<?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-4457357060131003604</id><updated>2012-02-16T05:58:07.282-08:00</updated><category term='Kids'/><category term='summer'/><category term='dashboard'/><category term='cookies'/><category term='baking'/><category term='Kassi'/><category term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>Thomson Times</title><subtitle type='html'>The life and times of the Marc &amp;amp; Kristi Thomson family.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>kristi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07257506805066316325</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>27</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4457357060131003604.post-6975600301143264523</id><published>2009-11-27T09:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-27T10:04:57.395-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Gross things kids say</title><content type='html'>Marc and I have decided we should start something called "gross things kids say".  Our 1st one is brought to you by Kassi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/SxAURW0mvZI/AAAAAAAAAEM/t8umkbyCC4U/s1600/P1010033.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/SxAURW0mvZI/AAAAAAAAAEM/t8umkbyCC4U/s200/P1010033.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408845440888520082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day her nose was running, and it looked like she was about to lick it.  I know this is gross enough all by itself. So I told her not to lick it, I was getting a kleenex. Her response was "it's ok mommy it is already in my tummy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sure we will have quite a few of these knowing our kids. We hope this makes someone besides us laugh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4457357060131003604-6975600301143264523?l=thomsontimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/feeds/6975600301143264523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4457357060131003604&amp;postID=6975600301143264523' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/6975600301143264523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/6975600301143264523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/2009/11/gross-things-kids-say.html' title='Gross things kids say'/><author><name>kristi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07257506805066316325</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/SxAURW0mvZI/AAAAAAAAAEM/t8umkbyCC4U/s72-c/P1010033.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4457357060131003604.post-3478266317431146638</id><published>2009-11-26T17:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-26T19:17:39.136-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kids'/><title type='text'>No, I didn't have the first 12 month pegnancy in human history! I am just not a good blogger.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/Sw8-hnUfX_I/AAAAAAAAADs/74OKQMaBFCQ/s1600/P1010020.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/Sw8-hnUfX_I/AAAAAAAAADs/74OKQMaBFCQ/s200/P1010020.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408610424706785266" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so we have been really bad about updating our blog for awhile. So there will probably be a lot of posts to get you up to date with our family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The very first and biggest update was the birth of our 4th child, Megan Whitney. Can you believe we have 4? I was supposed to be induced on August 21st, but Megan had other plans. My mom and my brother Jim were coming down from Idaho and had planned on being here for the birth. My mom was going to watch the other kids while Marc and I went to the hospital.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was having pretty regular contractions, but they didn't seem to be going anywhere. Marc went to Checker auto parts with Scott. Soon after, the contractions really started to increase, so I called him and told him he should probably come home. While he was on the way home, I was getting my bags ready for the hospital. Luckily, Haylee arrived at the house and volunteered to stay with the kids. My mom and my brother were still just north of Flagstaff, and the baby wasn't going to wait for them to get here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we got to the hospital I was already dilated  to a 5, but all of the delivery roo&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/Sw8-r9WH4FI/AAAAAAAAAD0/NfiOj2uL3aY/s1600/P1010017.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/Sw8-r9WH4FI/AAAAAAAAAD0/NfiOj2uL3aY/s200/P1010017.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408610602417905746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;ms were in use. I was going so fast that they put me in a room that is typically just used for storage and had machines to warm blankets and IV bags. I got an epidural and less than 10 minutes later the baby decided she was not waiting any longer. The on call Dr came, because my Dr didn't have time to get there. I pushed a few times and she was born. Megan Whitney, was born  at 7pm. She weighed 7lbs. 4oz. and was 19 inches long. She had brown hair and seemed really tiny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was a&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/Sw8-8z8d80I/AAAAAAAAAD8/Af5duOSvlSs/s1600/IMG_0391.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/Sw8-8z8d80I/AAAAAAAAAD8/Af5duOSvlSs/s200/IMG_0391.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408610891952157506" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; very quiet baby at first. After about 3 weeks she found her lungs, and a very loud cry. Luckily she doesn't use that very often. She is usually a very happy baby until the big &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/Sw8_n-qRM7I/AAAAAAAAAEE/8DOIAZYxPAU/s1600/P1010041.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/Sw8_n-qRM7I/AAAAAAAAAEE/8DOIAZYxPAU/s200/P1010041.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408611633562989490" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;kids start mauling her. She is starting to get brown eyes and has one of the cutest smiles ever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4457357060131003604-3478266317431146638?l=thomsontimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/feeds/3478266317431146638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4457357060131003604&amp;postID=3478266317431146638' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/3478266317431146638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/3478266317431146638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/2009/11/no-i-didnt-have-first-12-month-pegnancy.html' title='No, I didn&apos;t have the first 12 month pegnancy in human history! I am just not a good blogger.'/><author><name>kristi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07257506805066316325</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/Sw8-hnUfX_I/AAAAAAAAADs/74OKQMaBFCQ/s72-c/P1010020.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4457357060131003604.post-8476123383227082443</id><published>2009-08-27T11:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-27T11:46:04.400-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hilarious School Answering Machine Message</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Helvetica, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; white-space: normal; "&gt;This is the message that the Maroochydore High School, Queensland, Australia, staff voted unanimously to record on their school telephone answering machine. This is the actual answering machine message for the school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;object width="445" height="364"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/pGyPGmIPrDg&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00&amp;amp;border=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/pGyPGmIPrDg&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00&amp;amp;border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="445" height="364"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:Arial, sans-serif;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: medium; white-space: normal; "&gt;This came about because they implemented a policy requiring students and parents to be responsible for their children's absences and missing homework. The school and teachers are being sued by parents who want their children's failing grades changed to passing  grades - even though those children were absent 15-30  times during the semester and did not complete enough school work to pass their classes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4457357060131003604-8476123383227082443?l=thomsontimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/feeds/8476123383227082443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4457357060131003604&amp;postID=8476123383227082443' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/8476123383227082443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/8476123383227082443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/2009/08/hilarious-school-answering-machine.html' title='Hilarious School Answering Machine Message'/><author><name>Marc Thomson</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4457357060131003604.post-2072637501886137223</id><published>2009-08-02T21:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-02T21:42:09.450-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cookies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='summer'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dashboard'/><title type='text'>Dashboard Cookies</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;This is a fun project to try during the summer, but you'll need some HOT temperatures and about 3 hours (or more) when you don't need your vehicle.