tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34264529987399837102024-03-13T01:32:59.356-06:00TASTES LIKE CHOCOLATEDelicious Treats
From Writers Young and OldRandi Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02140978758375164356noreply@blogger.comBlogger6125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3426452998739983710.post-75461826993265798932011-08-09T21:29:00.005-06:002011-08-09T22:56:51.960-06:00Loves of my Life- aka, my today's top 10!<span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span><span style="font-weight: bold;">My top ten list includes samples of student writing that were inspired by the book. These titles are in my bag as old standbys. I can whip one of these out and teach anything and everything a writer might need to know about writing. These titles inspire writers to envision their thinking on paper.
<br />Enjoy,
<br />Randi
<br /></span>
<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Table Where Rich People Sit</span>-Byrd Baylor
<br />When I wake up in the morning
<br />I can see
<br />I am rich.
<br />I walk over to my window,
<br />I hear the sweet birds singing
<br />I am rich.
<br />I go downstairs for breakfast,
<br />I see my mom and dad
<br />I am rich.
<br />I go to school,
<br />I have a lot to learn,
<br />I have nice teachers
<br />I am rich.
<br />I have my friends,
<br />I have my family
<br />I am rich.
<br />
<br />Abby
<br />age 7
<br /><span style="font-size:78%;">Tastes Like Chocolate, pg 64</span>
<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Abby captured the power of the repeating word.</span>
<br />
<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">All The Places To Love</span>-Patricia Maclachlan
<br />On the day I was born
<br />the rain fell outside the
<br />window, the thunder boomed
<br />like God’s clap, a rainbow
<br />bowed across the sky. The
<br />rain stopped, a bird chirped
<br />and my father picked me up.
<br />I lived in a small house. I
<br />caught bugs and let them go.
<br />I saw cottonwoods bloom and tried
<br />to catch the white fluff as they
<br />floated by and brushed my face.
<br />I drew small pictures and wrote
<br />crooked words.
<br />I went to school.
<br />I explored and I made friends.
<br />I walked places, did things
<br />and noticed. I sketched and became
<br />part of all my places to love.
<br />
<br />Today I drew a picture of the
<br />places I love and I remember all of
<br />the times before and my brother
<br />watches me and does his job of bothering
<br />me. I rode my bike tons of places,
<br />to school and everywhere, but then I went
<br />somewhere I shouldn’t go and my
<br />mom took my front wheel
<br />off my bike and hung it up
<br />high and I would stand in the garage
<br />staring up at it in the rafters longing and soon
<br />it would be back on my bike
<br />and I would be free to fly
<br />again. And I found that I could
<br />say stuff with my painting that there
<br />were no words for, and the colors could flow
<br />how I want them to. Control
<br />is a virtue in life and sometimes
<br />I can’t control, but the pain I can.
<br />
<br />Trevor
<br />age 12
<br /><span style="font-size:78%;">Tastes Like Chocolate, pg 48-49</span>
<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">After I closed All My places to Love, I softly said, Whatcha' thinking to my group of 5th and 6th graders.</span>
<br />
<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Tastes Like Chocolate</span>-Randi Allison
<br />Poetry tastes like chocolate.
<br />
<br />Ryan
<br />age 8
<br /><span style="font-size:78%;">Tastes Like Chocolate, pg 75</span>
<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Ryan is a severe needs kid. Ryan's writing inspired me to title my book, Tastes Like Chocolate</span>
<br />
<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Happy Blanket</span>-Tony Ross
<br />So Worn, So Soft
<br />Have you ever had a
<br />toy truck or doll you could
<br />never let go of? Or was
<br />it your blanket? I’ll tell
<br />you a secret if you
<br />promise not to tell. I
<br />still have my blanket.
<br />Even though it’s worn
<br />out, I still love to
<br />lay on it over my pillow
<br />at night and go to sleep.
<br />Even though it’s 11 years
<br />old, I still love to
<br />bring it downstairs
<br />with me on days when
<br />it’s cold and on days
<br />when I’m sick and
<br />can’t go to school.
