<?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-9134057</id><updated>2011-06-16T19:57:13.150-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Take on The World</title><subtitle type='html'>A creative outlet in an attempt to write well.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>182</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-4331891038582399927</id><published>2008-12-14T16:42:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T17:02:25.550-05:00</updated><title type='text'>my mind</title><content type='html'>Freezing air hits my skin as turn over and burrow under the covers.  The power, and in turn the heat, have been out for two days. I am miserable.  My head hurts because my asthma is acting up.  The love of my life is fairing no better. Neither us wants to get up and yet we both want to leave our new home as soon as possible. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ice storm on Thursday has taken a toll on us.  We are not sleeping well.  Our dog, Shadow, is also feeling the affects of the cold.  He is up and down all night.  We have to watch him. Shadow had surgery Thursday and cannot move around excessively.  We cannot tell if he is cold or in pain or both as he moves around during the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We eventually leave the house for my finance's art studio where the heat and power are on.  We loaded our 92 pound lab in the back of the car with the baby/dog gate, dog bed, and sling for the knee operated on.    On the way we pick up coffee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I immediately slump to the floor of the studio once there; the dog and my coffee beside me.  David is painting but going slowly because he is worn out.  While painting, David suggests going to my mom's for the night.  We can't take another night at home without power.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a few hours in the studio, we load the dog and all his accessories back into the car and head north to Maine and my mom's house.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom's house is warm and warming to our exhausted minds and bodies.  We sink into her guest bed as if we have never been warm and comfortable before.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-4331891038582399927?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/4331891038582399927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=4331891038582399927&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/4331891038582399927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/4331891038582399927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2008/12/my-mind.html' title='my mind'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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-9134057.post-7818070147409298072</id><published>2007-07-31T14:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T08:21:09.204-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Crowd</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_69jTLC_B1ic/Rq-Y_LPucyI/AAAAAAAAACQ/qcOTY1lXPMk/s1600-h/DSC00327.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093457914697249570" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 285px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 212px" height="200" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_69jTLC_B1ic/Rq-Y_LPucyI/AAAAAAAAACQ/qcOTY1lXPMk/s320/DSC00327.JPG" width="271" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was finally there, three people deep from the stage, in room packed to capacity. Two thousand of us stood waiting expectantly turned towards the stage. Sweat was pouring off me in sheets. A feeling formed in the my stomach; dehydration mixed with caution. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A fight broke out three people over from me. More shoving from hightened male testosterone than actual punching. Security quickly stepped in and dragged a slightly ineberiated male away from the cause of his ire.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I turned to Tim, my concert friend. "Should we go towards the back? I'm dying from the heat." Tim and I immediately headed toward the back of the hall. I stopped at place with room to move and visability of the stage. Tim continued on to bar to order us water. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Band members appeared almost as soon as we stopped. The show of my beloved Social Distortion started. Elation soared through me. I began to move to songs I love. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tim appeared with the water. I gulped greedily. Tim yelled in my ear, "I am glad we moved back." as he nodded to the mosh pit forming in the center of the hall. I smiled back. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Social D and the audience continued, in tune with each other. Excitement, movement, and full fledged release pulsed through the room echoing from band to crowd and back again until the culmination of the show broke an hour later. Overhead lights came on and calm happiness settled over the crowd. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Some people left with marks from the experience. Tim and I saw two bloody nose hurry past at different points during the show. My bruised leg? The bruises came earlier in the day from hopping from one boat to another and missing the later.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-7818070147409298072?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/7818070147409298072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=7818070147409298072&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/7818070147409298072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/7818070147409298072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2007/07/crowd.html' title='The Crowd'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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/_69jTLC_B1ic/Rq-Y_LPucyI/AAAAAAAAACQ/qcOTY1lXPMk/s72-c/DSC00327.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-6052092888173442446</id><published>2007-05-29T12:17:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-08T11:33:09.385-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Seven Continued... the Book addition</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;This post has taken way too long, as you shall see, mainly because I have can't remember the names of the books I am reading or have read.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Memorial Day weekend was absolutely relaxing. Mom and I headed up the coast to Camden, Maine. Everyone should see Camden. The town is situated on a beautiful inlet. Three tall ships call Camden home during the summer. Hope everyone enjoyed the weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Book edition:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seven books I am "into". Books I am "into" is a little more tricky for me than music. There is no current list vs all time list. For &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;consistency&lt;/span&gt; sake, I am going to list books I like I have recently read.