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-3df379ed31d12a2c" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v22.nonxt1.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D3df379ed31d12a2c%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331808930%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D84CB1443BDC2EFB41E42C86DBDD1070291FF4B18.80202ADE2DD3841A2CB4C8EF745B345E921C369D%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D3df379ed31d12a2c%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D1YiGj76HuOapejRUk1keJP6P7pA&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v22.nonxt1.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D3df379ed31d12a2c%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331808930%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D84CB1443BDC2EFB41E42C86DBDD1070291FF4B18.80202ADE2DD3841A2CB4C8EF745B345E921C369D%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D3df379ed31d12a2c%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D1YiGj76HuOapejRUk1keJP6P7pA&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4457357060131003604-2072637501886137223?l=thomsontimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=3df379ed31d12a2c&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/feeds/2072637501886137223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4457357060131003604&amp;postID=2072637501886137223' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/2072637501886137223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/2072637501886137223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/2009/08/dashboard-cookies_02.html' title='Dashboard Cookies'/><author><name>kristi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07257506805066316325</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4457357060131003604.post-1766310496232480400</id><published>2009-07-05T07:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-05T18:07:13.246-07:00</updated><title type='text'>4th of July</title><content type='html'>Just a quick 4th of July post to relay a funny story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were all sitting around the dinner table when I asked, "Scott, what do you like best about the 4th of July?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We get to stay up late," he responded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Katie, what do you like most about the 4th of July," I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We get to stay up late and watch fireworks," she answered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I continued my way around the table and asked Kassi, "What do you like most about the 4th of July."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without any hesitation she responded, "PUPPIES!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4457357060131003604-1766310496232480400?l=thomsontimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/feeds/1766310496232480400/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4457357060131003604&amp;postID=1766310496232480400' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/1766310496232480400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/1766310496232480400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/2009/07/just-quick-4th-of-july-post-to-relay.html' title='4th of July'/><author><name>Marc Thomson</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4457357060131003604.post-7854521836993408687</id><published>2009-05-10T14:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-10T14:40:25.087-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What am I teaching my kids?!?</title><content type='html'>So today Scott and Katie got into an argument over a Pokemon toy. I asked them to tell me what happened, and I got two different stories. No surprise there. Anyway, I told them that I knew someone was lying because their stories were different. Scott insisted Katie was lying, and Katie wasn't even trying to defend herself. I confronted Katie and asked if Scott was telling the truth. She reluctantly admitted that Scott was telling the truth, but flatly denied lying. She's bound to be a politician someday...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sent Katie to sit in a chair as punishment. After a few minutes, I asked her if she knew why it was a bad thing to tell a lie. She said that she knew once, but that she just forgot. Scott was sitting in the room, so I decided to ask him if he knew the answer. He said he did, so I decided to give him a chance to tell us all what he knew. He said, "If you lie, then you get on the bad list, and Santa might not come to your house." And then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "And Jesus doesn't like it when we lie, either."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It struck me as funny how his main reason was that he didn't want to end up on Santa's bad list, and I had to fake seriousness as I left the room suppressing laughter. I guess it's back to the drawing board for Scott....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4457357060131003604-7854521836993408687?l=thomsontimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/feeds/7854521836993408687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4457357060131003604&amp;postID=7854521836993408687' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/7854521836993408687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/7854521836993408687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/2009/05/what-am-i-teaching-my-kids.html' title='What am I teaching my kids?!?'/><author><name>Marc Thomson</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4457357060131003604.post-3772456198696388030</id><published>2009-04-29T16:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-29T17:03:34.660-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pool Season - It's Official!</title><content type='html'>The kids couldn't resist the lure of the cool pool waters any longer. So, we got them all dressed up in their swimming gear and out they went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U2fGjJiTCq0/SfjoDPXvNzI/AAAAAAAAAas/uOLhIuF7pxI/s1600-h/P4290014.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 278px; height: 209px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U2fGjJiTCq0/SfjoDPXvNzI/AAAAAAAAAas/uOLhIuF7pxI/s320/P4290014.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330265301356328754" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Scott was the first one to get in the pool, and I think he was shocked that the temperature of the water wasn't a little warmer. But he braved the cool water and splashed around quite a bit. It's funny to see how quickly they remember things they learned last summer when they get back in the water. Scott's a little rusty on his paddling, but he remembers the concept.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Katie was the second one in. She was much more timid than S&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U2fGjJiTCq0/Sfjo9fS0RBI/AAAAAAAAAa0/80Mniwd7D-4/s1600-h/P4290018.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U2fGjJiTCq0/Sfjo9fS0RBI/AAAAAAAAAa0/80Mniwd7D-4/s320/P4290018.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330266302063068178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;cott and she made sure that Daddy wasn't around to "help" her into the water. She was also a little shocked at the cold water, but she didn't let that stop her from being the last person out of the pool. It was actually pretty funny; Katie and Scott would get in the water until they just couldn't take the cold anymore. Then, they would get out of the water and sit on the sides in their "hot spots" to warm up.  Pretty soon, the idea of getting in the water again took hold and they would repeat the cycle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kassi was much less interested in swimming, once she felt the water. Actually, I think she got scared off because while she was walking around on the top stair in the water, she slipped and went all the way in. That chilled her enough that, for the rest of our time out by the pool, she would just walk around the pool saying, "brrrr!" She didn't want to take off all of her swimming paraphernalia though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U2fGjJiTCq0/Sfjpue7kN1I/AAAAAAAAAa8/Cw5oSu8d440/s1600-h/P4290017.