<br />Even though it’s starting
<br />to rip and the fluff
<br />is coming out, I look
<br />at it through different
<br />eyes and dream of when
<br />it was new. Someday
<br />I know I’ll have to
<br />let go, but not today.
<br />Maybe tomorrow, maybe
<br />even never.
<br />
<br />Leah
<br />age 11
<br /><span style="font-size:78%;">Tastes Like Chocolate, pg 92</span>
<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Happy blanket by Tony Ross inspires kids of all ages to hold tight to their childhood.</span>
<br />
<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">A Writer</span>-M.B. Goffstein
<br />A writer is someone who
<br />waits on her couch for her story to catch.
<br />A writer is someone who
<br />walks on the beach looking for seashells that tell a
<br />story.
<br />A writer is someone who
<br />goes home to sit on her couch to write her story
<br />down.
<br />A writer is someone who
<br />waits again.
<br />
<br />Shawn
<br />age 7
<br /><span style="font-size:78%;">Tastes Like Chocolate, pg 109</span>
<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Who are you as a writer?</span>
<br />
<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Henry and Mudge and the Sparkle Days</span>-Cynthia Rylant
<br />snow,
<br />mountains of snow
<br />miles high
<br />a blanket of white
<br />covers the yard.
<br />I yell to my brother,
<br />“Last one out is a rotten egg!”
<br />He yells back,
<br />“First one out has to eat it!”
<br />I scurry up the stairs . . .
<br />pants,
<br />coats,
<br />gloves,
<br />hats,
<br />socks,
<br />boots.
<br />I’m the rotten egg!
<br />
<br />Mark
<br />age 11
<br /><span style="font-size:78%;">Tastes Like Chocolate, pg 113</span>
<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I have bundles of Henry and Mudge's in my book bag-along with Poppleton and Mr. Putter and Tabby. I can always rely upon Cynthia Rylant to inspire kids to think about their own lives.</span>
<br />
<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">If There Would Be No Light, poems from my heart</span>-Sahara Sunday Spain
<br />God Is Everywhere
<br />In the dark
<br />You
<br />are light.
<br />When pain is striking
<br />You
<br />beat it down.
<br />When I am not there
<br />You
<br />are everywhere.
<br />I love you God.
<br />
<br />Tanner
<br />age 9
<br /><span style="font-size:78%;">Tastes Like Chocolate, pg 121</span>
<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I shared some poetry from Sahara's book and asked kids to think about their light.</span>
<br />
<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Grandpa Loved</span>-Josephine Nobisso
<br />Grandpa,
<br />when will you teach me how to fish?
<br />Grandpa
<br />when can we go pick blackberries?
<br />Grandpa,
<br />will you tell me stories about the past?
<br />Grandpa,
<br />will you push me on the swing?
<br />Grandpa,
<br />will you ever leave me?
<br />
<br />Grandpa,
<br />you promised.
<br />
<br />Jennifer
<br />age 11
<br /><span style="font-size:78%;">Tastes Like Chocolate, pg 129</span>
<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Nobisso inspires students to write their deepest feelings about death. Her writng is melodic and Jennifer was able to capture melody writing about one of life's most difficult reconciliations...death.</span>
<br />
<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">My Stories by Hildy Calpurnia Rose</span>-Dale Gottlieb
<br />I lost my shiny blue rock at recess.
<br />I was sitting down on the wood,
<br />you know the wood by the rocks?
<br />My shiny blue rock was in my pocket.
<br />My friends, Alex and Sidney wanted to see it,
<br />so
<br />I took my shiny blue rock
<br />and
<br />put it in my lap.
<br />I stood up to play with Alex and Sidney
<br />and
<br />walked away.
<br />My rock,
<br />my shiny blue rock fell out of my lap
<br />and
<br />into all the other rocks.
<br />I didn’t even realize!
<br />This rock,
<br />this shiny blue rock,
<br />the one I chose
<br />to be my special rock for today,
<br />and now
<br />my shiny blue rock is
<br />gone,
<br />gone,
<br />gone!