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) &lt;em&gt;"The Meaning of Night": &lt;/em&gt;Michael Cox. The story is a confession of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;obsession&lt;/span&gt; leading to murder. The setting is Victorian England enriched in shadows and aristocracy. The novel is written from the murderer's perspective; interesting in fact because the murderer is also the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;protagonist&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) &lt;em&gt;"The Stranger"&lt;/em&gt;: Albert Camus. Translation by Matthew Ward. Drenched in layers, the story follows the nondescript life of a man who life takes &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;extraordinary&lt;/span&gt; turns. The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;character's&lt;/span&gt; interaction or lack thereof with those around him have &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;significant&lt;/span&gt; consequences and is thought provoking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) "&lt;em&gt;Wide Sargasso Sea":&lt;/em&gt; Jeanne Rhys. A disturbing story about a woman who loses her identity to others around her, well written and engaging.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) I am reserving this spot for a book of poems I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;received&lt;/span&gt; recently. I love the poems but I can't remember the name of the book or the poet. Sad I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) "&lt;em&gt;The Dante Club"&lt;/em&gt; : Matthew Pearl. I have just started the novel and am engaged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) "&lt;em&gt;The Ailenist":&lt;/em&gt; Caleb Carr. I have recently reread The Ailenist. I love books which are not only pychological but have a historical context. I could only wish more books were as engaging.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7) &lt;em&gt;"Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows"&lt;/em&gt;: I am estatic with anticipation of the lastest and the last in the Potter series. I reread all JK Rowling's Potter novels three times; once when the book comes out, again when the movie comes out, and again before the next book in the series is published. I am sad The Deathly Hollows will be the only novel I will only read twice. How many books are you happy, or willing, to reread?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-6052092888173442446?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/6052092888173442446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=6052092888173442446&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/6052092888173442446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/6052092888173442446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2007/05/seven-continued-book-addition.html' title='Seven Continued... the Book addition'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-6930205180071350712</id><published>2007-05-22T11:59:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-25T11:32:26.956-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I am stealing, again, with a twist.  Seven Songs and Seven Books.</title><content type='html'>The name of the game is name 7 songs I am "into" and why. (I stole this from the lovely &lt;a href="http://www.noaccentyet.blogspot.com/"&gt;Tiff&lt;/a&gt;.) I am giving you a list of the songs I like currently and not an all time song list. I have decided to add books. We'll see if I take the books back at the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) &lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;Dan le Sac vs Scroobius Pip: "Thou Shall Always Kill".&lt;/span&gt; Even you don't like electronica or the monobeat of this song, the lyrics will have you laughing or nodding in recognition. Along the lines of Lazyboy "Underwear Goes Inside the Pants" with less serious social implications, the song lays out a larger view of some of mankind's silliness. My latest love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) &lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;David Bowie/Freddie Mercury: "Under Pressure".&lt;/span&gt; There was a time, a Vanilla Ice time, when I could not bear to hear this song without shuddering. I am glad I have the song back in my repertoire. I truly am in love with it. "Under Pressure" is a release for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) &lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;Jeff Buckley: "Hallelujah" by Leonard Cohen&lt;/span&gt;. I saw the biographical movie of Leonard Cohen's life. "Hallelujah" was one of the only songs I recognized. The man however is amazing. Everyone and their dog has done a version of this song. Jeff Buckley does one of my favorite renditions however. One of my favorite verses:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Well baby I've been here before&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I’ve seen this room and I've walked this floor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(You Know)I used to live alone before I knew ya &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;And I've seen your flag on the marble arch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;And Love is not a victory march &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The whole song is a set of strong eloquent but simple verses. I am moved every time I hear it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) &lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;Elvis Costello: "Oliver's Army", "Accidents Will Happen", "Tear off Your Own Head"&lt;/span&gt; and so many more. Elvis Costello has an array of songs which never become stale. I play the song which suits my current mood. The man is a genius.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) &lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;Magnapop: "Lay it Down".&lt;/span&gt; For me "Lay it Down" is a song to be played when I am overwhelmed or frustrated. When I play this song I want to make changes, realize the futility of things in the world I can't change, and recognize the consequences of my own actions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) &lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;Social Distortion: "Highway 101".&lt;/span&gt; A song to step on the pedal and drive faster. I remember driving in Southern Cal when I heard this song. I reaffirm something in me when I play the CD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7)&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt; Sam Cooke: "Twisting the Night Away".&lt;/span&gt; Do I really need to say anything about this song? The best 'just dance and forget everything' song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am going for eight because I realized I left out another favorite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8) &lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;Jack Johnson: "Banana Pancakes" or "Bubble Toes".&lt;/span&gt; Both are songs I relax to; I let everything go and smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Books will be part two.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-6930205180071350712?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/6930205180071350712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=6930205180071350712&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/6930205180071350712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/6930205180071350712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2007/05/i-am-stealing-again-with-twist-seven.html' title='I am stealing, again, with a twist.  Seven Songs and Seven Books.'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-3594011562283724860</id><published>2007-05-10T12:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-10T13:44:40.519-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Kids are Alright</title><content type='html'>I am a bit on the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;poky&lt;/span&gt; side after being in Atlanta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The best part about being Atlanta is my friends and my godchildren; S and A.