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U2fGjJiTCq0/Sfjpue7kN1I/AAAAAAAAAa8/Cw5oSu8d440/s320/P4290017.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330267143779137362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4457357060131003604-3772456198696388030?l=thomsontimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/feeds/3772456198696388030/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4457357060131003604&amp;postID=3772456198696388030' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/3772456198696388030'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/3772456198696388030'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/2009/04/pool-season-its-official.html' title='Pool Season - It&apos;s Official!'/><author><name>Marc Thomson</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U2fGjJiTCq0/SfjoDPXvNzI/AAAAAAAAAas/uOLhIuF7pxI/s72-c/P4290014.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4457357060131003604.post-5911458771025469373</id><published>2009-03-02T12:47:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-02T13:07:03.374-08:00</updated><title type='text'>2 year old fun</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/SaxGuUkx9BI/AAAAAAAAADc/BnBMFrWjEZY/s1600-h/P3010003.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/SaxGuUkx9BI/AAAAAAAAADc/BnBMFrWjEZY/s400/P3010003.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308695822373876754" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;This is what happens when you let a 2 year old draw with markers, and then you walk out of the room for a minute.&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/4457357060131003604-5911458771025469373?l=thomsontimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/feeds/5911458771025469373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4457357060131003604&amp;postID=5911458771025469373' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/5911458771025469373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/5911458771025469373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/2009/03/2-year-old-fun.html' title='2 year old fun'/><author><name>kristi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07257506805066316325</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/SaxGuUkx9BI/AAAAAAAAADc/BnBMFrWjEZY/s72-c/P3010003.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4457357060131003604.post-4524811542633649377</id><published>2009-02-17T10:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T10:36:42.845-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Our Family</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-ff6b1b17f6735a5e" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v15.nonxt1.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dff6b1b17f6735a5e%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331808930%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D30A1945F5691CF59955C24D8EA4734596A1D065A.7DAC56C7650B82976AE67A634FEB6BA14426ECB7%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dff6b1b17f6735a5e%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D92fA5YIcpX2nukOpEAZKQ9LX7JE&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v15.nonxt1.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dff6b1b17f6735a5e%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331808930%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D30A1945F5691CF59955C24D8EA4734596A1D065A.7DAC56C7650B82976AE67A634FEB6BA14426ECB7%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dff6b1b17f6735a5e%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D92fA5YIcpX2nukOpEAZKQ9LX7JE&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4457357060131003604-4524811542633649377?l=thomsontimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=ff6b1b17f6735a5e&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/feeds/4524811542633649377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4457357060131003604&amp;postID=4524811542633649377' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/4524811542633649377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/4524811542633649377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/2009/02/our-family.html' title='Our Family'/><author><name>Marc Thomson</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4457357060131003604.post-4717935903881707764</id><published>2009-02-05T11:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T19:52:25.282-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The first broken bone in our family</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/SYuy7gZXJNI/AAAAAAAAAC8/ZsEH445hehw/s1600-h/P2040001.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/SYuy7gZXJNI/AAAAAAAAAC8/ZsEH445hehw/s200/P2040001.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299526121909855442" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had the 1st broken bone in our family (our kids anyway). Yesterday I went to take Katie to school and the girls jumped in the van. Katie got in the backseat and was trying to rearrange car seats, while Kassi got up on the middle seat. She was hanging her arm over the seat and we are not sure exactly how this happened, but she started crying and said her arm hurt. So I took her to urgent care thinking she had dislocated her elbow, this is very common in little kids; it is called a nurse maid injury.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/SYuy70pCCwI/AAAAAAAAADE/Zj718ZHAFbc/s1600-h/P2040002.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/SYuy70pCCwI/AAAAAAAAADE/Zj718ZHAFbc/s200/P2040002.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299526127344290562" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They took x-rays and tried to pop it back in a few times. She just kept saying it hurt. So the Dr. told me he didn't know what else to do. So he sent us home with a referral to a pediatric orthopedist. We got to see them this morning. They took more x-rays which meant more crying. The Dr. there said that Kassi had broken her elbow in the growth plate area. Then Kassi got to pick a cast color. She picked purple which she calls "boo". "Boo" is her word for blue and the only color word we can get her to say. After screaming for about half an hour the cast was finally finished. She walks around with a big smile and points to her arm and says "boo boo". She is very proud of the cast and a lot happier since the cast immobilized the elbow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/SYuy71r_UoI/AAAAAAAAADM/DI92hZ4QD-s/s1600-h/P2040003.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/SYuy71r_UoI/AAAAAAAAADM/DI92hZ4QD-s/s200/P2040003.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299526127625130626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4457357060131003604-4717935903881707764?l=thomsontimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/feeds/4717935903881707764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4457357060131003604&amp;postID=4717935903881707764' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/4717935903881707764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/4717935903881707764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/2009/02/first-broken-bone-in-our-family.html' title='The first broken bone in our family'/><author><name>kristi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07257506805066316325</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/SYuy7gZXJNI/AAAAAAAAAC8/ZsEH445hehw/s72-c/P2040001.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4457357060131003604.post-2765241821367307865</id><published>2009-01-26T16:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-26T16:59:56.321-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I haven't laughed this hard in a long time</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="445" height="364"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/83JDXXKzOXg&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0&amp;color1=0xcc2550&amp;color2=0xe87a9f&amp;border=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/83JDXXKzOXg&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0&amp;color1=0xcc2550&amp;color2=0xe87a9f&amp;border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="445" height="364"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4457357060131003604-2765241821367307865?l=thomsontimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/feeds/2765241821367307865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4457357060131003604&amp;postID=2765241821367307865' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/2765241821367307865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/2765241821367307865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-havent-laughed-this-hard-in-long-time.html' title='I haven&apos;t laughed this hard in a long time'/><author><name>kristi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07257506805066316325</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4457357060131003604.post-2312824964989033752</id><published>2009-01-16T10:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-16T16:01:16.808-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Where do kids come up with things</title><content type='html'>Some days I really wonder about my kids.  