<br />
<br />Morgan
<br />age 7
<br /><span style="font-size:78%;">Tastes Like Chocolate, pg. 37</span>
<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Honestly, when I share Hildy I think Hildy really wrote this piece. Gottlieb has given Hildy voice and Morgan has captured voice in her reflection</span>
<br />
<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Playing Sardines</span>-Beverly Major
<br />My sister is so sweet.
<br />She is like a little nut hanging from a tree,
<br />just hanging there
<br />waiting to be picked.
<br />
<br />Macey
<br />age 7
<br /><span style="font-size:78%;">Tastes Like Chocolate, pg. 79</span>
<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">...my friends are ready to play. We do waiting things like turning somersaults, climbing trees, hanging by our knees from the branches...
<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;">
<br /></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">So</span></span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"> there you have it, the loves of my life, my today's top ten!</span>
<br /></span></span></span></span></span>Randi Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02140978758375164356noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3426452998739983710.post-45802659174565619472011-07-06T09:52:00.002-06:002011-07-06T10:45:47.927-06:00ConferringRereading Allen's, Conferring The Keystone to Reader's Workshop, I am reminded of Patrick's 'early' days. The days of just beginning to think about the teacher-student relationship. Do you remember when you first became a teacher? You might have been a five year old teaching your younger sibling your new understanding of how to tie a shoe. Or maybe you just graduated from college holding your Education degree tight in your hand, finally able to breathe, thinking,'now' I am a teacher. Go back, do you remember your beginning reading conferences? I remember mine and Allen's. He sat behind his half table with his group of students, and I worked with another group out in the hall. Students read, we asked questions, i.e.; who is the main charactor, where does the story take place? This process of a conferencing didn't last very long! The conference was missing something, like missing the vanilla in a favorite cake recipe. The conferences were dry, no life, no breath. Patrick began to grow. He studied others, he practiced, he reflected upon his practice and he brought me along with him on this journey. Then we talked kids and now we continue to talk kids. One thing I know of Patrick is Patrick really wants to know what his students are thinking and to get at thinking Patrick waits for thinking. Patrick teaches like he fathers his four children and like his parenting has grown so has his teaching. Visitors come and the say, "I can't do this, and Patrick says,"Just begin." Allen teaches us the difference between conference and conferring. He teaches us about the power of mentorship. He teaches us to think deeply, which in today's educational climate, is not of great import from the beliefs of the powers that be. Patrick confers shoulder to shoulder to collect data, assess the data, and teach, over and over and over! Patrick respects every child as if he/she is his own. Student's can't escape his presence-students don't 'play' school in Patrick's room. Together students and teacher set the tone and expectation. Each student knows they are valued, knows that their thinking is the thinking that will change the world and often times one of the students is the teacher and Patrick is the student. As a teacher Patrick shares the stage with all learners. Patrick and I have traveled many miles through our careers together-from his humble half table conferences to his shoulder to shoulder conferring and all the 'ways' in between, Patrick is a mentor-model for me to continue to never stagnate, to hone my practice through talk with mentors, to continue to practice with students always in my forefront, and to have the confidence to stand up for my beliefs in all aspects of life-Randi Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02140978758375164356noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3426452998739983710.post-36753578973865481382011-06-23T08:00:00.000-06:002011-06-23T08:01:10.248-06:00ReflectionsRandi Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02140978758375164356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3426452998739983710.post-48689720978297064912011-03-22T19:24:00.009-06:002011-03-22T20:16:20.749-06:00March 22, 1993-A Life Circle<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis1ck3SeQeuIiVOXfyRndE1x21XewiYxZ9YpOOUrHbOwUZF58krTQuZPflVBGS_3WdZiqERR5uZMzYqd45oD0Sm-_MrpCgaxN3Yai3ZDpM7DtS1CCIVh0mAnKq5q9luiwMZ0LE5InpsCg/s1600/9780590615600.