tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41670358677741208992024-03-12T17:55:19.111-07:00bella bambini"Like branches on the tallest tree we grow in different directions yet our roots always remain as one. Each of our lives will always be a special part of the other, we are sisters"Brooke Brookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10559160759907149362noreply@blogger.comBlogger5125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167035867774120899.post-8956546279744444742008-09-21T16:29:00.001-07:002008-09-21T21:52:00.176-07:00Last Day of Summer 2008<div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzlTdHadTRpmZQPLDkRwDsep1SuAegA23-k1_fukGdBugTyUyqG1gDl-rndpSKwl5g8HQIycJ9ChLGZ-Ok7LBLlxlsoS7xh6Wqi07MkMuLuNurbyiIf515iF0pBcMaz5VIWDzTrgW7Jun0/s1600-h/September+2008+037.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248621954383248946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzlTdHadTRpmZQPLDkRwDsep1SuAegA23-k1_fukGdBugTyUyqG1gDl-rndpSKwl5g8HQIycJ9ChLGZ-Ok7LBLlxlsoS7xh6Wqi07MkMuLuNurbyiIf515iF0pBcMaz5VIWDzTrgW7Jun0/s400/September+2008+037.JPG" border="0" /></a> Painting a masterpiece in the front yard</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248627887862417138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDrMkmimpO0fGBfy0nGNA4aXFLE5cPAEZJI-4bMD9hP-GrCttd3kDTihWygs7WzxMSlVmneNMiM0m_jhOQm_V4V4seck9cB4oXghnt2AaJ_kkgoPXn_vo46lKDwx1fnKULAlJkY1o-FseP/s400/September+2008+051.JPG" border="0" /></div><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248623796233548466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY5mLp74Znu7M8BAcFoO5RZrEcW0Ma7vQyj2rH4OzRFYFgnY5UgIPiMU09qUYrRQZvB9hQgwCQLlXVqnubjC_b2dTLckwT6iJWMQ4yYQlTPSd11uprRySEoVwV7s6bQgVAS5Jrhc__F6Kk/s400/September+2008+039.JPG" border="0" />Baseball star, and look my nails match the duct tape on the bat<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248628889773124370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVUmFMfpJUhsng6VTjxezZ0sunfiSlwHNC-0ZvVz-M7h3d0N8jDRtfE2HB2SVkwS62jGqnxlTQNlIJbKDR2YzWUXofT6g2C67bSLbhafdHqkj6X8UspT5p87qX0O5oLN_qX-bp_TpViGUW/s400/September+2008+050.JPG" border="0" /></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248624629017041698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTk9-EZMHV_YVw2jEiqOEVIU100Ojl61mGItw0LwU_RRCB8Qc7RwDKbrvG17nagrhZVYQUp9b3Gz3U_uGSgUQXJkEw1Ehm-cQWBKI8ZM_JBhnASYGi9gBYL388Spee2FUB3u1mdxe7Nq3a/s400/September+2008+042.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center"> It reminds the girls of something in Whoville<br /><br /></p><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248635142241031954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTiwT1WqDvYF2mzXZJvCQ17Q1dO6Z8QGKLKWiCOkLF3w0tkuzQpsKP38DzwuSEH6BIUt76h9kZxafY7AlqN6DRKjeuHXd0DY8MRSZpv6krJ_H1EsieOjjwJffS2ckLN00Tr6LKfnScqeKO/s400/September+2008+044.JPG" border="0" /><br /></p><p align="center">Remember the show Fraggle Rock? They live in our yard with the Whos!</p><p align="center"><br /> </p><p align="center"></p>Brooke Brookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10559160759907149362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167035867774120899.post-83306932686381794072008-09-21T10:10:00.000-07:002008-09-21T10:53:42.427-07:00An Ode to Fall in the Valley<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248533400155364882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0j-GHzySBdGt2843j4d5mTLoVMBCytuLGJ_ksUdGnJfguqGXsbHLwNjK4n0s4OHekGnvBo6OnTwtwEHySTKyn_ewlv28WWr5Qf32X22GlLs-A5qlnxm9YMA8g9pt83UJBXN4JwfD12GHD/s400/autumn1.jpg" border="0" /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Yes we</span> officially live in the valley, despite my constant use of the word "like" before every declarative sentence I can't figure out why people know automatically when meeting our family that we MUST be from the valley. Not that living in the valley is a bad thing at all, despite the constant settling of pollen from a million trees in the hills surrounding us, or the dust and hay kicked up by the local farmers and their giant tractors constantly creating plumes of who knows what, my kids like to call them "dirt tornados". Aside from pollen, dirt and my red-itchy sandfilled eyes begging me to move to higher, dryer land, I still love where we live. The beautiful countryside is surrounded