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SwbJez4ImGI/AAAAAAAAA5s/w8zVQepnfKI/s320/quilt+for+Lizann.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was thinking this morning that it has been awhile since I posted something about Marie, Fran's mother. I have said she is amazing, I have said that her memory is also amazing. She is ninety-four. She knows her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;grandchildren's&lt;/span&gt; names and birthdays. She is also a great grandmother. She is going to be expecting another great grandchild I think in January. See, I say 'I think" I know if I ran down to her house she would tell me exactly when Liz was due. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, Marie crocheted an afghan and two &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;hoodies&lt;/span&gt; for the new baby. Here is a picture of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Lizann&lt;/span&gt; opening up the afghan. I believe she has a rosary in her hand.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I do have something a little amusing to tell you. She was so upset a few weeks ago. She told Fran that she had forgotten my birthday. Can you imagine?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8578778803174227557-211974811210483447?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/211974811210483447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-was-thinking-this-morning-that-it-has.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/211974811210483447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/211974811210483447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-was-thinking-this-morning-that-it-has.html' title='She Forgot My Birthday'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SwbJez4ImGI/AAAAAAAAA5s/w8zVQepnfKI/s72-c/quilt+for+Lizann.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-8393586655753445288</id><published>2009-10-21T13:59:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-21T14:11:57.079-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fran Loves His Mom</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/St934_vpUpI/AAAAAAAAAyc/rnlqPXNKlmI/s1600-h/IMG_0588.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/St934_vpUpI/AAAAAAAAAyc/rnlqPXNKlmI/s320/IMG_0588.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395162699680797330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/St92kKpDkRI/AAAAAAAAAyU/pieFlST6ijY/s1600-h/fran%27s+dad+and+mom.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/St92kKpDkRI/AAAAAAAAAyU/pieFlST6ijY/s320/fran%27s+dad+and+mom.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395161242317066514" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;           &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The very first time I met Fran, he talked about his mom a lot. After I met her, I could understand why. She is ninety-four years old, takes care of her house the best she can, cooks for her son that lives with her and herself, and does the laundry. Her first love is her flowers and gardening in the spring and summer. This fall she was out there digging up the bulbs to plant for next spring.&lt;br /&gt;She does a lot of knitting and crocheting and loves to tell stories of her past.&lt;br /&gt;Marie was musically inclined when she was young and still can sing. Her eyesight prevents her from playing the piano and organ otherwise she would be doing that too.&lt;br /&gt;The day before her ninety fourth birthday (our wedding) she danced with Fran. The band played a waltz for them to dance too and played her the Happy Birthday Song. She loved it. You can see a picture of Marie and Fran's dad dancing on the June Post of this year. It looked like they were having fun.&lt;br /&gt;I found a picture taken long ago of Marie and Raymond (Fran’s father) and I see the resemblance of Fran and his dad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8578778803174227557-8393586655753445288?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/8393586655753445288/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/10/fran-loves-his-mom.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/8393586655753445288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/8393586655753445288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/10/fran-loves-his-mom.html' title='Fran Loves His Mom'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/St934_vpUpI/AAAAAAAAAyc/rnlqPXNKlmI/s72-c/IMG_0588.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-7674715732387199669</id><published>2009-07-23T06:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T06:37:10.282-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Marie Has Wheels</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/Smhm4XtozBI/AAAAAAAAApU/2iAmeCqtiGc/s1600-h/getting+instruction.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/Smhm4XtozBI/AAAAAAAAApU/2iAmeCqtiGc/s320/getting+instruction.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361648475008715794" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;               For the first time in her life Marie is driving a vehicle. She has wanted an electric wheelchair for years and something always prevented her from getting one. Finally Fran and I took the bull by the horns and got her an appointment to be evaluated and bingo! she got a custom made wheelchair built just for her. She even got to choose the color. It is bright blue. She drives it with a joy stick.&lt;br /&gt;Marie may have to buy new furniture, because she does do a little bumping into things, but when she does she laughs. Marie is so happy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8578778803174227557-7674715732387199669?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/7674715732387199669/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/07/marie-has-wheels.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/7674715732387199669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/7674715732387199669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/07/marie-has-wheels.html' title='Marie Has Wheels'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/Smhm4XtozBI/AAAAAAAAApU/2iAmeCqtiGc/s72-c/getting+instruction.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-1052610071675728312</id><published>2009-07-06T05:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-06T05:16:29.679-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Marie's 94th Birthday</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SlHrEcdsGxI/AAAAAAAAAmk/5JRJWOWKfeQ/s1600-h/chop+sticks.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 137px; height: 170px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SlHrEcdsGxI/AAAAAAAAAmk/5JRJWOWKfeQ/s320/chop+sticks.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355319893512952594" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had another fun day yesterday. Marie's son from Texas was here from Texas. We picked up Marie and took her to a Chinese Buffet &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Restaraunt&lt;/span&gt;.  She said that she had never been to one before She thought that a buffet was a good idea for fast service. She enjoyed people watching especially people that were eating with chop sticks. She said if she tried that she would have food all over the place.&lt;br /&gt;When we got back to Stockton we took her to a green house and picked out plants for outside on her deck and a house plant called a fuzzy jew. I had never seen one; it really was fuzzy.&lt;br /&gt;Of course, before we could leave she gave us a loaf of zucchini bread and a loaf of homemade white bread. She may be ninety four, but she still knows her way around the kitchen!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8578778803174227557-1052610071675728312?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/1052610071675728312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/07/maries-94th-birthday.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/1052610071675728312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/1052610071675728312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/07/maries-94th-birthday.html' title='Marie&apos;s 94th Birthday'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SlHrEcdsGxI/AAAAAAAAAmk/5JRJWOWKfeQ/s72-c/chop+sticks.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-741092167582350246</id><published>2009-06-22T11:15:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-22T11:18:44.757-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fun Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/Sj_K_Ja5AmI/AAAAAAAAAjs/AEF3kWzNA2k/s1600-h/Nancy+and+Lu.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350218068548715106" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/Sj_K_Ja5AmI/AAAAAAAAAjs/AEF3kWzNA2k/s320/Nancy+and+Lu.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/Sj_KmRinNZI/AAAAAAAAAjk/OweT36dgtLk/s1600-h/Charles+and+Marie.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350217641231857042" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/Sj_KmRinNZI/AAAAAAAAAjk/OweT36dgtLk/s320/Charles+and+Marie.