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 174px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis1ck3SeQeuIiVOXfyRndE1x21XewiYxZ9YpOOUrHbOwUZF58krTQuZPflVBGS_3WdZiqERR5uZMzYqd45oD0Sm-_MrpCgaxN3Yai3ZDpM7DtS1CCIVh0mAnKq5q9luiwMZ0LE5InpsCg/s200/9780590615600.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587089480197994578" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">3-22-1993<br />Dear Blab,<br /> Only Cynthia can say, "The whale emptied her songs into her baby." Only Cynthia can make me retrace my steps back twenty-one years ago. Back to the moments that were left behind in my forgotten places. To the moment of the first movement of life within me, back to the time when she, my first child, burst out of my body in a flood and into my arms. And now I am feeling the life of my first grandchild. I watch my child's body change and shift to </span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">accommodate</span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"> her child. I sneak peeks at her in between my knitting and purling as she rubs her billowing belly making contact with her unborn as she sits watching nothing on T.V.. Her hands caress her bulging abdomen. Sometimes she giggles when her baby makes contact from the inside out. She'll call, "Mom, Dad, feel this." My daughter never knows I've been spying on her, watching her as she bonds and loves her unknown. The purity of the love between mother and unborn child. Oneness.</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"> Thanks Cynthia,</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"> love,</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"> Randi</span><br /><br /> <span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51); font-style: italic;">3-22-2011</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51); font-style: italic;">Our 5th grandchild is now growing in my son's wife. Eighteen years later I am blessed to watch my son and daughter grow, caress, and bond with their 2nd child. I love that I have kept a Living Book for 20 years! </span></span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51); font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">Today revisiting my 2nd Living Book, February 16, 1993-June 17, 1993, </span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51); font-style: italic;"> I am able to connect a straight line and turn it into a life circle.</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><br /><br /></span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;"></span></span></span>Randi Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02140978758375164356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3426452998739983710.post-45918739071849769022011-02-13T18:17:00.013-07:002011-02-13T21:37:25.863-07:00"My writing today is someone's reading for tomorrow, my reading today is someone's writing from yesterday."<span style="font-size:78%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:100%;">For 19 years I often wonder why I write in a 200 page, no lines, artist tablet almost daily. Today I called my first granddaughter, Jordan, age 17 1/2 to share what I wrote 17 1/2 years ago when she was an embryo of 22 weeks swimming in her mother's womb. She cried and then thanked me for writing my feelings for her before she was born. </span></span></span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51); font-weight: bold;">2-14-1993</span> <span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51); font-weight: bold;"><br />Living Book #1</span> <span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51); font-weight: bold;"><br />12:30 p.m.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);">Jenn went and visited Stuart today. She had a 15 minute ultrasound. She just called to tell me her baby has everything-good lungs, a heartbeat of 150 BPM [good range is between 130-160] I remember reading somewhere that a fast heartbeat could be a girl. I know that's what Jenn wants. I think she will be happy with whatever she gets.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">It's a Miracle</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><br />I see<br />the baby's foot,<br />heart,<br />tummy,<br />femur,<br />spine,<br />brain<br />and all four quadrants.<br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"><br />It's a miracle</span><br />I see three sneezes<br />and<br />one thumb suck.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">It's a miracle</span><br />a wiggly little person<br />swimming around inside<br />my baby,<br />swimming here<br />and<br />swimming there,<br />twisting here<br />and<br />turning there.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Today,<br />I saw a miracle!