<?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-5417588361302821528</id><updated>2011-04-21T20:43:30.974-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Introducing Mr &amp; Mrs Rick Rifley</title><subtitle type='html'>Rick Rifley &amp;amp; Yvette Strong of Fairbanks, Alaska are married.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rifleystrong.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417588361302821528/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rifleystrong.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Mr &amp;amp; Mrs Rifley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01227977928434431647</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_fAQLv01wKTY/R6ExMCG2uBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/1gNfPwkfaQ8/S220/IMG_0856-11.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>7</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417588361302821528.post-8676058678600297680</id><published>2008-08-31T18:00:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-08-31T18:18:02.257-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Update/ Invite!</title><content type='html'>Okay- so I know- it's been awhile... There has been so much going on that unfortunately this has not been the main priority. Quick explanation- my kiddos, Chelsey &amp;amp; Jordan, now live with me in Fairbanks- long story but I can tell those of you that want to know, later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway back to the matter at hand- The WEDDING! Aagh... So we are what 2 weeks out and boy is there a lot left to do. I sit on my bed at night with my honey &amp;amp; my kids watching T.V. and sewing beads onto my veil. The kids keep thinking it should be done by now and Rick, poor man, has dealt with my exasperation more than once as I toss the thing aside and say "Why do I need a stinking veil anyway?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are still working on making our music selections, I think there is someone willing to take picture for us, flowers- oh yeah flowers- I'll get to those. Really, it's not too bad just stuff to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realized in talking to some of you recently that you don't realize you are actually invited- so I've attempted to send everyone an "Evite" but for those of you I have missed I promise this blog link is your invite. Would I seriously send you this nonsense to read and then NOT invite you to the wedding??? If you have put up with these rantings of a mad woman then you are invited and bring someone along- why not the more the merrier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look, the way I see it, this is about Rick &amp;amp; I getting married. We have clothes to wear, rings to exchange, a license to make it legal, and a dear friend to officiate. Our children will be by our sides and at the end of the day Rick &amp;amp; Yvette will be husband and wife! This is about love, friendship, caring and the inclusion of all the people we love there with us as we embark on the continued journey we have begun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you guys and want you there. NO gifts, no fancy clothes, no "big deal"; just love &amp;amp; friendship that is all we ask.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I promise to try harder in the next week or two to update this regularly but if you have questions, comments or concerns just give us a call (907)456-2003. We can't wait to spend time with you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417588361302821528-8676058678600297680?l=rifleystrong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rifleystrong.blogspot.com/feeds/8676058678600297680/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5417588361302821528&amp;postID=8676058678600297680' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417588361302821528/posts/default/8676058678600297680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417588361302821528/posts/default/8676058678600297680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rifleystrong.blogspot.com/2008/08/update-invite.html' title='Update/ Invite!'/><author><name>Mr &amp;amp; Mrs Rifley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01227977928434431647</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_fAQLv01wKTY/R6ExMCG2uBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/1gNfPwkfaQ8/S220/IMG_0856-11.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417588361302821528.post-1718924264400522175</id><published>2008-03-23T15:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-23T16:19:04.549-08:00</updated><title type='text'>So Now What?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fAQLv01wKTY/R-bseZVNAQI/AAAAAAAAABM/zIPaz8tKjN8/s1600-h/IMG_9555.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181088428276384002" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fAQLv01wKTY/R-bseZVNAQI/AAAAAAAAABM/zIPaz8tKjN8/s320/IMG_9555.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Okay, so the dress is figured out- got the location (Angel Rock's and Twin Bears)- have the officiant (friend, Matt McClurg)- have the Maid of Honor (my baby girl, Chelsey)- have the Best Man (Rick's brother, Dan)- what else??? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh yeah, Rick's clothing (he's wearing Class A's)- but I'll let him tell you more about that endeavor, if he is so inclined... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As for me I've been working on decorations. Seems for a wedding that is to be held outside with a simple reception at a campground this should be an easy accomplishment, right? So I start looking through books and magazines to figure this out. Those of you that know me, know that this is not exactly an easy task for me, because crafty I am not. But I found these neat tissue paper ball things on a blog site and I thought cool- easy, cheap- what could go wrong here? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, first there is the interminable question of, oh yeah- colors! I hadn't thought about colors! I'm getting married outside and I have no wedding party to speak of and people can wear whatever they want. I mean really colors? But I guess if I'm going to make tissue paper ball decorations I need to pick some kind of color scheme or it will end up looking like a child's birthday party gone very bad!!  So I'm thinking why not go with the colors nature will be providing us that time of year, pretty fall colors in deep reds, golds, yellows, oranges and greens. Sounds beautiful doesn't it? Until you stop and think about Fairbanks, AK that time of year and realize that while it could be pretty yellow, golds and greens it could also be brown and dead decor or even better on a really rough year it could all be dusted in white, flaky stuff. Hum? What to do, what to do?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I dutifully ask my beau to be and Rick suggested blue &amp;amp; white for our "colors". By the way what are we a gang- we have "colors" now?  Unfortunately blue  &amp;amp; white makes me think of Hanukkah- which makes me think of his ex- then it makes me think of winter and snow (burr) and finally I have flash backs to the 80's and high school colors. So all in all the poor man got vetoed on that one pretty quickly. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So now I'm back to fall colors.  I'll quit my whining and just go with it.  That makes it time to tackle actually making one of these things to see it I can figure it out. I have detailed instructions, it shouldn't be that difficult- cut, fold, wrap with wire, fan out tissue! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I head to the store to get tissue paper for experimentation. While walking briskly down the aisle I see a box with "my" tissue paper ball things displayed on the front. WAIT- beep, beep, beep (back up beeper) OH MY @#*! These things are made by none other than Martha Stewart! Okay, I seriously, right there in the middle of the store, contemplate ditching the whole idea. Yuck- Martha Stewart! But really I'm not crafty, these look easy and as established earlier they have to be cheap to make- maybe I can get over the Martha thing.  I stop and really examine the box and wonder how hard can these be to make that they need to sell a kit- it's tissue paper for goodness sake! Then I look at the price and actually laugh out loud- they want almost $20.00 for a box of 4 of these things! Are you nuts? It's tissue paper- folded, cut and wire tied together! I'm sure even &lt;strong&gt;I&lt;/strong&gt; can do this without the help of a kit. So I buy a pack of tissue paper and home I go. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now sitting on my bed with sharp instrument, cutting board, tissue paper, thin wire and instructions I set about making a tissue paper ball. Let me just say- ugh! Seven tissue paper balls later with a variety of cuts, folds and tie techniques they still look like nothing in the pictures I saw. WHY?!?! Poor Rick comes home from work and finds me sitting amongst the paraphernalia of my afternoon. It looks like someone threw a ticker tape parade all over our bedroom and there are these ugly balls of what look like scrap paper on the bed with me. Sweet man offers to help and picks one up. He looks at me and says, "well it looked like they were scrunched up in the pictures" and he proceeds to scrunch/ball up one of the balls. I start laughing uncontrollably as now it looks like after the ticker tape parade someone opened gifts and threw the garbage on our bed as well! Little piles of discarded tissue paper- yeah!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But it's okay- we are not done and we will &lt;strong&gt;not&lt;/strong&gt; be defeated by the tissue paper- we will prevail! I'm not sure how- or when but we WILL WIN! For now it's time to move on to a different project- how about we tackle the homemade invitations?!?!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417588361302821528-1718924264400522175?l=rifleystrong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rifleystrong.blogspot.com/feeds/1718924264400522175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5417588361302821528&amp;postID=1718924264400522175' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417588361302821528/posts/default/1718924264400522175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417588361302821528/posts/default/1718924264400522175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rifleystrong.blogspot.com/2008/03/so-now-what.html' title='So Now What?'/><author><name>Mr &amp;amp; Mrs Rifley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01227977928434431647</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_fAQLv01wKTY/R6ExMCG2uBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/1gNfPwkfaQ8/S220/IMG_0856-11.