by green, green and more green, hills of towering douglas fir and grand oak trees, and a quiltlike colored picture of vineyards, pastures and 3rd generation farmland. As September moves in to October there is an golden orange that begins to sweep over the valley, birds are constantly discussing what warm southern place they are going to visit this winter, and the smell in the air is a cool rush of greening grass, wet leaves and a hint of spice. I am NOT a winter girl, in fact I would be happy 24/7 living in a world with the sun and temp. at a nice 85' all the time, but I am quickly learning that I love the crisp freshness that fall brings, and with it I always remember that God created warm apple pie for a reason.<br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248533625082725634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 124px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 123px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="159" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlArB8tON-JUj-x2GEmjiAurEQyfBpNwwck_n1KXskpugDkbldnJhYBJYh1n3wj7rM7vfBol4tCVenQX9tHeboyEHxbJ2jr4NO5s_dFZkjv5q47MyrLXqOlWHd041JNU22_6l9pq6h5uyc/s400/applepie1.jpg" width="111" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div>Brooke Brookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10559160759907149362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167035867774120899.post-35451952729084124192008-09-04T08:26:00.000-07:002008-09-04T16:05:56.862-07:00Laila's first ballet class<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDao6wdnltUncVUsM_O5g-i5FefiANHEDJJz9juzooxwCIXY8rvSMEzgO2LWes7CAr-c6iBwPW2XMIwV5bsWV6GLFd72oetIt9AZsTGy7AQApwdjtGm5ySfmI6PNd2mB3c-ctYHikXB-AQ/s1600-h/Laila's+ballet+010.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242255626834439554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDao6wdnltUncVUsM_O5g-i5FefiANHEDJJz9juzooxwCIXY8rvSMEzgO2LWes7CAr-c6iBwPW2XMIwV5bsWV6GLFd72oetIt9AZsTGy7AQApwdjtGm5ySfmI6PNd2mB3c-ctYHikXB-AQ/s400/Laila's+ballet+010.JPG" border="0" /></a> Laila was thrilled to see her friend Kya Kearns in her class<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjMPTfF1Val8Kao_IPTlmhRPIiNyFyTM9hl7umRlz4tYQtnzlQ2hGs3zjPiUwVMgX29qEEKgN1niT_SkMgQh0JgEWJj2j8cZ4tQqY8T4po1DJojwLjFZiFNTTzLAZBpJAQypMxYoL5fj6i/s1600-h/Laila's+ballet+014.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242196781382169218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjMPTfF1Val8Kao_IPTlmhRPIiNyFyTM9hl7umRlz4tYQtnzlQ2hGs3zjPiUwVMgX29qEEKgN1niT_SkMgQh0JgEWJj2j8cZ4tQqY8T4po1DJojwLjFZiFNTTzLAZBpJAQypMxYoL5fj6i/s400/Laila's+ballet+014.JPG" border="0" /></a> Some serious ballet reading<br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpdtkv9u03xmW5DLKVmlmUdiHD0z22ruJwYjwafx9bC7a633WaP0ZSGHBzY5Nm5-nJwpArbpCk7iMGzxbTjtEUZcc2hACojyH0tY5VtXrbnkBNXFx2hxxtyExGOBKOgT5kyjhXj0CTwfC9/s1600-h/Laila's+ballet+009.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242190724483459650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpdtkv9u03xmW5DLKVmlmUdiHD0z22ruJwYjwafx9bC7a633WaP0ZSGHBzY5Nm5-nJwpArbpCk7iMGzxbTjtEUZcc2hACojyH0tY5VtXrbnkBNXFx2hxxtyExGOBKOgT5kyjhXj0CTwfC9/s400/Laila's+ballet+009.JPG" border="0" /></a>The instructors had no idea they were also teaching break dancing<br /><br /><div></div></div><br /></div>Brooke Brookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10559160759907149362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167035867774120899.post-31980520493625917472008-09-03T18:22:00.000-07:002008-09-03T19:25:30.232-07:00First Day's of School<div align="center"> So quickly the school year happens upon us and for some reason I always think our summer projects will be completed, the house painted, a few windows replaced, all the laundry washed, folded, and put away, and everything in its place by September 2nd, but to no avail there is a mounding Mt. Everest pile of clean laundry on the dresser, there is no way that the endless afternoons of purging through the girls polly pockets even put a dent in, there are chewed off barbie legs, arms and an occasional severed barbie head laying around thanks to Daniel's "special" dog Rosko. There are dust bunnies having their own coffee klatch in the four corners of our home and yet I can't help but feel that all those are just that- "things" none of them are as important as we are all guilty of thinking, and none of those things ever come before the excitement and anticipation of the first day of school for my girls. I am going to enjoy these moments and do my best to leave the dust bunnies to their espresso. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241979169626403938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz-OuJ0no504MS1wTRnh2BDrwYYc4KYbhW71qEqrmRfvNcNOTFmWzQPuKex8fOY9FOlPxp_1KcUAZar-omFZCDXAra5dTN3Tf0tF8au4DUwF1UO6mZOkiFlKEg5YbSYnkjNAlVr8RaXRSn/s400/first+day+of+school+016.JPG" border="0" /><strong>Kyia's First Day of 4th Grade</strong><br /><br /><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241986072131544082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV7bCJj0x90x-92cuzD9BPViQccMRthwnkF3ockUjaGX-ErkELyzD2XbTm868WbcURoGTkBJdTWDCVL60-KVo0mtn1qddpJBvD4SNV7MqmdroIxjxWh_-AMOwVUzae6CsOTfNhTrAU9Cx8/s400/Laila's+ballet+003.JPG" border="0" /></p></div><p align="center"><strong>Laila's first day of Pre-K</strong></p>Brooke Brookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10559160759907149362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167035867774120899.post-69086653519606018412008-09-02T09:40:00.000-07:002008-09-02T11:28:48.147-07:00Random Memories of Summer<div align="left">The common answer around here for the question "How was your summer?" is:<br />"It was too short", almost everyone asked that question has responded in some form of that answer. I think it is time to rally together and find a way to lengthen our summers and days of sunshine. (although for some reason my feeling is that might not be something we can control)-<br /></div><div align="center">But I can do my best to savor each warm sunny day and look forward to crisp fall mornings with a very big cup of coffee in my hands until the next summer.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><strong>Summer Kids-Kyia, Jackson, Laila & Aidan</strong><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241481342766963106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtGJU8sMHsA0o_AgO3W-W_J4Upr9fMFcCs92e9kjGwOiY3dE_L3mhHgsnQLEdfEK_W5bF3QiAwAT419_3ZR6BmEs2hP-zyUN1PBXLZ-YwkP34rvNHVNdJ97bMxWCtKuCKtcBmWF9eeEj74/s400/Laila+BD+008.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"><br /><strong>Laila always jumping right in</strong><br /></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241472690713437954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCLjKtDV8p1y6Vw3uQlGCBP3PSkFj7vAHIF9f_CT4Etm3NtAnszD7Ze5P017JuuuiTXHoV9b0CHrnUgia_6URT3ebylLjbA3pRBqwI98fkteWumhnb-t2bxGxUHWn4NrBvkcaSuphc-Upx/s400/laila+021.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><p align="center"><strong>Kyia closest attempt at being a farm girl<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241479097553620882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDxcUGbAVKA7etB2jh1gd7QJtgppTQ5ioPzIjrf7muEf_siO1sMCWM4Ql_AJJ9BuXQtA_ZdB-qiRGvSTUh46ha9L59sFQdkBfWNU7cQp1S_BLhwWfq7lwjHIusYhLQnobqmocF3HbbOH9y/s400/laila+081.JPG" border="0" /> </strong><strong>Little Bo Sheep</strong></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241485059956748642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQCuuvuZcM0yinwQ6Xcb_nTr59Fue3UcimBnzj_9eKWJzXB8BiL4Y_EX2sambxf3VZwaNRr4tBMr5tjNQLPXp2xQbSbanGGZ1VyBxEtpq1QIaS_B74zRPZPsJnVuvXDg1ib3GmBnLHWzqv/s400/laila+084.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div align="center"><strong>Contemplating the Giant waterslide at camp</strong></div><p><br /></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241486955725064930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWdbmQi2zGvBCPFz10LRB8nOG6gICHt3UbI5Ywcf6BGPXb17eTWRw0d5SC6Tpony5-i5SDJuX8B6PmE5kqkiXCEUkcWPLpwxgd3Tm6Zc59ylA84cPe4GvVERZiNuDLmKlVp5NYPEJ-UOWQ/s400/Tadmor+2008+058.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center"><strong></strong><strong>High ropes course at camp</p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241490059088314482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbCLLWpMX2PRsMvk9JdMgRWlXBz7AP_e84foQJoJWfQ0re1ciqBY6_KLqhWXG97Yf57m-wRHGlbKHE3SlfvcE1-1mLO8aCc91qaf5ktrowPoreHFaRFcpUklghYXac81jZ1VN9WOdRUlrN/s400/Tadmor+2008+089.JPG" border="0" /></strong> <p></p>Brooke Brookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10559160759907149362noreply@blogger.com0