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday we all had a really good time. Fran’s Uncle Charles and his wife came to visit from Dallas, Texas. Charles is my mother-in-law’s youngest brother. We had a lot of laughs with teasing each other His aunt and uncle talked about old times. And of course, his mother told stories and every one laughed and added some of their own.&lt;br /&gt;Fran’s aunt and I hit it off right away and teased each other like we had known each other for years. It was so much fun.&lt;br /&gt;Marie sang a song in French that she had learned when she was about two years old. It is called Soldier Come Home. It was beautiful. I had been recording everyone singing karaoke and had left the recorder on by mistake, Thank Goodness!! Now I have Marie singing for posterity. Here are some pictures&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/8578778803174227557-741092167582350246?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/741092167582350246/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/06/fun-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/741092167582350246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/741092167582350246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/06/fun-day.html' title='Fun Day'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/Sj_K_Ja5AmI/AAAAAAAAAjs/AEF3kWzNA2k/s72-c/Nancy+and+Lu.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-5060677561757338337</id><published>2009-06-15T07:14:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-15T07:22:02.372-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Family History Pictures</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SjZY_VDp3HI/AAAAAAAAAi8/heJtffN1C-I/s1600-h/marie+in+cowboy+hat.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347559452556516466" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SjZY_VDp3HI/AAAAAAAAAi8/heJtffN1C-I/s320/marie+in+cowboy+hat.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SjZXslQDDlI/AAAAAAAAAi0/Ry2ZBqav6Wo/s1600-h/four+kids.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347558030974324306" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SjZXslQDDlI/AAAAAAAAAi0/Ry2ZBqav6Wo/s320/four+kids.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SjZXjqlfzCI/AAAAAAAAAis/kxYbjBE4JeM/s1600-h/marie+and+ray+dancin+g+at+rollands+wedding.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347557877787642914" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 256px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SjZXjqlfzCI/AAAAAAAAAis/kxYbjBE4JeM/s320/marie+and+ray+dancin+g+at+rollands+wedding.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a lot of pictures with few to little stories to go with them. Today I will post the pictures and you readers post your comments on the comment section to see if you remember these pictures. I will then tell Marie and she will be so pleased.&lt;br /&gt;Fran and I invited her here for Mother’s day lunch. After lunch she sat in front of the computer and read the stories and looked at the pictures and started to reminisce even more than she had originally. I just wanted to let you know how much she is enjoying this part of her life.&lt;br /&gt;I am started with some easy ones.&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/8578778803174227557-5060677561757338337?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/5060677561757338337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/06/family-history-pictures.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/5060677561757338337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/5060677561757338337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/06/family-history-pictures.html' title='Family History Pictures'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SjZY_VDp3HI/AAAAAAAAAi8/heJtffN1C-I/s72-c/marie+in+cowboy+hat.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-5631518874845806038</id><published>2009-06-10T15:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-10T15:33:32.556-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dolls From Yesteryear</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SjA0s0ySnKI/AAAAAAAAAhs/gx2Oy7Pizac/s1600-h/sunbeam+in+a+wedding+dress.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345830702377245858" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 229px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SjA0s0ySnKI/AAAAAAAAAhs/gx2Oy7Pizac/s320/sunbeam+in+a+wedding+dress.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SjA0i1TmJZI/AAAAAAAAAhk/ysDBKeEb3UA/s1600-h/xmas+dolls.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345830530718246290" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SjA0i1TmJZI/AAAAAAAAAhk/ysDBKeEb3UA/s320/xmas+dolls.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SjA0SA1NntI/AAAAAAAAAhc/xvR0kODGcYg/s1600-h/sunbeam+doll.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345830241754259154" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SjA0SA1NntI/AAAAAAAAAhc/xvR0kODGcYg/s320/sunbeam+doll.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SjAz9VT7ZKI/AAAAAAAAAhU/-Muo46x8abI/s1600-h/pincushion.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345829886474544290" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SjAz9VT7ZKI/AAAAAAAAAhU/-Muo46x8abI/s320/pincushion.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother-in-law is so talented. She can make something out of nothing. For instance, her son found this little western hat while walking down the street. He gave it to his mom and viola the cutest pin cushion I have ever seen.&lt;br /&gt;In the early seventies Sunbeam Bread had a very cute little girl on the wrapper. She had blonde hair and a cute blue and white dress. You guessed it. Marie sewed the outfits and dressed the dolls. I looked them up on e-bay they classify them as rare. One sold the other day for over a hundred dollars. Marie has one that she makes new outfits for. One is a wedding dress and the other is a blue and white crocheted dress and hat. I am so not talented I cannot see the difference between crocheting and knitting.&lt;br /&gt;I wanted you to see just some of the dolls that she has made.&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/8578778803174227557-5631518874845806038?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/5631518874845806038/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/06/dolls-from-yesteryear.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/5631518874845806038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/5631518874845806038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/06/dolls-from-yesteryear.html' title='Dolls From Yesteryear'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SjA0s0ySnKI/AAAAAAAAAhs/gx2Oy7Pizac/s72-c/sunbeam+in+a+wedding+dress.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-6255065322496736875</id><published>2009-06-05T09:15:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-06T09:00:44.875-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Green Is In And Has Been For Years</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SilFYaAeM6I/AAAAAAAAAf0/gkmQWhdiPBM/s1600-h/Marie+and+sack+hat.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343878718452282274" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SilFYaAeM6I/AAAAAAAAAf0/gkmQWhdiPBM/s320/Marie+and+sack+hat.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SilFJiPQ5tI/AAAAAAAAAfs/eTUzna0V6Tk/s1600-h/Melanie+ans+sack+hat.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343878462963771090" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SilFJiPQ5tI/AAAAAAAAAfs/eTUzna0V6Tk/s320/Melanie+ans+sack+hat.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got such a laugh the other morning when I was watching the news. There is a new craft going on. I about choked on my coffee. My mother-in-law has been doing it for years. Giving them away and teaching other people how to do it.&lt;br /&gt;That craft also helps the environment by using and reusing plastic bags. She makes hats out of the bags she gets at the grocery store and Walmart. That is the first gift she gave me. She also gave me one for my daughter. Marie wears her hat with the little red flower on it every time she leaves for town. She has her little plastic hat on the picture of her and Fran dancing at our wedding. The girl in our kitchen is my daughter, Melanie.&lt;br /&gt;Marie gave me a plastic hat for one of my friends. She wears hers on her boat to keep her hair dry. Good idea! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just got back from Marie's house. I told her that I had put a story on the internet about her plastic hats. She pointed to a hat that was laying on her couch. She said, "That's my celebration hat." I asked her why she called it that and this is how the story was told: One day in 1959 she walked into a grocery store called Victory Market. She had her plastic bag hat on that happened to be red, white, and blue. Every one almost jumped at her exclaiming over her hat. Several people took pictures of her, wanted directions and patterns and put her picture in the store's newsletter. So you see the days of the plastic bag hat are not new, but over fifty years old. I haven't tried it, but I bet they wash like a dream!  