Last week Katie came out of her room wearing just her underwear. When I asked her why, totally seriously, she said that is how you be a duck. So she showed me. First you put your arms through the top of your underwear and out the legs holes. Then you bend over and run around flapping your arms and quacking. I had no idea that is how ducks came about.  Then yesterday anytime I would leave Kassi in a room by herself or she would play by herself, she would come find me totally naked except with underwear on her head.  I don't know how it is happening, but Marc or perhaps Uncle Colin shines through more and more everyday. ;-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4457357060131003604-2312824964989033752?l=thomsontimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/feeds/2312824964989033752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4457357060131003604&amp;postID=2312824964989033752' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/2312824964989033752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/2312824964989033752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/2009/01/where-do-kids-come-up-with-things.html' title='Where do kids come up with things'/><author><name>kristi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07257506805066316325</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4457357060131003604.post-2314031065772087688</id><published>2008-12-21T11:18:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-21T11:26:04.225-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Amazing Dancing Scott</title><content type='html'>I don't know where Scott picked this up, but he is a natural riverdancer. He picked up the robot dance from the movie 'Robots' (appropriate, huh?). You decide which style he should pursue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-e0d276cedc0cf139" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v12.nonxt6.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3De0d276cedc0cf139%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331808930%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D1D3D108284A3AC1694876006C09A05165D71B4DE.5AE315C721CF5147B63D04BE1368896DE077280E%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3De0d276cedc0cf139%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DrJBCsxhY5Nq6l2SzwyoS2CA6Kvk&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v12.nonxt6.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3De0d276cedc0cf139%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331808930%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D1D3D108284A3AC1694876006C09A05165D71B4DE.5AE315C721CF5147B63D04BE1368896DE077280E%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3De0d276cedc0cf139%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DrJBCsxhY5Nq6l2SzwyoS2CA6Kvk&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4457357060131003604-2314031065772087688?l=thomsontimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=e0d276cedc0cf139&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/feeds/2314031065772087688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4457357060131003604&amp;postID=2314031065772087688' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/2314031065772087688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/2314031065772087688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/2008/12/amazing-dancing-scott.html' title='The Amazing Dancing Scott'/><author><name>Marc Thomson</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4457357060131003604.post-2644260997816481466</id><published>2008-12-16T12:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-16T16:05:52.420-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Full moon over Mesa</title><content type='html'>For &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Marc's&lt;/span&gt; birthday I decided to send him to Canada to visit his family. I found a really good deal on airline tickets, and the last couple of years he has &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;said&lt;/span&gt; he missed the winter season. So I thought this would be perfect. He flew out of a smaller airport in south mesa on the morning of the 11&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;. I thought this was kind of a cool airport. It is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;a lot&lt;/span&gt; like airports used to be. You walk out on the tarmac to get on the plane and you can stand next to the runway and watch the plane take off.  They even have a little grassy area with a BBQ and picnic tables next to the runway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Marc checked in and the kids and I went out to watch him get on the plane.  We were all excited when we saw Marc walk out onto the runway, so I told the kids to wave at daddy.  The girls started waving and yelling to Marc, then I noticed Scott wasn't standing with the other 2. So I glanced back and he was standing back from me just a little and to the right, just out of sight.  He had decided that instead of waving to daddy it would be more fun to moon him instead. I WAS SO MAD!  I told him that better not ever happen again  and if it did he would not be having fun for a very  long time, he would go to school and come home and stay in his room except to eat until I forgot what he did. All I can say though, is that he &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;definitely&lt;/span&gt; acts more like his dad every day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4457357060131003604-2644260997816481466?l=thomsontimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/feeds/2644260997816481466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4457357060131003604&amp;postID=2644260997816481466' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/2644260997816481466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/2644260997816481466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/2008/12/full-moon-over-mesa.html' title='Full moon over Mesa'/><author><name>kristi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07257506805066316325</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4457357060131003604.post-2788183410412540433</id><published>2008-12-16T12:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-16T12:22:59.419-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mesa Temple lights</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/SUgN5k_IW2I/AAAAAAAAAB0/Ha8-7Fwpd-E/s1600-h/PC040051.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/SUgN5k_IW2I/AAAAAAAAAB0/Ha8-7Fwpd-E/s400/PC040051.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280485845924076386" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/SUgMpqtFSwI/AAAAAAAAABc/8XONa4WkJW0/s1600-h/PB280082.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/SUgMpqtFSwI/AAAAAAAAABc/8XONa4WkJW0/s200/PB280082.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280484473069456130" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to the Mesa temple lights as a family this year. They were so pretty this year. And the kids loved all the lights and the little recreations of the nativity story. After we saw the lights, we stopped at Starbucks for hot chocolate on the way home.  We drank as we were driving and all of a sudden we heard a lot of slurping and smacking and when we turned around all of the noise was coming from Kassi. The big kids had fallen asleep, and Kassi was not letting a drop of her hot chocolate go to waste. She ended up drinking 2 cups. Now she wont pass up a cup even if she thinks there is only a chance that there is hot chocolate in it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4457357060131003604-2788183410412540433?l=thomsontimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/feeds/2788183410412540433/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4457357060131003604&amp;postID=2788183410412540433' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/2788183410412540433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/2788183410412540433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/2008/12/mesa-temple-lights.html' title='Mesa Temple lights'/><author><name>kristi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07257506805066316325</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/SUgN5k_IW2I/AAAAAAAAAB0/Ha8-7Fwpd-E/s72-c/PC040051.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4457357060131003604.post-7977527340846678912</id><published>2008-12-16T11:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-21T11:33:07.793-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Oil Changing Fun</title><content type='html'>One day while Marc was at work I decided to change the oil in the truck, and the girls decided to help me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/SUgI1IKOVPI/AAAAAAAAABM/r3Lv9cNtpDE/s1600-h/PA050011.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/SUgI1IKOVPI/AAAAAAAAABM/r3Lv9cNtpDE/s320/PA050011.