</span><br />2-14-93<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Do you think you can use your Living Book to make the commonplace seem marvelous?</span></span><br /></div><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijF6zCWNIOm06OsbEkj18nEWeRDTcVN1_NkINXMq_FS5wZJTc6WN8Z0gYGauCtZgdAx2YThO_-EhRs7bj2DWZbl3ZIZ6j2GP0QRZ9aygg7sxdfIkMMBpSuBKmwDC8G1i0r48QCU1-z3_w/s1600/Jordan+U+of+A.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 242px; height: 194px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijF6zCWNIOm06OsbEkj18nEWeRDTcVN1_NkINXMq_FS5wZJTc6WN8Z0gYGauCtZgdAx2YThO_-EhRs7bj2DWZbl3ZIZ6j2GP0QRZ9aygg7sxdfIkMMBpSuBKmwDC8G1i0r48QCU1-z3_w/s200/Jordan+U+of+A.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573392129643788082" border="0" /></a>2010<br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">Jordan has been accepted to University of Arizona<br />She is waiting to hear from nine more Universities from around the country!<br /></span></div><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-weight: bold;">"My writing today is someone's reading for tomorrow, my reading today is someone's writing from yesterday."</span><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"> Randi Allison</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><br /></span>Randi Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02140978758375164356noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3426452998739983710.post-12672437642557209102011-02-07T16:55:00.011-07:002011-02-07T21:07:34.239-07:00A good place to begin is at the beginning...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkxyRKagNC1FLCwNvhnbkdcNE5cfAaucNokFDp80n0oRAHF2yERcSiEFrL5lmERLwg17KRjCXdy4UAdV4wD6eE_uNKBFtWUSs1Cxj9C4M5SUXvOKFAyj8wJPe03pdvVBWu8k8ev0H-OvI/s1600/photo+2.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkxyRKagNC1FLCwNvhnbkdcNE5cfAaucNokFDp80n0oRAHF2yERcSiEFrL5lmERLwg17KRjCXdy4UAdV4wD6eE_uNKBFtWUSs1Cxj9C4M5SUXvOKFAyj8wJPe03pdvVBWu8k8ev0H-OvI/s200/photo+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571111479548553458" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51); font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size:100%;">A good place for me to begin would be my beginning, which I suppose the beginning is a good place for most anyone to begin</span></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51); font-weight: bold;">...</span><a style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51); font-weight: bold;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2YwGClLjfyeRvRjZ6orG0hR8oEK2GUZLBlmBN_ml6VCjJvnSbFGkGCMB3nHVwYnoxLww1FnDBJAAk033RarmZ5GxfkhjEBKvKq0lvZcYUG5mopydycsElkOxM-danGPgIRQh4MAm180s/s1600/photo.jpg"><br /></a><br />July 8,1992<br />Dear Living Book #1,<br /><br /> Welcome #1! I'm not sure welcome to what, but together you and I will figure it out. Don at the summer institute said, "If it's not for us, it's not for them." I knew I wanted a place to house my thinking. I do know one thing though and that is I don't want you to be my journal-I've kept tons of journals and they don't sound like my living. Rereading the journals I've kept, I noticed that I write about waking up, what I did that day, and going to bed! BORING- My intent is for you to help me see my living through my writing, and not report my living, and hopefully, I will be able to tell the difference!<br /><div style="text-align: center;"> Love,<br /> Randi<br /></div><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><br /><br /><br />Today, February 7, 2011, almost 20 years later I have filled 43 Living Books-Yes 43! Today I unpacked all 43 from my file cabinets and surrounded myself in my life of the last 19 1/2 years. My writing has captured love, birth, death, friendship, poetry, thinking, learning, process, understanding...<br /> <br /> </span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2YwGClLjfyeRvRjZ6orG0hR8oEK2GUZLBlmBN_ml6VCjJvnSbFGkGCMB3nHVwYnoxLww1FnDBJAAk033RarmZ5GxfkhjEBKvKq0lvZcYUG5mopydycsElkOxM-danGPgIRQh4MAm180s/s1600/photo.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2YwGClLjfyeRvRjZ6orG0hR8oEK2GUZLBlmBN_ml6VCjJvnSbFGkGCMB3nHVwYnoxLww1FnDBJAAk033RarmZ5GxfkhjEBKvKq0lvZcYUG5mopydycsElkOxM-danGPgIRQh4MAm180s/s200/photo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571117345111160306" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /> </span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51); font-weight: bold;">Life,<br />my life,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51); font-weight: bold;"> welcome to it!</span><br /></div><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span></span>Randi Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02140978758375164356noreply@blogger.com0