Oh just another note, Marie told me that she has even made them for Barbie dolls, how about that!&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/8578778803174227557-6255065322496736875?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/6255065322496736875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/06/green-is-in-and-has-been-for-years.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/6255065322496736875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/6255065322496736875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/06/green-is-in-and-has-been-for-years.html' title='Green Is In And Has Been For Years'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SilFYaAeM6I/AAAAAAAAAf0/gkmQWhdiPBM/s72-c/Marie+and+sack+hat.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-678066122974046842</id><published>2009-05-14T14:42:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-14T14:55:13.917-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Marie's Flowers</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SgyTNV_pyDI/AAAAAAAAAZo/IbRaCR1BTvM/s1600-h/butterfly+flowers.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335801515978901554" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 133px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SgyTNV_pyDI/AAAAAAAAAZo/IbRaCR1BTvM/s200/butterfly+flowers.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SgyRguaw7-I/AAAAAAAAAZg/SjUBKJuU2n4/s1600-h/azaleas.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335799649929326562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 133px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SgyRguaw7-I/AAAAAAAAAZg/SjUBKJuU2n4/s200/azaleas.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SgyRTsV0vTI/AAAAAAAAAZY/WAqHGdm2gh0/s1600-h/white+iris.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335799426033433906" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 133px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SgyRTsV0vTI/AAAAAAAAAZY/WAqHGdm2gh0/s200/white+iris.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SgyRDjfZ45I/AAAAAAAAAZQ/zJwtKhER-rQ/s1600-h/flowers+%232.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335799148779791250" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 133px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SgyRDjfZ45I/AAAAAAAAAZQ/zJwtKhER-rQ/s200/flowers+%232.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SgyQ2UDTjNI/AAAAAAAAAZI/CUBpmIS7C2w/s1600-h/flowers+%231.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335798921297104082" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 133px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SgyQ2UDTjNI/AAAAAAAAAZI/CUBpmIS7C2w/s200/flowers+%231.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marie told me that tending the garden and the flower garden was one of the things that she really enjoyed all of her life. She still has a garden at her house now, but needs some help with it. However, she does not need help with planning what she is going to plant and where she is going to plant it. She orders a lot of her bulbs and plants through the mail in different nurseries and the other day she even got some from Publisher’s Clearing House. She said you just never know!&lt;br /&gt;This year she had given Fran and I a list of plants to get at the greenhouse for her. She wanted cucumber plants, zucchini plants, cabbage plants and some tomato plants. It had been raining so much we had to “mud” them in, but they are doing really well. She stood on the deck and supervised where we planted them and how close together etc. Actually she was a big help because everybody does it differently.&lt;br /&gt;Roland wanted to get his mom some flowers that come up every year so Fran and I went in with him and got Marie three azalea plants. When I had her go out on the deck she sucked in her breath and went “Oh, my, they are beautiful.”&lt;br /&gt;I thought you might like to see some of her beautiful plants that she has started and then you can enjoy them with her. There are two pictures of flowers that she had years and years ago when she lived in Massachusetts. Those flowers are just a splash of vivid color. She had me take pictures of those so I could put them on the “internet.” Enjoy.&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/8578778803174227557-678066122974046842?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/678066122974046842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/05/maries-flowers.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/678066122974046842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/678066122974046842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/05/maries-flowers.html' title='Marie&apos;s Flowers'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SgyTNV_pyDI/AAAAAAAAAZo/IbRaCR1BTvM/s72-c/butterfly+flowers.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-1686021315137277513</id><published>2009-05-13T10:30:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-13T10:31:58.821-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Margaret Lamont's Doll Shop</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SgsD-sNQ0_I/AAAAAAAAAYw/JwU-l_rkgeE/s1600-h/Mortimer+Snerd.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335362559104046066" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 280px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 280px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SgsD-sNQ0_I/AAAAAAAAAYw/JwU-l_rkgeE/s320/Mortimer+Snerd.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SgsD5Fgy2wI/AAAAAAAAAYo/ypwZ7yAyfUg/s1600-h/bozo2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335362462817639170" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SgsD5Fgy2wI/AAAAAAAAAYo/ypwZ7yAyfUg/s320/bozo2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have had a request to hear more about the doll shop, so this morning I went to visit Marie to see if she could tell me more.&lt;br /&gt;There were about twenty girls that worked there. At the time Marie was working there, there was only one shift running. The doll shop’s owners contracted with the Sayco Company in New York. Sayco sent the doll shop all the cut outs and then the girls sewed them together.&lt;br /&gt;Marie said besides the Mary Poppins outfits, they made clothes for Alice Blue Gown doll, Bozo the Clown,&lt;br /&gt;Mortimer, Cinderella even christening gowns for babies.&lt;br /&gt;The lady that owned the shop would always look for jobs if the business was slow. One time she got a job for making a lot of teddy bears. The company paid for it with a bounced check. So Margaret’s shop lost a lot of money on that job.&lt;br /&gt;When Marie started sewing for a wage, she sewed at a trouser shop. She stayed there for eleven years. Then she went to a shirt shop that was poorly run for only three months. From the shirt shop she went to Margaret’s Doll Shop for thirty two years. She retired then but found she needed more money than her social security paid her, so she worked for a garment factory called R&amp;amp;M for three years. They made bathrobes, underwear, smocks and a variety of things. She received some back pay from social security that was a surprise, so she then could retire with more comfort.&lt;br /&gt;Can you remember how many months or years you worked for each job that you had.? I think Marie’s memory is amazing. She was telling me today that one day she came into the doll shop and a new chief operator had put all the sewing machines facing the wall. She pretty much flipped out. She said she asked him if he knew anything about sewing. He said no, but he knew about organization. Marie quit her job. The lady that owned the business had died, she didn’t like the son and just decided to go home and be happier, albeit a little broker.&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/8578778803174227557-1686021315137277513?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/1686021315137277513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/05/margaret-lamonts-doll-shop.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/1686021315137277513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/1686021315137277513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/05/margaret-lamonts-doll-shop.html' title='Margaret Lamont&apos;s Doll Shop'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SgsD-sNQ0_I/AAAAAAAAAYw/JwU-l_rkgeE/s72-c/Mortimer+Snerd.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-5000647181882369555</id><published>2009-05-09T05:13:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-09T05:18:53.512-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The House On 9 Southshore Road</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SgV0Hna5_JI/AAAAAAAAAX4/5P8oc3g2E3s/s1600-h/car+in+snow.