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280480271908361458" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was kind of a messy job with 2 little girls sticking their hands in everything and trying to use the tools.  But with all of their help we got done pretty quickly with only minimal mess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/SUgIVbnxN0I/AAAAAAAAABE/p0sCpFkKq6I/s1600-h/PA080001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/SUgIVbnxN0I/AAAAAAAAABE/p0sCpFkKq6I/s320/PA080001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280479727376742210" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kassi had a little grease on her face and Katie ended up rolling around and playing under the truck until her hair ended up in the used oil container that I had just finished filling to the top. She looked kind of funny with one long black streak on the left side of her hair.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4457357060131003604-7977527340846678912?l=thomsontimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/feeds/7977527340846678912/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4457357060131003604&amp;postID=7977527340846678912' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/7977527340846678912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/7977527340846678912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/2008/12/oil-changing-fun.html' title='Oil Changing Fun'/><author><name>kristi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07257506805066316325</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/SUgI1IKOVPI/AAAAAAAAABM/r3Lv9cNtpDE/s72-c/PA050011.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4457357060131003604.post-1933401307753281385</id><published>2008-12-16T11:41:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-16T12:07:05.548-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Our little girl is not a baby anymore</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/SUgFjauRyCI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Y2no7HCRrNA/s1600-h/PA260038.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/SUgFjauRyCI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Y2no7HCRrNA/s400/PA260038.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280476669118892066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/SUgF8K4TS-I/AAAAAAAAAA8/IUHDodNtIas/s1600-h/PA260034.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/SUgF8K4TS-I/AAAAAAAAAA8/IUHDodNtIas/s320/PA260034.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280477094362696674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On October 27&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;  our little "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;tassi&lt;/span&gt; woo" turned 2.  For those of you who don't know our kids couldn't say some of their letters when Kassi was born and they kept calling her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Tassi&lt;/span&gt; and stuck and we added a woo.  She is so big now I can't believe how fast time flies.  On a side note there are good things about them getting older, for instance Kassi potty trained herself 2 1/2 months before her second birthday. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Yeah&lt;/span&gt; for us, no more diapers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She really loves presents, so ripping all that paper was very exciting for her.  She got 2 Dogs which are her favorite things right now. She also got her very own princess crown, hopefully she will stop trying to steal her sisters crown.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4457357060131003604-1933401307753281385?l=thomsontimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/feeds/1933401307753281385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4457357060131003604&amp;postID=1933401307753281385' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/1933401307753281385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/1933401307753281385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/2008/12/our-little-girl-is-not-baby-anymore.html' title='Our little girl is not a baby anymore'/><author><name>kristi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07257506805066316325</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/SUgFjauRyCI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Y2no7HCRrNA/s72-c/PA260038.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4457357060131003604.post-5920232269246499578</id><published>2008-12-16T11:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-16T12:07:56.157-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Halloween</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/SUf_puk0HsI/AAAAAAAAAAM/hMRBkAh236U/s1600-h/PA300057.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/SUf_puk0HsI/AAAAAAAAAAM/hMRBkAh236U/s400/PA300057.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280470180457356994" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/SUgAAechoVI/AAAAAAAAAAU/WcvRPg07yw8/s1600-h/PA300048.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/SUgAAechoVI/AAAAAAAAAAU/WcvRPg07yw8/s200/PA300048.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280470571264614738" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Halloween was alot of fun we carved pumpkins.  Scott didn't want to get his hands gooey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/SUgB38nooMI/AAAAAAAAAAc/ws_R16SQpJQ/s1600-h/PA300042.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/SUgB38nooMI/AAAAAAAAAAc/ws_R16SQpJQ/s200/PA300042.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280472623768707266" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;                                               The girls had no problems with this though,&lt;br /&gt;                                          they were both in to their armpits and smiled                                                 the whole time. The kids picked their costumes and Katie of course chose to be a princess, Scott wanted to be an army  guy so that he could carry his little cap rifle.  Kassie is a different story though, since she wont talk still and would just grunt in her little language I decided that she would be a fairy this year, which must have been what she was trying to tell us, because she loved i&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/SUgD2ix_X5I/AAAAAAAAAAs/mwvPCv1JPE4/s1600-h/PA300043.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/SUgD2ix_X5I/AAAAAAAAAAs/mwvPCv1JPE4/s200/PA300043.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280474798676205458" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;t. We got to go trick or treating a                                                couple of times this year. Our ward had a trunk-                                                or-treat and then the next night we got to trick-                                               or-treat in our neighborhood.  The kids made                                                quite a haul. They are still trying to finish the                                              last of the halloween candy and it is only a week until Christmas.  I think                                               our kids favorite part of halloween is when we went to Uncle Greg and                                              Aunt Michelles house.  They got to play with Ashley, and uncle Greg                                                teased them and then he even let them play with the little dog Lucy. On                                            Monday when I took the kids to school the first thing they both told their                                            teachers was about playing with Lucy.&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/4457357060131003604-5920232269246499578?l=thomsontimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/feeds/5920232269246499578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4457357060131003604&amp;postID=5920232269246499578' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/5920232269246499578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/5920232269246499578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/2008/12/halloween.html' title='Halloween'/><author><name>kristi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07257506805066316325</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3SvTraS1EI/SUf_puk0HsI/AAAAAAAAAAM/hMRBkAh236U/s72-c/PA300057.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4457357060131003604.post-1545978529579801864</id><published>2008-09-07T09:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-07T09:29:18.538-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Scott Learns To Ride</title><content type='html'>Scott has been riding a bike for a couple of years now, but never without training wheels. For his birthday, this past July, we got him a bigger bike, since he had outgrown his first bike. He hasn't been able to ride it yet because it doesn't have training wheels. A few days ago, before he rode to school, I decided to raise the training wheels on his old bike up a couple of centimeters. It didn't even seem to phase him. Every once in a while, he would lose balance a little and his training wheels would catch him, but otherwise he did fine. Time to take them off, I think...