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fAQLv01wKTY/R-bseZVNAQI/AAAAAAAAABM/zIPaz8tKjN8/s72-c/IMG_9555.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417588361302821528.post-395829822023845265</id><published>2008-02-17T16:23:00.000-09:00</published><updated>2008-02-17T20:13:17.753-09:00</updated><title type='text'>THE DRESS!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fAQLv01wKTY/R7j0vwiwTrI/AAAAAAAAABE/d8jTIEh3qwE/s1600-h/IMG_3468.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168149673729347250" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fAQLv01wKTY/R7j0vwiwTrI/AAAAAAAAABE/d8jTIEh3qwE/s320/IMG_3468.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay so I've spent 3 days trying to wrap my head around the events surrounding the dress and have finally decided that I'm just going to sit here and type and hope that my words can express the extent of emotion that surrounded the following events...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, my friends Sarah, Anna &amp;amp; I went out dress shopping as planned- great friends that they are- by the way thank you so much for your patience my dear friends!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to the first shop &amp;amp; I spent a majority of the time trying to figure out how it is that a human being is supposed to get into something with so many layers. Thank goodness Sarah &amp;amp; Anna were there or I may have been forever lost in a sea of crinoline, lace &amp;amp; satin- aaahhh! They lifted, tucked and gave plenty of advice on how to get the appropriate parts of me into the appropriate parts of the dresses- let's just say there was much bending over involved...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Interesting stuff at the first store but nothing worth "wowing" about. We head off to the second store- we have limited time together (Anna has to get Abby, her baby girl, - and truly I'm thinking -No let me get Abby and you do this- Pleaseeee) and we are going to this store in particular because I'm scared to go in there alone. The women are like the used car salesmen of wedding dresses- yikes! We stopped for drinks first (as well as Sarah's chili fix- don't ask) and by the way not the kind of drink I wanted to stop for at this point. After chugging some soda and Chai (and the chili) we venture into said "scary store." Would it be inapproproiate for me to use Sarah's words here? Oh well...- "It smells like ass in here." I have no idea what was happening in that store before we walked in but oh man- can we go now?!?!? Unfortunately, living in Fairbanks means you have to make some sacrifices- including stinky stores, so we proceed in. The dresses are all from an Asian country- as evidenced by tags I can't read- and if you haven't made the connection yet, not made in sizes this Spanish/ Native girl can fit into! Sarah looked way cute in one of the evening gowns she tried on and a dress she picked for me looked okay but not fabulous. And who wants to spend that kind of money on "not fabulous?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way did I mention that in my mind the entire adventure was a recon mission. I thought that if I could find out what looked good on then I could then go on-line to find a similar dress. This would then satisfy my "cheapness" by getting the dress for 1/4 of the price... I knew it would probably fall apart by the end of the day but it's not like I planned on wearing it again- right! So, no real luck at the stores with the girls- now off to Sarah's house for me to try on Anna's dress because did I mention I have some of the greatest friends EVER! Anna had suggested her dress as an option. WOW- what an amazing offer. So we opened the box and I tried on a beautiful chiffon dress- light, simple, elegant. Everything anyone who knows me would know is just my style. It's beautiful. But I can't help feeling the guilt of having to alter my dear friends dress- what about when Abby wants to get married in the dress her momma married her daddy in and I've changed it. Doesn't feel right- I can't handle the Catholic guilt... what to do, what to do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I head home feeling so loved yet weirdly guilty and decide to check out the remaining two stores in town. That's right all you non-Fairbanksans- there are all of 4 shops where one can buy a formal dress- like it or leave it. Stop number one afforded me similar pleasures as the last stop made with the girls- nothing that isn't labeled in some perverse fashion that makes normal sized women feel ENORMOUS! Okay, so I go to the last store in town really just so I can say I did and maybe to look at veil options. I'm there and thinking to myself, well girl this is it- the last time in your life that you will ever do this so why not have some fun with it?! Pretty soon I have, no lie, 15 dresses hanging in the fitting room- thank God the sales girl was too busy to notice me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first dress I try on is this strapless, beaded, fluffy thing I would never even think to pick up normally- wouldn't you know it- it's THE dress! I literally gasped when I put it on. All I could think was "I look like a Princess." I know, I've never wanted to look like a princess before- I don't know what's wrong with me?!?! But WOW, wow, wow! I had never felt so beautiful as at that moment- it was THE dress. Then cue up the dramatic music again please- I looked at the price tag... What!? was I thinking?!? I refuse to spend that kind on money on a dress, especially one that I will only wear once. And so the internal-external dialogue began.