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333797007879961746" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SgV0Hna5_JI/AAAAAAAAAX4/5P8oc3g2E3s/s320/car+in+snow.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SgVz_T9AsoI/AAAAAAAAAXw/UOsQjV1JUoQ/s1600-h/fun+in+the+snow.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333796865215345282" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SgVz_T9AsoI/AAAAAAAAAXw/UOsQjV1JUoQ/s320/fun+in+the+snow.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SgVz2gB9L_I/AAAAAAAAAXo/OfYFGyeqQoI/s1600-h/tree,+house,+electric+wire.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333796713838489586" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SgVz2gB9L_I/AAAAAAAAAXo/OfYFGyeqQoI/s320/tree,+house,+electric+wire.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marie’s boys want me to tell stories about the house on 9 Southshore Road. It is kind of an interesting house, because of it’s history and some of the antics that the boys did at that house.&lt;br /&gt;The house cost $3500.00. It was a small house, but had four bedrooms. Marie and her husband were both working at the time of the purchase. When they bought it in those days there were no “discovery” papers, but were assured that everything was fine that went with the house.&lt;br /&gt;In February, Marie couldn’t get the furnace to light. She finally got it lit, but it went out. Anyone that has lived in Massachusetts knows that it is cold there in February. Marie called the furnace repair people and they discovered a hole in the heating chamber the size of a grapefruit. She said she was very lucky not to have blown the house and herself up. A new furnace would cost two thousand dollars, almost as much as they paid for the house.&lt;br /&gt;She went to the bank which had an affiliation with her church and they put the cost of a new furnace in with her mortgage and it only raised her house payments six dollars. That made her payments forty five dollars a month. Wouldn’t we all like house payments of forty five dollars a month, however, those payments were in times where the paychecks were a tenth of what they are now also.&lt;br /&gt;To get the loan for the furnace, the papers had to go through a board of directors similar to now a days, and that took two weeks. Two weeks of being cold and having children. I think she said she was getting sewing done for her daughter’s wedding at that time also. This sounds like where the phrase come from, “when it rains it storms.” I might have just made that up!&lt;br /&gt;All the boys tell me about the terrible snow storms they had when they lived there. The stories vary from brother to brother, but in the end they were all full of mischief.&lt;br /&gt;I am going to tell this story my own way and it will have a little truth from all three of the boys. They had had several snow storms of over two to three feet at a time. They had over six feet in one snow storm one time. Any way, snow makes some people upset because they can’t get out of the house to get to work, and other people think, what the heck, let’s have some fun. I have been told a story like I say with different versions of the boys, tying two ladders together so that they were long enough to get to the top of the roof. The reason for doing this was serious, his mother was concerned that the roof would cave in from the weight of the snow. Well, work was done, what would you do, if you were teenagers with a lot of snow to have fun in and your work was done. Jump! Yes, first one then another, then the one that didn’t spread his arms out and had to be dug out in order to get out of the snow bank. That story has been told and told and told, and always with a hearty laugh.&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/8578778803174227557-5000647181882369555?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/5000647181882369555/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/05/house-on-9-southshore-road.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/5000647181882369555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/5000647181882369555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/05/house-on-9-southshore-road.html' title='The House On 9 Southshore Road'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SgV0Hna5_JI/AAAAAAAAAX4/5P8oc3g2E3s/s72-c/car+in+snow.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-5422549390033860472</id><published>2009-05-06T09:21:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-06T09:31:05.587-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rationing During World War Two</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SgG7GtOM6UI/AAAAAAAAAXA/68w6vSFso58/s1600-h/ration+book+%26+stamps.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332749157676149058" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SgG7GtOM6UI/AAAAAAAAAXA/68w6vSFso58/s320/ration+book+%26+stamps.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SgG66jrnyvI/AAAAAAAAAW4/oVMElG5nvqM/s1600-h/book+and+war+books.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332748948956760818" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SgG66jrnyvI/AAAAAAAAAW4/oVMElG5nvqM/s320/book+and+war+books.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother told me some about rationing. It didn’t seem to bother her to the extent that it did Marie. Mom and Dad lived on the farm. Mom churned her own butter, had their own milk, meat, and vegetables. Mother talked about the stamps they were issued for coffee, sugar, flour, and gasoline more than she did anything else.&lt;br /&gt;Marie, however told me things about the rationing that made me wonder how I would do in the same situation.&lt;br /&gt;Marie said that you had to place an order with the meat market for the meat that you wanted. You also had to pick it up when you said you were going to or they sold it to someone else. There was no ration on horse meat so she got horse meat sometimes. She had to cook it longer, but it tasted ok. The market told her to always save the fat from the meat. She said that sometimes she went through the Black Market to get things she absolutely had to have. Marie did a lot of baking cakes for weddings and birthdays. She would trade her stamps for things that she didn’t use that much of for stamps for sugar. She was allowed five pounds of sugar per person a month. She could have four pounds of butter a month for the family. She could have one pound of hamburger per person, and also pork. Marie said that they allowed her one pound of coffee per person a month. She told me that sometimes she would wait for hours for a pound of butter, only to be told that they had run out. I asked her why she thought the government had rationed the butter. She said she didn’t know for sure, but wondered if the majority of it was being sent to the soldiers. She said that margarine was not rationed. She told me it was white and had a little coloring pill in it that a person broke and kneaded the color throughout the margarine to make it look yellow. I was all excited because I remembered that. Marie just shook her head at me and looked at me like “Why on earth would this woman get excited about margarine?” Well I will tell you why, because when we were little we would go to my aunt and uncle’s house that lived in a city and that was our job to “color” the margarine. I just thought it was fun!&lt;br /&gt;The government issued ration books that had stamps inside for different things. Each person in the family received their own book of stamps. To me it is amazing how people were forced to live in our “free” America. Marie also told me that there were sirens that warned people that an attack was eminent; a black out then ensued. Marie said that every one used black or green shades to keep the inside light from showing. There was a knock on the door one night from a person telling her that her light was showing outside. After that she put a candle inside a tin can so that it would not be seen outside.&lt;br /&gt;Marie said that even heating oil was rationed. She was allowed nine gallons of oil a week for heating and nine gallons of gasoline a week for the car if you had one. Gasoline at that time was ten cents a gallon.&lt;br /&gt;Another thing that Marie told me that after Japan bombed Pearl Harbor the government froze wages, and rents. Everything stayed at a stand still. People had to give up their aluminum pans and gold coins so the government could melt them down.&lt;br /&gt;Marie has a big thick cook book that her father gave her for a wedding gift. She said he paid a dollar for it. In that cook book she has several of the War Ration Books complete with stamps inside. &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/8578778803174227557-5422549390033860472?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/5422549390033860472/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/05/rationing-during-world-war-two.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/5422549390033860472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/5422549390033860472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/05/rationing-during-world-war-two.html' title='Rationing During World War Two'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SgG7GtOM6UI/AAAAAAAAAXA/68w6vSFso58/s72-c/ration+book+%26+stamps.