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U2fGjJiTCq0/SMP-G1IoFaI/AAAAAAAAATM/8uI_K_ii2A8/s1600-h/P9050001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U2fGjJiTCq0/SMP-G1IoFaI/AAAAAAAAATM/8uI_K_ii2A8/s320/P9050001.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243313784485320098" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So, Saturday morning, the family headed out to the park before it got too hot. I took the training wheels off his bike and Scott was excited. I wasn't sure he would be since he sometimes lacks confidence in trying new things. But he was quite positive about the idea of being a big boy and riding without any help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We put on his biking gloves, elbow pads, and knee pads (we forgot his helmet, DOH!) and then got his bike ready for him. He did some fine tuning on the direction of the bike, the position of the pedals and then lined the wheels up with a crack in the sidewalk (what that does, only he knows). I got behind him, put my hand on the bike seat and told him how to get started. He took a couple of unsteady pushes with his foot and then off he went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U2fGjJiTCq0/SMP_7-oL5qI/AAAAAAAAATc/a7jFOIGAvww/s1600-h/P9050007.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U2fGjJiTCq0/SMP_7-oL5qI/AAAAAAAAATc/a7jFOIGAvww/s320/P9050007.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243315797078304418" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was fully expecting a few crashes, some crocodile tears and plenty of drama, but none of that materialized. He just went. I jogged behind him as he went down the sidewalk, and though he was a little unsteady at time, he never once came close to falling. After a little bit of coaching on how to get started (that's the hardest part, you know) he became an expert. He rode all around one end of the park, and just kept going. I really think he likes his new found freedom.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U2fGjJiTCq0/SMQA_EktU9I/AAAAAAAAATk/rWfIFoRrWqc/s1600-h/IMG_0068.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U2fGjJiTCq0/SMQA_EktU9I/AAAAAAAAATk/rWfIFoRrWqc/s320/IMG_0068.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243316949725565906" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4457357060131003604-1545978529579801864?l=thomsontimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/feeds/1545978529579801864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4457357060131003604&amp;postID=1545978529579801864' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/1545978529579801864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/1545978529579801864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/2008/09/scott-learns-to-ride.html' title='Scott Learns To Ride'/><author><name>Marc Thomson</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U2fGjJiTCq0/SMP-G1IoFaI/AAAAAAAAATM/8uI_K_ii2A8/s72-c/P9050001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4457357060131003604.post-3225850823849164946</id><published>2008-07-27T21:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-27T21:07:53.991-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanks for the memories...</title><content type='html'>I was just at my sister's blog and I saw this post...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="border:1px solid black;background-color:white;padding:5px;margin:5px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Here are the directions: 1. As you comment on my blog, leave one memory that you and I had together. It doesn't matter if you knew me a little or a lot, anything you remember! 2. Next, re-post these instructions on your blog and see how many people leave a memory about you. It's actually pretty funny to see the responses. If you leave a memory about me, I'll assume you're playing the game and I'll come to your blog and leave one about you. If you don't want to play on your blog, or if you don't have a blog, I'll leave my memory of you in my comments.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I thought it might be an interesting experiment...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4457357060131003604-3225850823849164946?l=thomsontimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/feeds/3225850823849164946/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4457357060131003604&amp;postID=3225850823849164946' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/3225850823849164946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/3225850823849164946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/2008/07/thanks-for-memories.html' title='Thanks for the memories...'/><author><name>Marc Thomson</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4457357060131003604.post-8312853138415372425</id><published>2008-06-11T11:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-11T11:48:05.305-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Tiger Twins</title><content type='html'>I should have posted this a couple of weeks ago, but I just kept forgetting... is old age setting in?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a typical day, Kristi put the kids down for "quiet time"; Scott in his room, and Katie and Kassi in their room. Not long after, Kristi realized it had gotten &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;really&lt;/span&gt; quiet. She went to investigate. This is what she found:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_U2fGjJiTCq0/SFAcswDqdmI/AAAAAAAAARo/cStomb1REU4/s320/P5150009.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210696324007753314" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Katie decided that it would be really fun to be tigers, so she got a pen and drew tiger stripes on her and Kassi. If you look closely, you'll also see a little stick figure on Katie's left arm... I think &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; talent.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4457357060131003604-8312853138415372425?l=thomsontimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/feeds/8312853138415372425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4457357060131003604&amp;postID=8312853138415372425' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/8312853138415372425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/8312853138415372425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/2008/06/tiger-twins.html' title='The Tiger Twins'/><author><name>Marc Thomson</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U2fGjJiTCq0/SFAcswDqdmI/AAAAAAAAARo/cStomb1REU4/s72-c/P5150009.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4457357060131003604.post-3876249330769192153</id><published>2008-06-01T18:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-01T21:30:33.168-07:00</updated><title type='text'>10 Reasons to Weight Train</title><content type='html'>I put this here more for my own reference than anything, but it is good information and it doesn't hurt to share it, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;font-size:14pt;"&gt;10 Reasons to Weight Train&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Original By Kelly James-Enger&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;It works.&lt;/span&gt; "One of the beauties of strength training is that it's a very efficient way to not only improve your appearance, but your overall health," says Brad Schoenfeld, author of Look Great Sleeveless (Prentiss Hall, 2002.) Just three 30- to 45-minute sessions a week will produce results&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;You'll look better.&lt;/span&gt; Nothing sculpts your body like weight training -- you must overload your muscles to change their shape. And firm muscles also help mask the appearance of cellulite by smoothing out those lumps and bumps.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;You burn more calories.&lt;/span&gt; Every pound of muscle you gain burns about 50 calories a day, even at rest, meaning you can eat more and maintain your weight, says Schoenfeld.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;It keeps you young.&lt;/span&gt; Women in their 30s begin to lose about 1 percent of their muscle mass per year. Weight training staves that off and helps you maintain bone mass to combat osteoporosis.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;It makes you tougher.&lt;/span&gt; And less prone to injury -- the stronger your muscles are, the less likely you are to get hurt, says exercise physiologist Richard Cotton of First Fitness, Inc.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;It reduces anxiety.&lt;/span&gt; Studies show that pumping iron reduces anxiety and eases depression. Channel the stresses of the day into your workout, and leave them at the gym.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;It boosts your metabolism.