&lt;br /&gt;(oh by the way, I did try on the rest of the dresses and one of them was okay and a heck of a lot cheaper so maybe I could talk myself into that.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went home with this continued blathering of dialogue in my head- right thing to do, don't be ridiculous, it's one day, spend the money on... Finally I called Rick and told him about the dress and told him I needed him to see it on me. My thought being that if he saw it on that would be it- he could see what it would have looked like and I could move on with my normally practical side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Monday afternoon I drag Rick, Blayke, Payton &amp;amp; Wyatt to the shop to see THE dress on. Somewhere in the time between the first dress try on and this extended trip I had a nervous, hormonal, bridal breakdown. Tears, agony, distraught, misery, nashing of teeth- the whole nine yards. In retrospect, it was my pratical side and my dreamy side trying to come to some reasonable conclusion. Anyway, we went to the store and I gathered THE dress and the other okay/ much cheaper dress and tried them both on for Rick and the kids. Rick and the girls agreed THE dress looked beautiful. The other dress didn't score any points- so much for trying to go cheaper. We leave the store and I think to myself okay at least now he knows how I wanted to look for him on our wedding day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because really that was a &lt;strong&gt;huge&lt;/strong&gt; deal for me- &lt;strong&gt;I wanted to be so beautiful for the man I love&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;that he would never forget&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But anyway- internal/ external dialogue continued and bled over into my work life. For two days straight all I could talk about was how pretty this dress was and how I wished I could get over being so practical. My friends and co-workers gave me the stink-eye whenever I said I could never go for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Skip to Valentine's Day morning- my dear sweet love has yet again given me the gift of his time and love that can never be outdone by any other gift. He gave me this gift bag with DVD's, a t-shirt, a very perfect card but best of all a photo album. The album is full of pictues with captions for each one describing what love is and how these pictures depict our love. I can't help but take it to work and share it with my friends- what a keeper he is! All day I think about how much I love him and how I truly do not deserve this man. I am the luckiest woman alive!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I arrive home from work to find the house lit by candlelight, soft music playing and the wonderful smells of a lovingly prepared dinner. As I round the corner I see my perfect man standing there smiling at me and I know that my world is just right. We sit down to dinner and I find another card with my name on it. I am tempted to say "you shouldn't have" but I don't, I just open this sweet card. Inside of the card I find a hand written note that tells me that I "made this look so much more beautiful than this. I want you to feel like a princess on our wedding day!" Inside of the hand written note is a picture of THE dress! That's right- THE DRESS! Have you ever heard of the bride being given THE dress by her groom- on Valentine's Day?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How is it possible that after all this time I have found THE PERFECT MAN? I am the LUCKIEST girl alive! I have found someone who understands me, listens to me and genuinely cares about how I feel. He's my PERFECT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS- By the way he had already scored big points with the album- the dress shot him in orbit higher than the moon!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417588361302821528-395829822023845265?l=rifleystrong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rifleystrong.blogspot.com/feeds/395829822023845265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5417588361302821528&amp;postID=395829822023845265' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417588361302821528/posts/default/395829822023845265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417588361302821528/posts/default/395829822023845265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rifleystrong.blogspot.com/2008/02/dress.html' title='THE DRESS!!!'/><author><name>Mr &amp;amp; Mrs Rifley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01227977928434431647</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_fAQLv01wKTY/R6ExMCG2uBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/1gNfPwkfaQ8/S220/IMG_0856-11.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fAQLv01wKTY/R7j0vwiwTrI/AAAAAAAAABE/d8jTIEh3qwE/s72-c/IMG_3468.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417588361302821528.post-4468887722312724451</id><published>2008-02-06T16:47:00.000-09:00</published><updated>2008-02-06T16:59:31.292-09:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;What can I say? Isn't she GREAT?! Yvette did all the work on this blog so far. She's done a fabulous job too!