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-7711038883571401799</id><published>2009-05-05T15:13:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T15:16:10.699-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Marie's Little Known Tips And Remedies</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SgC6kQEzpyI/AAAAAAAAAWo/cde7PSyE0jY/s1600-h/Marie+in+her+chair.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332467090759853858" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SgC6kQEzpyI/AAAAAAAAAWo/cde7PSyE0jY/s320/Marie+in+her+chair.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little known to me that is. Marie gave me tips on how to get rid of bugs in your garden today. Anyone that knows me will know exactly what I said when she told me to put quartered grapefruit in the rows in the garden. I said, “No way!” She laughed and said, “I didn’t have any money to buy things, I had to use what I had. Rotted oranges and grapefruit keep all the bugs and pests out of the plants. Sometimes you need to put a stick through them to hold them still but they work.” Me of little faith came home, got on the internet and lo and behold, the big farmers use extract of grapefruit. It even has a name with initials, like GES or some such thing.&lt;br /&gt;Then she was telling me about Octagon Soap. Has anyone ever heard of that? Once again, I got on the internet. The first thing I told Fran, Oh, that stuff is still being sold, but it is expensive; almost two dollars a bar. It helps multiple things; it cures acne which Marie told me, kills nits, which she told me. When I was on the internet I got on a chat room and found Octagon soap which is made by Colgate-Palmolive for as little as sixty eight cents a bar. The uses that people have for this soap is just amazing. They say that it stops itching for poison ivy, chiggers, bug bites. Fran says it’s good catfish bait, and so did the computer. It is also a household cleaner and is often used when the children are having carving contests in school. I also found it being sold by Piggly Wiggly stores, Kroegers, and many other grocery stores.&lt;br /&gt;Marie is a untapped resource for knowledge for me. I am so fortunate to have her as a mother-in-law. The only thing I need a computer for is to tell her stories.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8578778803174227557-7711038883571401799?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/7711038883571401799/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/05/maries-little-known-tips-and-remedies.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/7711038883571401799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/7711038883571401799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/05/maries-little-known-tips-and-remedies.html' title='Marie&apos;s Little Known Tips And Remedies'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SgC6kQEzpyI/AAAAAAAAAWo/cde7PSyE0jY/s72-c/Marie+in+her+chair.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-906008933896313586</id><published>2009-05-05T13:45:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T13:50:27.773-07:00</updated><title type='text'>FROM ROCK TO GYMNASTICS</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SgClrzbeuBI/AAAAAAAAAWg/X0mQoRIFkS0/s1600-h/gymnastic+team.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332444130765092882" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 227px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SgClrzbeuBI/AAAAAAAAAWg/X0mQoRIFkS0/s320/gymnastic+team.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Fran was playing guitar and attempting to sound like the Beatles with his buds, a friend came around and asked him if he would like to go and join the gymnastic team.&lt;br /&gt;Fran had never done this before. Roland joined up too. The boys did different kinds of things on the team, but they both enjoyed it. They played basketball, volley ball, and did gymnastics at Turner Hall in Fitchburg, Massachusetts.&lt;br /&gt;On the Fourth of July the gymnastic team members, girls and boys, would take all their equipment to the city park and have a demonstration for the citizens in the afternoon. Then the people would have the fireworks in the evening.&lt;br /&gt;They would have the parallel bars, horse, horizontal bars, side horse, jumping horse, high bar, uneven bars for the girls, the boys did the even bars. They did cartwheels, tumbling, back flips and lots of different things to entertain the folks that came to watch.&lt;br /&gt;Marie was the biggest fan. She went armed with her 8mm camera and took movies of her boys and the people. She showed movies on her projector for her family. I think she really enjoyed those performances, she talks about those times frequently. She wishes so that she had those movies once again so she could relive the “old times.”&lt;br /&gt;Fran and Roland were part of the gymnastic team for about two or three years. I look at Fran’s physique now and think, “no way.” &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Top Row: Fran 2nd from the left  Roland 3rd from the Right &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8578778803174227557-906008933896313586?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/906008933896313586/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/05/from-rock-to-gymnastics.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/906008933896313586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/906008933896313586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/05/from-rock-to-gymnastics.html' title='FROM ROCK TO GYMNASTICS'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SgClrzbeuBI/AAAAAAAAAWg/X0mQoRIFkS0/s72-c/gymnastic+team.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-2312850393919995937</id><published>2009-04-22T08:28:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-22T08:29:43.976-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Interesting Facts About Marie</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/Se832lUqJDI/AAAAAAAAATo/7_2kqYGy59U/s1600-h/Mary+Poppins.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327538295073809458" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/Se832lUqJDI/AAAAAAAAATo/7_2kqYGy59U/s400/Mary+Poppins.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marie was born in Finchburg, Massachusettes on July 6, 1915. She was the oldest girl and had twelve brothers and sisters.&lt;br /&gt;She made doll clothes in a factory for thirty two years. When Mary Poppins was popular, that factory made a hundred thousand dozen outfits for that doll. The outfit included the petticoats, dress, coat, hat, panties, and umbrella.&lt;br /&gt;She was taken out of school at thirteen. The truant officer and a doctor arrived at her home demanding that she return to school. Her mother said that girls did not need school to be mothers and wives. The school disagreed, but came to a compromise. She could stay home in the mornings to help her mother, the school system would pay her car fare to school until she turned sixteen. The hours she attended school were one until five in the afternoon. She learned a trade which was sewing. Her graduation certificate shows that she did excellent work in home economics especially sewing and had completed three hundred twelve hours of continuation school hours.&lt;br /&gt;Marie had lots of great aunts that gave her clothes and hats. She would tear them apart and remake them for clothes for herself. She told me everyone thought that she was rich because of the great creations that she made out of cast off clothes. She wanted to be a professional dress designer, but her parents would not allow it. She told me that she got “stepped on” a lot in those days. I smiled at her and told her that she would have made a great woman’s libber. She agreed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8578778803174227557-2312850393919995937?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/2312850393919995937/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/04/interesting-facts-about-marie.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/2312850393919995937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/2312850393919995937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/04/interesting-facts-about-marie.html' title='Interesting Facts About Marie'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/Se832lUqJDI/AAAAAAAAATo/7_2kqYGy59U/s72-c/Mary+Poppins.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-671153492948430649</id><published>2009-04-21T13:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T13:10:23.818-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Valuable Rubbish</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/Se4oEqOrSFI/AAAAAAAAATY/0AbXO850hps/s1600-h/big+house.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327239469746309202" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/Se4oEqOrSFI/AAAAAAAAATY/0AbXO850hps/s320/big+house.