&lt;/span&gt; When you weight train, you increase your metabolism -- it's like replacing a 4-cylinder engine with an 8-cylinder one, says Cotton. You have more power, and you need more fuel.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;It improves your posture.&lt;/span&gt; Not only will you stand straighter, you'll feel more confident as well -- research shows that weight lifting improves self-esteem, says Cotton.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;It makes life easier.&lt;/span&gt; Strength training -- duh -- makes you stronger so you're better able to perform functional tasks like carrying groceries or picking up your two-year-old.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;You'll reduce your body fat.&lt;/span&gt; Proper diet and weight training will lower your body fat. Even if the scale number doesn't change, you're replacing fat with denser muscle, which means you'll lose inches, says Cotton.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4457357060131003604-3876249330769192153?l=thomsontimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/feeds/3876249330769192153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4457357060131003604&amp;postID=3876249330769192153' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/3876249330769192153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/3876249330769192153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/2008/06/10-reasons-to-weight-train.html' title='10 Reasons to Weight Train'/><author><name>Marc Thomson</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4457357060131003604.post-5975108783577749397</id><published>2008-03-29T12:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-29T12:48:12.452-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A funny Katie moment...</title><content type='html'>Yesterday, our ward had a young women's spaghetti dinner and silent auction. I didn't make it, but I guess it was pretty good, because Katie really didn't want to leave. Kristi and Haylee were putting the kids in the van when Katie decided that all her screaming and fussing wasn't working well enough. So, she took it to the next level and started kicking, pinching and hitting Haylee as she was helping Katie with her seatbelt.&lt;br /&gt;When they got home, Katie got to have a talk with me. Here's a snippet from the condensed version:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "...Ok, Katie. Now remember that even though you're in trouble, I still love you."&lt;br /&gt;Katie: "I already know that, Daddy! You tell me that all the time. You tell me that too much today! It's already in my head!"&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Katie, be nice or you'll find yourself in more trouble. You need to be nice to people: don't hit, don't punch, don't kick, don't bite, don't pinch. Be nice. Now I want you to put that in your head and remember it, ok?"&lt;br /&gt;Katie: "I already did, Daddy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, today, as Katie and Scott were getting in the van to go to a birthday party, a fight broke out between them over who got to carry the present. I stepped in and sent them both to their room. I came in a little while later to talk to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Katie, do you remember the talk we had yesterday about being nice?"&lt;br /&gt;Katie: (sheepishly) "Yes..."&lt;br /&gt;Me: "What did I tell you to remember?"&lt;br /&gt;Katie: "I dunno..."&lt;br /&gt;Me: "What did I tell you to put in your head and remember?"&lt;br /&gt;Katie: "I already don't know! I don't have nothing in my head anymore!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say, I had a very difficult time keeping a straight face after hearing that retort. How am I supposed to respond to that?!?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4457357060131003604-5975108783577749397?l=thomsontimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/feeds/5975108783577749397/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4457357060131003604&amp;postID=5975108783577749397' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/5975108783577749397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/5975108783577749397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/2008/03/funny-katie-moment.html' title='A funny Katie moment...'/><author><name>Marc Thomson</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4457357060131003604.post-3250399110843765019</id><published>2008-03-16T14:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-16T15:11:44.808-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;h1 style="text-align: center; font-family: serif; font-size: 14pt;"&gt;Life Rife With Change As Everything Remains Constant&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/h1&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Mar 16 09:31 AM US/Pacific&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:10;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;By: MARC THOMSON&lt;br /&gt;Thomson Times Editor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;In my experience, it is commonly perceived that, in the absence of dramatic events, life remains constant. Not so. It's easy for me to slip into the thinking that other people's lives are more exciting than my own. In reality, life is as exciting as you want it to be. For some, excitement is an undesireable attribute, replaced instead by stability and predictability. I like a little of both, I think.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;p&gt;As days, weeks, and months go by, I find myself reading over the events occurring in other people's lives, whether in their blogs, on the family websites, or in email. As I read, I find myself wondering what kinds of stories or events I could share in return that the reader would find interesting and entertaining. Nothing really comes to mind. I think I'm living in the stability and predictability portion of the cycle. But it's not all that bad.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;p&gt;Looking back on my life for the past few years, I graduated from college (twice), moved 1,400 miles from the place I grew up to a place completely alien, got a good job, got married, had three kids, lost some loved ones and gained others. So, I can't say my life has been boring; however, I can say that I feel like something big is on the horizon. God doesn't seem to like letting me slip into complacency, preferring instead to keep me on my toes.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;p&gt;As I write this, I hear the sounds of the kids getting ready for church: Katie is in the tub singing a song she made up, Scott is asking Kristi about how to spell a word, Kassi is making baby noises to herself while she drags her favorite blanket around the floor, and Kristi is preparing something for Young Womens. It's a typical Sunday morning.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;p&gt;I guess I should spend some time to give an update on what each family member is doing these days. Let's start with the youngest...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;p&gt;Kassi continues to transition from being a little baby to a little girl, though she thinks she's as big as Scott and Katie. She likes to explore the house and get into things she's not supposed to. She seems to like to bump her head on things as she can rarely be found without a bruise on her head somewhere. Her red hair is coming in thicker and I can't help but notice the redhead attitude she has to match. She isn't much of a talker yet, but she has her moments. She also loves to play in the sandbox with the big kids and is quite a connoisseur of sand and mud. But, on the flip side, she loves looking pretty and will frequently want "pretties" put in her hair so she can show them off to Daddy.&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;/td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;p&gt;Katie is a typical little girl with a very special spirit. She loves learning new things and will often attempt to do Scott's homework with him. She makes me so proud with her eagerness to learn and her ability to absorb information. She still likes to sign phrases and words, and is always interested in learning more sign language. I truly think she's blessed with intelligence. Her latest exciting news is that she gets to give her first talk in primary today. She's been looking forward to this day for quite some time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;p&gt;Scott is going through another growth spurt. Yesterday, I noticed that the sleeves on the shirt he was wearing ended a good five centimeters above his wrist. He seems to be quite the popular kid at school, which I cannot relate to one bit. He will make an excellent missionary one day because he has no reservations with talking to anyone. Scott is quickly developing his sense of humor and is quick to share or play a joke on anyone who will let him. He loves riding in the truck and refers to the two of us as "truck guys." He especially loves treasure hunting in the hills of Arizona and will bring home all sorts of rock as his reward.