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Twin Bears is ON! We've got the camp for the nights of the 11th, 12th and 13th with checkout on Sunday the 14th at noon. Some have said they would like to bring their campers and park them out there, please do. Anyone that wants to spend the weekend at the camp, hanging out, barbecuing, relaxing and enjoying a true Alaskan experience is welcome. We have the whole camp to ourselves so no one but the pesky bear and moose to bother us. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5164051850147051554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 157px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="130" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fAQLv01wKTY/R6plzCG2uCI/AAAAAAAAAA8/JdnigbKBj1Q/s320/Angel+Rocks+(54).JPG" width="163" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;For those of you who are not from Alaska, no need for bells or pepper spray. All that will do is let the bears know where you are and provide them with the added seasoning for their tasty treat. We'll have adequate high velocity lead protection on scene. Not to mention Ranger Matt and his picnic basket.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We are looking forward to a fun-filled weekend! #1 request - NO STRESS! This is being billed as a stress-free event, after the dress is picked of course, then no stress allowed, only fun, fun, fun...!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417588361302821528-4468887722312724451?l=rifleystrong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rifleystrong.blogspot.com/feeds/4468887722312724451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5417588361302821528&amp;postID=4468887722312724451' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417588361302821528/posts/default/4468887722312724451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417588361302821528/posts/default/4468887722312724451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rifleystrong.blogspot.com/2008/02/what-can-i-say-isnt-she-great-yvette.html' title=''/><author><name>Mr &amp;amp; Mrs Rifley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01227977928434431647</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_fAQLv01wKTY/R6ExMCG2uBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/1gNfPwkfaQ8/S220/IMG_0856-11.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fAQLv01wKTY/R6plzCG2uCI/AAAAAAAAAA8/JdnigbKBj1Q/s72-c/Angel+Rocks+(54).JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417588361302821528.post-536841825579817281</id><published>2008-02-05T15:30:00.000-09:00</published><updated>2008-02-05T15:39:57.085-09:00</updated><title type='text'>Dread...</title><content type='html'>So a few of my very dear girlfriends have agreed to go/ drag me "DRESS" shopping on Saturday... I can hear the dramatic music cueing up in the background, can't you?&lt;br /&gt;Someone please explain to me what in heavens name has persuaded women to buy into this idea that we should wear something closely resembling a large pile of whipped cream on what is traditionally touted as the "most important day of our lives?" I mean really- have you tried one of these ridiculous things on- at least since the age of 20?&lt;br /&gt;There is nothing and I mean nothing attractive about putting a woman who is "past her prime" into a puffy, fluffy, ornate WHITE article of clothing...&lt;br /&gt;Now having said that, I do have to say that with my dear friends in tow I believe it will be a fabulously entertaining afternoon of shopping madness. Thank goodness for them or I would never find a way- without wine- to make this a palatable experience. It is almost tempting to take a camera along for posterity and post some of the what promises to be an entertaining moment on this blog... what do you think?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417588361302821528-536841825579817281?l=rifleystrong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rifleystrong.blogspot.com/feeds/536841825579817281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5417588361302821528&amp;postID=536841825579817281' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417588361302821528/posts/default/536841825579817281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417588361302821528/posts/default/536841825579817281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rifleystrong.blogspot.com/2008/02/dread.html' title='Dread...'/><author><name>Mr &amp;amp; Mrs Rifley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01227977928434431647</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_fAQLv01wKTY/R6ExMCG2uBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/1gNfPwkfaQ8/S220/IMG_0856-11.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417588361302821528.post-2776676146803655801</id><published>2008-01-30T15:56:00.000-09:00</published><updated>2008-01-30T17:16:53.176-09:00</updated><title type='text'>So Tia Knows</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fAQLv01wKTY/R6EvbiG2t_I/AAAAAAAAAAo/Zyhtb0xCfnQ/s1600-h/Angel+Rocks+(137).JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5161458798001829874" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" height="215" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fAQLv01wKTY/R6EvbiG2t_I/AAAAAAAAAAo/Zyhtb0xCfnQ/s320/Angel+Rocks+(137).JPG" width="336" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fAQLv01wKTY/R6EnLSG2t-I/AAAAAAAAAAg/Nd78EOLwVEQ/s1600-h/Angel+Rocks+(121).JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5161449722735933410" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 116px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 70px" height="70" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fAQLv01wKTY/R6EnLSG2t-I/AAAAAAAAAAg/Nd78EOLwVEQ/s320/Angel+Rocks+(121).JPG" width="320" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;For those that are family you know what I mean when I say that Tia Maria knows... The phone call came in at 0700 with that fabulous high-pitched, totally heart-felt "Congratulations!" It's so much fun to have her as an Aunt-wow! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, another piece of the puzzle- we are aware that some people won't be able to make it and that's okay- we love you anyway ;) For those that are thinking about it we don't want any surprises for you. We have decided to be married at the top of our favorite hiking trail in town. The hike is called Angel Rocks- it is a 3.5 mile loop trail with an approximate elevation gain of 900 feet. We are getting married at about the 1.2 mile mark. Here is the DNR link for the map of the trail &lt;a href="http://www.dnr.state.ak.us/parks/units/chena/angelrocktrl.pdf"&gt;http://www.dnr.state.ak.us/parks/units/chena/angelrocktrl.pdf&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So obviously we understand if some of you think we are nuts and that you have no desire to walk up there with us... the upside is the reception is at a camp ground nearby called Twin Bears Camp. You can drive to this, it requires no hiking but it does require a sense of adventure. If you want to see what the camp grounds look like I've included a link to their website. &lt;a href="http://fairbanksrescuemission.org/tb/index.htm"&gt;http://fairbanksrescuemission.org/tb/index.htm&lt;/a&gt; There is water and electricity at the camp so it's not completely primitive. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We really hope that you will be comfortable in this very Alaskan setting and if you want to just come to the reception and skip the hike up- that's okay too!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;For those that want another perspective on the trail I found this really cute link about a 6th grade class that hiked up there in 2001-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.northstar.k12.ak.us/schools/awe/ARocks/arockshome.html"&gt;http://www.northstar.k12.ak.us/schools/awe/ARocks/arockshome.html&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;check it out if you want but realize weather can vary because the included picture at the top on the right is of September 3, 2007 and we were roasting...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.northstar.k12.ak.us/schools/awe/ARocks/arockshome.html"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417588361302821528-2776676146803655801?l=rifleystrong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rifleystrong.blogspot.com/feeds/2776676146803655801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5417588361302821528&amp;postID=2776676146803655801' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417588361302821528/posts/default/2776676146803655801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417588361302821528/posts/default/2776676146803655801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rifleystrong.blogspot.com/2008/01/so-tia-knows.html' title='So Tia Knows'/><author><name>Mr &amp;amp; Mrs Rifley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01227977928434431647</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_fAQLv01wKTY/R6ExMCG2uBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/1gNfPwkfaQ8/S220/IMG_0856-11.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fAQLv01wKTY/R6EvbiG2t_I/AAAAAAAAAAo/Zyhtb0xCfnQ/s72-c/Angel+Rocks+(137).JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417588361302821528.post-2214558825262222888</id><published>2008-01-29T15:52:00.000-09:00</published><updated>2008-01-29T15:54:08.659-09:00</updated><title type='text'>Yes it's true- even though I swore I would NEVER do it again!</title><content type='html'>So if you've gotten this far then you probably know we are getting MARRIED!!!! For those who don't remember the particulars the date is September 11, 2008- the location is Fairbanks Alaska (top of Angel Rocks to be exact)- dress is casual- theme is outdoor FUN!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417588361302821528-2214558825262222888?l=rifleystrong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rifleystrong.blogspot.com/feeds/2214558825262222888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5417588361302821528&amp;postID=2214558825262222888' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417588361302821528/posts/default/2214558825262222888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417588361302821528/posts/default/2214558825262222888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rifleystrong.blogspot.com/2008/01/yes-its-true-even-though-i-swore-i.html' title='Yes it&apos;s true- even though I swore I would NEVER do it again!'/><author><name>Mr &amp;amp; Mrs Rifley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01227977928434431647</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_fAQLv01wKTY/R6ExMCG2uBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/1gNfPwkfaQ8/S220/IMG_0856-11.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