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marie told me a fascinating story the other day about the last house that she lived in with her brothers and sisters. I have a picture here. It is a really big house. It had eight bedrooms, kitchen, living room, dining room, and two bathrooms. Her father framed this house, but had help with the plastering, putting in a furnace and the electricity. Electricity in those days was fairly new.&lt;br /&gt;Her father worked for a paper mill. Her family had always lived in company houses and paid rent to the company.&lt;br /&gt;The houses that they lived in were lighted by gas so the lights were dim.&lt;br /&gt;They finally had enough money to buy land to build this house on but it was on swamp land. Marie was nine years old when they got to move into this house.&lt;br /&gt;It was situated with a large hole on one side of the house that needed to be filled in with dirt. Her father came up with the idea to go to city hall. He asked that the rubbish collectors fill this hole with trash and he would fill in the hole with dirt.&lt;br /&gt;Marie and her siblings that were old enough would watch for trash from homes where people had died. Sometimes the trash had shoes in it that had not been checked by the deceased relatives and they often found money in the shoes. Her parents used that money for shoes for their children. Marie said they also went blueberry picking to earn money for school clothes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8578778803174227557-671153492948430649?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/671153492948430649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/04/valuable-rubbish.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/671153492948430649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/671153492948430649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/04/valuable-rubbish.html' title='Valuable Rubbish'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/Se4oEqOrSFI/AAAAAAAAATY/0AbXO850hps/s72-c/big+house.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-5531180864859521513</id><published>2009-04-20T17:00:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-20T17:13:55.363-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Funny Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/Se0PgIeHnXI/AAAAAAAAATQ/1to9fxsVwDo/s1600-h/1938+23+yr+old+Marie.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326930978953207154" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/Se0PgIeHnXI/AAAAAAAAATQ/1to9fxsVwDo/s320/1938+23+yr+old+Marie.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked Marie to tell me a funny story. All her stories seemed to me so serious. Those of you that know me, know how much I love to laugh. Marie said, “I don’t know if I have a funny story.” The story she ended up telling me is hilarious in my estimation.&lt;br /&gt;At the time this story happened Marie had had three babies. She had gone to a Military Ball where Tommy Dorsey was going to be playing. Her second cousin’s daughter sang with his band. Marie’s cousin introduced Marie to Tommy and told him that Marie could sing. She asked him if Marie could sing with his band that night, just one song would be so nice of him. Tommy said, “Well get her up here.”&lt;br /&gt;There was just one problem, as with many new mothers, the babies had taken the calcium from her teeth. She had had to have her teeth pulled, so she carried a fan with her.&lt;br /&gt;In those days they had no microphones, so the audience had to be quiet as little mice. She sang a song with a fan in front of her face which made hearing her even more difficult for the audience. That night was exciting and embarrassing at the same time. However, how many of us can say we sang with the Tommy Dorsey Band?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8578778803174227557-5531180864859521513?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/5531180864859521513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/04/funny-story.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/5531180864859521513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/5531180864859521513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/04/funny-story.html' title='A Funny Story'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/Se0PgIeHnXI/AAAAAAAAATQ/1to9fxsVwDo/s72-c/1938+23+yr+old+Marie.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-763961283583012397</id><published>2009-04-19T08:59:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-20T11:09:27.058-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Wedding Party</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SetLFgqMY_I/AAAAAAAAASI/b5QDQhx_xGY/s1600-h/wedding+cake.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326433542334079986" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SetLFgqMY_I/AAAAAAAAASI/b5QDQhx_xGY/s320/wedding+cake.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SetK8ec4tiI/AAAAAAAAASA/QbzOUMYy9bg/s1600-h/wedding+party.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326433387122570786" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SetK8ec4tiI/AAAAAAAAASA/QbzOUMYy9bg/s320/wedding+party.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought it was interesting that there were three females in the wedding party and only one male. I went to visit Marie yesterday to get my questions answered. She said that when she was sixteen she joined a Catholic club called, “Child of Mary.” Every year the dues were one dollar and those accumulated. By the time she was twenty five and wanted to get married she only had to pay the priest fourteen dollars to perform the ceremony. She chose Jeanette Lizotte for her maid of honor, her sister Theresa was a Child of Mary and Helen was a Child of Mary.&lt;br /&gt;Marie said that the dresses for the bridesmaids and maid of honor were pink.&lt;br /&gt;Marie said that her mother-in-law made the cake; it was a white cake.&lt;br /&gt;Marie did buy her dress from a store called Rogers and borrowed her veil from a friend that had just got married a week or so before she did.&lt;br /&gt;Marie wore pearls that her mother gave her and still has them. Her bouquet was roses with an orchid in the middle. The orchid was worn for traveling on their honeymoon. She wore a suit for going away.&lt;br /&gt;Marie said that there was a lot of drinking at the house, but absolutely no drinking at the dance hall, per her mother’s orders. Her mother said that there had been enough drinking that day. The guests drank only soda at the hall&lt;br /&gt;It took two days of steady cooking to get ready for the wedding dinner. It consisted of sandwiches and salads. All the meat had to be ground for the sandwiches, and then of course, the mayonnaise and pickles, eggs and whatever else they decided to mix in with the meat. I silently wondered how they prevented people from getting sick, but kept that to myself. It just seemed a long time for mayonnaise and eggs to go not chilled. I am sure they had it figured out. They may have borrowed refrigerator space so that nothing would spoil.&lt;br /&gt;I hope you have enjoyed the stories about Marie and Raymond’s wedding as much as I have. The pictures above are the wedding party and their wedding cake. The cake was absolutely beautiful, wasn’t it?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I did double check on her grandchildren, she has twenty six and and thirty four great grandchildren and one great great grandchild. With the multitude of children that will survive her, Marie has left quite an inheritance of lives that will grow up to be maybe the President of the United States, or the best mom in town. Whatever they grow up to be Marie is and will be proud of them.&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/8578778803174227557-763961283583012397?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/763961283583012397/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/04/wedding-party.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/763961283583012397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/763961283583012397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/04/wedding-party.html' title='The Wedding Party'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SetLFgqMY_I/AAAAAAAAASI/b5QDQhx_xGY/s72-c/wedding+cake.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-7421610808913614051</id><published>2009-04-18T10:29:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-18T10:31:27.489-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How She Met The "One"</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SeoOQGGrNPI/AAAAAAAAARw/LX953A1DuSk/s1600-h/Maries+husband+dressed+for+his+first+date+with+her.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326085178998338802" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SeoOQGGrNPI/AAAAAAAAARw/LX953A1DuSk/s320/Maries+husband+dressed+for+his+first+date+with+her.