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;p&gt;Kristi has been developing the talent of juggling over the past few years. She is currently juggling the rigors of homemaking, raising kids, managing finances (yes, I know I should be more involved with this...), and fulfilling her church calling in the Young Womens organization. She always seems to have so many balls in the air, I constantly wonder how she does it all. She is currently busy preparing for this year's Pioneer Trek and at the same time planning for Young Women's camp. What a busy,&lt;br /&gt;      busy job. What amazes me about Kristi is how she keeps so much of this straight in her head... I don't think I could do it.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;p&gt;I have been spending much of my spare time trying to get back into shape. Over the last eight years I did a great job of getting out of shape. But now I think it's important to change that so I can spend as many enjoyable years with my family as possible. I've also started learning morse code... again. One day, I'll get it down. It's not so much a requirement for a Ham radio license anymore as it is a personal challenge. That's about it for me right now.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;p&gt;Hopefully, I'll feel more inclined or inspired to write again sooner.&lt;br /&gt;       Until then, hasta la vista!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4457357060131003604-3250399110843765019?l=thomsontimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/feeds/3250399110843765019/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4457357060131003604&amp;postID=3250399110843765019' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/3250399110843765019'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/3250399110843765019'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/2008/03/life-rife-with-change-as-everything.html' title=''/><author><name>Marc Thomson</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4457357060131003604.post-2299041694924166739</id><published>2007-12-12T14:03:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-12T14:15:06.491-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>Mesa Temple Lights</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_U2fGjJiTCq0/R2Ba5RS0wuI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/CPkrulPzqHY/s1600-h/00051.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_U2fGjJiTCq0/R2Ba5RS0wuI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/CPkrulPzqHY/s320/00051.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5143210714398507746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Well, we made our almost-yearly visit to the temple lights in Mesa last Sunday. I look forward to going every year for a number of reasons. One of my earliest memories of Arizona was when my family came to Arizona to visit the extended family. During that trip, we went to the temple grounds and checked out the lights. I don't remember much else from that trip; I was too impressed by the lights, I guess.&lt;br /&gt;Another reason I look forward to going to the temple lights is that it gives me a great opportunity to play with my camera. Granted, I don't have the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;best&lt;/span&gt; camera in the world, not even one of the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;better&lt;/span&gt; cameras available, but I love taking pictures. I forgot the tripod again this year, so I found myself using trees, chairs, signs, or any other fixed object as a tripod. The picture to the right is looking south from the visitor's center using the information sign as a tripod. It's not the clearest shot, but it's one of the better ones I ended up with.&lt;br /&gt;Kristi and the kids had a fun time, even though it was kind of cold (for us Arizonans). We took our "adopted" daughter, Haylee, with us this time, and the kids really had a good time with her. It was her first time seeing the lights, and she's lived here her whole life.&lt;br /&gt;Some of my family is coming down this week for a funeral, so we may have to make another trip to the temple before they head back to Canada.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4457357060131003604-2299041694924166739?l=thomsontimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/feeds/2299041694924166739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4457357060131003604&amp;postID=2299041694924166739' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/2299041694924166739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/2299041694924166739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/2007/12/mesa-temple-lights.html' title='Mesa Temple Lights'/><author><name>Marc Thomson</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U2fGjJiTCq0/R2Ba5RS0wuI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/CPkrulPzqHY/s72-c/00051.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4457357060131003604.post-2250824797079988468</id><published>2007-11-25T15:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-25T15:52:58.306-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kassi'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kids'/><title type='text'>Kassi's Chocolate Experiment</title><content type='html'>This actually happened a few weeks ago, but I'm just now adding it to the blog. This is a video of how I found Kassi one morning when things had gotten really quiet, which is never a good thing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-be837115c2528765" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v3.nonxt1.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dbe837115c2528765%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331808930%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D79A78827E02F5BF595FADC128F6ABB9E1ACDACE9.755225C6A49973579209B401956F7E2E453EFEE8%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dbe837115c2528765%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D6HMfbnc1brtU14Rs1O6ilXkh8Og&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v3.nonxt1.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dbe837115c2528765%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331808930%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D79A78827E02F5BF595FADC128F6ABB9E1ACDACE9.755225C6A49973579209B401956F7E2E453EFEE8%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dbe837115c2528765%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D6HMfbnc1brtU14Rs1O6ilXkh8Og&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you can see, she found Kristi's treat bag from her latest shopping expedition. Kassi picked the 3 Musketeers Mint chocolate bar and was in the middle of devouring it. She screamed very loudly when I took her new found treat away.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4457357060131003604-2250824797079988468?l=thomsontimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=be837115c2528765&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/feeds/2250824797079988468/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4457357060131003604&amp;postID=2250824797079988468' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/2250824797079988468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/2250824797079988468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/2007/11/kassis-chocolate-experiment.html' title='Kassi&apos;s Chocolate Experiment'/><author><name>Marc Thomson</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4457357060131003604.post-3421165120744635635</id><published>2007-11-01T21:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-01T21:38:02.468-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome</title><content type='html'>Welcome to the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Thomson Times&lt;/span&gt; blog. This is my attempt at keeping some sort of record for family and friends... and anyone else who may be interested in reading about what is going on in the Marc &amp;amp; Kristi Thomson family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to start this with a disclaimer that although my intentions may be ambitious, maybe even noble, I have a really hard time keeping up with projects such as this. Therefore, if you haven't seen anything new in a while, feel free to pester and annoy me until I am motivated enough to resume posting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here goes nothing....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4457357060131003604-3421165120744635635?l=thomsontimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/feeds/3421165120744635635/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4457357060131003604&amp;postID=3421165120744635635' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/3421165120744635635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4457357060131003604/posts/default/3421165120744635635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thomsontimes.blogspot.com/2007/11/welcome.html' title='Welcome'/><author><name>Marc Thomson</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