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marie worked as a sewing machine operator in a factory that made men’s trousers. Marie made ten cents an hour until President Roosevelt said that was not enough money to sustain oneself, and the minimum wage was raised to twenty five cents an hour. Her future husband did heavy work there carrying bundles of trousers that had been made, inspected and bundled probably for shipping.&lt;br /&gt;I asked her today where they went on their first date. She smiled and said to a park. We were chaperoned by my sister.&lt;br /&gt;They had no car, so where they went they had to walk. The car that Raymond is leaning against is not his, but it makes a wonderful backdrop for this picture. Is he handsome or what?&lt;br /&gt;Marie worked in this factory for eleven years. Her husband changed jobs and worked in a gun factory during the war, and later retired from a Key and Lock business where he worked for twenty five years. During the war Raymond worked the night shift from six at night until six in the morning and made twenty five cents an hour.&lt;br /&gt;I asked Marie where they lived after they got married. She said that they lived in a cold water flat and paid five dollars a month. They paid their rent on a weekly basis. When she told me that, it made me feel so guilty about wasting money. If I lost a five dollar bill it would not mean that I could not pay my mortgage or rent. What a difference less than seventy years makes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8578778803174227557-7421610808913614051?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/7421610808913614051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/04/how-she-met-one.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/7421610808913614051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/7421610808913614051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/04/how-she-met-one.html' title='How She Met The &quot;One&quot;'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SeoOQGGrNPI/AAAAAAAAARw/LX953A1DuSk/s72-c/Maries+husband+dressed+for+his+first+date+with+her.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-688464511056524164</id><published>2009-04-16T16:02:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-16T16:43:02.940-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Wedding</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/See5SVAKiwI/AAAAAAAAARY/Pha0XyUpT1U/s1600-h/wedding+dress.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325428808915520258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/See5SVAKiwI/AAAAAAAAARY/Pha0XyUpT1U/s400/wedding+dress.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am an incurable romantic so of course, I wanted to know all about Marie’s wedding; out came the pictures. Each picture had a story. I was enthralled. I will, however, go back and get more stories to embellish the ones I have. Marie is like me and has a tendency to ramble because one story reminds her of another. See, I just did it!&lt;br /&gt;The picture that you see is Marie in her wedding dress. The picture that I put here does not do it justice. The dress has a long train that is swirled about her feet.&lt;br /&gt;Marie Rose Dora was married to Raymond Arthur on August 17, 1940 at the St. Joseph Church in Finchburg, Massachusettes. She said that approximately two hundred people attended their wedding. The wedding started at seven in the morning and the festivities did not end until eleven at night. The reception was held in a dance hall from seven until eleven. She said that more than one musical group performed. Her cousin’s band was one group that she could remember.&lt;br /&gt;Her husband’s family was from Michigan and they were also French. So I guess I have to believe my husband when he says that he is French.&lt;br /&gt;Marie has a picture which I will put on the blog some day of the wedding party. I do not believe that there were any relatives of her husband’s in the wedding party. They had two bridesmaids and a matron of honor and a best man whom was Marie's brother George. It was a very large wedding.&lt;br /&gt;After the wedding they went to Canada for their honeymoon. Marie did not want to go there, but there was some family members that insisted so that is where they went.&lt;br /&gt;Marie and Raymond were married for forty seven years before Raymond succumbed to cancer.&lt;br /&gt;Marie and her husband had four children. I will get the latest count of grandchildren and great grandchildren. I think there might be a great great grandchild, but I need to check on that. What a legacy!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8578778803174227557-688464511056524164?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/688464511056524164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/04/wedding.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/688464511056524164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/688464511056524164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/04/wedding.html' title='The Wedding'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/See5SVAKiwI/AAAAAAAAARY/Pha0XyUpT1U/s72-c/wedding+dress.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-3620101599105103697</id><published>2009-04-16T04:57:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-16T05:06:57.575-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Waylom Park</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SecfUfqqcYI/AAAAAAAAARA/WqRUOZCh5AQ/s1600-h/Whalom+sign.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325259521347187074" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 147px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SecfUfqqcYI/AAAAAAAAARA/WqRUOZCh5AQ/s200/Whalom+sign.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SecfGF_6w2I/AAAAAAAAAQ4/w2FsAFB22bY/s1600-h/Whalom.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325259273938846562" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 95px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SecfGF_6w2I/AAAAAAAAAQ4/w2FsAFB22bY/s200/Whalom.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SecetwfdcZI/AAAAAAAAAQw/zCz7qtmQFG8/s1600-h/1940cumings.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325258855848702354" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 90px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SecetwfdcZI/AAAAAAAAAQw/zCz7qtmQFG8/s200/1940cumings.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marie has a French and East Coast accent which sometimes makes it difficult for me to understand some of the proper names she is using. I got on the computer today to see if I could find any of these old theaters she was talking about. I hit the mother load. I asked Fran why all of these actors and actresses came to this area. Fran said that it was close to Boston and these famous people would go on tour. These theaters, Cumings Theater for one, held eight hundred people. Waylom Park was one of the most interesting things I read about.It had an oval shaped ceiling or roof which was enormous and only had two poles that supported it and they were eighty two feet apart. The huge area had a wonderful lake and amusement park that surrounded it. I thought for today’s article I would just put some pictures in for you to see. When you go to the computer if you would like to see the complete list of programs and newspaper clippings they play old player piano music for you while you slip into yesteryear.&lt;br /&gt;One interesting little quote from Marie was that she did not like Ronald Regan at all. When I asked her why, she said that he was arrogant and conceited and did not like fans to come up to him for autographs. She said he used his hands in a “shoo away” type manner that really put people off. Interesting.&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/8578778803174227557-3620101599105103697?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/3620101599105103697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/04/waylom-park.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/3620101599105103697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/3620101599105103697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/04/waylom-park.html' title='Waylom Park'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SecfUfqqcYI/AAAAAAAAARA/WqRUOZCh5AQ/s72-c/Whalom+sign.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-5495933212736281505</id><published>2009-04-15T05:13:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-15T05:35:53.333-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Amateur Talent Contest</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SeXUkV5AfeI/AAAAAAAAAQo/d7f0yHvkTpo/s1600-h/Marie.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324895855252110818" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SeXUkV5AfeI/AAAAAAAAAQo/d7f0yHvkTpo/s320/Marie.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SeXS6ZG-shI/AAAAAAAAAQg/LdXuVNJqqIo/s1600-h/Hank+Keene+pic.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324894035049886226" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SeXS6ZG-shI/AAAAAAAAAQg/LdXuVNJqqIo/s320/Hank+Keene+pic.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SeXSrg3lcZI/AAAAAAAAAQY/0TmBUru2vXw/s1600-h/Mr.+%26+Mrs+is+the+Name.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324893779434762642" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SeXSrg3lcZI/AAAAAAAAAQY/0TmBUru2vXw/s320/Mr.+%26+Mrs+is+the+Name.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Marie was sixteen she and a brother, George and a brother Bob and a friend Arthur entered an amateur talent contest. Marie played the piano and sang, George played the violin, and Bob played the banjo. Their friend, Arthur played the guitar. They won second place. This amateur contest opened the doors for Marie and her brothers to meet what were to be and at that time were already actors and actresses; there she met Roy Rogers at the Cummings Theater. They played at the Waylon Playhouse and met Barbara Stanwick and Myrna Loy.&lt;br /&gt;Marie said that one night her mom didn’t want to go to the circus grounds with her dad, so he took Marie since it was Ladies Night.&lt;br /&gt;That night she got to meet a Hillbilly singer by the name of Hank Keene and has his music book. I looked him up on the computer and he was a very famous country western classified as hillbilly in those days, singer and banjo player.&lt;br /&gt;Marie got to meet Gene Autry at the Strand Theater. She said that he talked to her some and was very pleasant. She also got to meet Jack Benny and his wife Mary Livingston. I was not aware that Jack Benny was very adamant about being nice to people and to not push people away that came to see him. That may be why he was so popular with his fans along with the fact that he was very funny. Marie said that a lot of people did not think that Jack Benny could play the violin, but in fact, he was a virtuoso violinist.&lt;br /&gt;Marie could yodel also and did some for me. She apologized for not being very good. I said that was fine because I can’t yodel at all!&lt;br /&gt;Marie was not allowed to continue to be part of the group for a long time because she was a girl, and that was not proper to hang out with the guys. She did, however, sing at weddings and birthday parties, when the group was asked to play. I asked her how much they were paid, and she said about two dollars a piece a night. One of the pictures shown is their theme song. Every time they played they played this song which is in a music book with Dick Powell on the cover and is ear marked to this day, so she could easily turn to the music she needed for the first number. The other picture is the Hank Keene music book which sold for fifty cents.&lt;br /&gt;I thought it was interesting she said she used to smoke. Soon she noticed that she couldn’t hit the high notes and quit, but she was never able to hit those notes again.&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/8578778803174227557-5495933212736281505?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/5495933212736281505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/04/amateur-talent-contest.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/5495933212736281505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/5495933212736281505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/04/amateur-talent-contest.html' title='Amateur Talent Contest'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SeXUkV5AfeI/AAAAAAAAAQo/d7f0yHvkTpo/s72-c/Marie.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-397150839187959063</id><published>2009-04-14T14:01:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T14:07:13.405-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The First Electric Sewing Machine</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SeT65gh_aTI/AAAAAAAAAQI/N9n_l3vh92o/s1600-h/sewing+machine+certificate.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324656525350758706" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SeT65gh_aTI/AAAAAAAAAQI/N9n_l3vh92o/s320/sewing+machine+certificate.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I spent another fascinating two hours with Marie. I took pictures and asked questions and took multitudes of notes. I told her that I have no clue where to start telling her stories. She just laughed and said, “Just start where you want to, I don’t care.”&lt;br /&gt;One of the stories I thought was interesting was the certificate that she showed me in what she calls her Generation Book. This book must weigh at least twenty pounds. All pictures are labeled and dated. The very first thing she showed me is the certificate that you see at the top of this page. It is a certificate for completing a twelve week course at Singer Sewing Machine Co. This course taught ladies how to use the first electric sewing machine and how to perfectly sew and finish a garment. Her mother attended the course with her, but her English was broken and she had some trouble understanding, so Marie helped her mom and learned at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;The language spoken in her parents home was French. Marie’s great great grandparents moved to the United States from Canada and spoke only French.&lt;br /&gt;Marie has many many stories about the language barrier and the problems that arose because of this.&lt;br /&gt;The sewing machine class was to promote itself as a career of over thirty two years of sewing professionally making doll clothes. I have made doll clothes a time or two and I didn’t like it at all. Marie and I will visit about the doll clothes factory more in the future.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8578778803174227557-397150839187959063?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/397150839187959063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/04/first-electric-sewing-machine.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/397150839187959063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/397150839187959063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/04/first-electric-sewing-machine.html' title='The First Electric Sewing Machine'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SeT65gh_aTI/AAAAAAAAAQI/N9n_l3vh92o/s72-c/sewing+machine+certificate.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8578778803174227557.post-2323619466354571588</id><published>2009-04-13T10:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-13T10:25:49.299-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Introduction To A Time In History</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SeN1GW3WQwI/AAAAAAAAAP4/x-jz69Qx-EE/s1600-h/Marie.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324227936559448834" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SeN1GW3WQwI/AAAAAAAAAP4/x-jz69Qx-EE/s320/Marie.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hello, Marie is my mother-in-law and she has consented to let me tell her stories on a blog. She is a fascinating woman who grew up in Massachusettes.Marie is a woman of many talents and many of the stories that we will tell will be related to her talents.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Some of you may say, "You are already telling stories of the old days, why another?" The answer is because these stories are from a totally different perspective than the ones that I have been telling. Marie and my mother were very close in age, however, my mother grew up and lived in the country and Marie grew up and lived in urban areas.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am fortunate enough to have Marie live just down the hill from my husband and I. She is constantly busy with making afghans, cooking, and laundry. She especially likes to garden and attacks weeds ferociously.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Stories that Marie will be telling will be recorded and then transcripted to the computer. There may be a lapse in time between stories, but that's alright, history will hopefully be written for all her children, grandchildren, greatgrandchildren and at this time, one great great grandchild to read.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Marie and I sincerely hope that you enjoy these stories and hopefully some of these stories will not repeat themselves in times to come. Lu Anne&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8578778803174227557-2323619466354571588?l=mrszotte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/feeds/2323619466354571588/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/04/introduction-to-time-in-history.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/2323619466354571588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8578778803174227557/posts/default/2323619466354571588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrszotte.blogspot.com/2009/04/introduction-to-time-in-history.html' title='Introduction To A Time In History'/><author><name>Lu's Place</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16674275321957496389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/TKH1-zX1hbI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/OHJ7C0f40-w/S220/lu+wiyh+hat.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q9dUp0t3ocE/SeN1GW3WQwI/AAAAAAAAAP4/x-jz69Qx-EE/s72-c/Marie.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