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday night was probably the most thrilling. A... was the relief pitcher in his little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;league&lt;/span&gt; game. He kept the only two hits to the infield which resulted in outs and struck out a batter. The night could not have been happier. Sunday A... moved up to a yellow belt in karate and broke a board at the belt &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ceremony&lt;/span&gt;. Sunday, S... also opened her birthday presents from me. She was happy with them which made me happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday I spent with friends. Saw &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Invisible&lt;/span&gt; Saturday night. I like the movie but think the previews are misleading.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you remember dittos?  Wierd how the school language slips back to me.  Not copies. Copies are what I bring to a meeting.  Dittos are what a teacher hands you for homework.  A... recieves a lot of dittos.  Monday I helped him with his homework. Math believe it or not.  He's working on multiplication and division. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A... and I were working on a division problem.  I instructed A... to put a decimal down, and he said his class what not working on decimals yet.  I asked if A... if he wanted to impress his teacher and do decimals instead of putting the remainder.  "Nah", was my answer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I revel in moments like these.  Overall being with my friends give me a sense of peace making leaving difficult.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all, my friends and I, have changed; the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;fundamental&lt;/span&gt; part of ourselves remains the same.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-3594011562283724860?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/3594011562283724860/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=3594011562283724860&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/3594011562283724860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/3594011562283724860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2007/05/kids-are-alright.html' title='The Kids are Alright'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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-9134057.post-17106875517611390</id><published>2007-04-27T09:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T08:21:09.477-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Friday - blessed weekend</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_69jTLC_B1ic/RjIEayfPytI/AAAAAAAAABU/piLq0E3uFfU/s1600-h/my+bike.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058110189766429394" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_69jTLC_B1ic/RjIEayfPytI/AAAAAAAAABU/piLq0E3uFfU/s200/my+bike.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I got my new bike yesterday. Yeah I was supposed to get the bike last weekend, but I could not break away from a prior commitment to get to the bike shop before it closed. The bike shop is also closed on Sundays - weird, eh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now I have beautiful Cannondale Adventure 400 bike with odometer computer and water bottle connected. I have a blue and white helmet and pretty blue bike backpack. My backpack is a Camelback so I can drink and ride without having to use the water bottle. I am kinda wigged out by it. I am not planning any three to four hour rides yet. I planning on not crashing into people, children, cars, or trees and enjoying the freedom of riding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am in luv with my bicycle. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week has not been a great week for commuting. Too many accidents and bad ones at that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am looking forward to the glory and unbashed joy of the weekend. I am going to sleep late, take my climbers test and weather permitting -ride till my legs give out. I may make Banana Pancakes, ala the Jack Johnson, my current fav, song. I want the joy of life this weekend. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-17106875517611390?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/17106875517611390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=17106875517611390&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/17106875517611390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/17106875517611390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2007/04/friday-blessed-weekend.html' title='Friday - blessed weekend'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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/_69jTLC_B1ic/RjIEayfPytI/AAAAAAAAABU/piLq0E3uFfU/s72-c/my+bike.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-5022498187970843025</id><published>2007-04-24T11:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T08:21:09.675-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Climbing up that Hill</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_69jTLC_B1ic/Ri4vUMvQUdI/AAAAAAAAABM/-KYh_4pQVoo/s1600-h/rock+gym.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5057031455646962130" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_69jTLC_B1ic/Ri4vUMvQUdI/AAAAAAAAABM/-KYh_4pQVoo/s200/rock+gym.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;On Sunday, I took intro to Rock Climbing at the Boston Rock Gym. Loved it. I was the only one who signed up for Sunday. I ended up with a private lesson from 9:00 - 12:00. In fact, I had the gym to myself until about 10:30 when a group of kids arrived. Yes, there are kids who climb better than I, but hey they're kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(the picture is a wall at the Boston Rock Gym)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I climbed four walls and my muscles were dead tired at the end of it. I lost grip on the fifth and sixth climb. My instructor told me to take a break, get lunch, and come back. OK -a tendon in my right arm was not working. I was done. &lt;/p&gt;I am still feeling it today. Next step is a test to prove compentence to climb. Testing includes belaying, proving you can hold a climber who is falling or resting and equipment safety. I am going back for my test this weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On my way to work today, I saw a kid on my street jumping on a pogo stick. Remember pogo sticks? What struck me, is I could see myself as a child on my pogo stick. I don't often see myself when kids are playing, but today I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pogos haven't changed much since I had one when I was seven. Scary to think how technology could change a pogo stick. Can you imagine? Turbo charged, jet propelled? Propell Your Child to the Moon with the TURBO JET pogo stick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mainly I thought about the toys I needed at seven; my bike and my rollerskates. Combine those toys with a big neighborhood to play in and some good friends, what else does a kid need? A pogo stick- maybe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep thinking the world has changed for children; then I see pogo stick kid on my street and think maybe the world hasn't changed too much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-5022498187970843025?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/5022498187970843025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=5022498187970843025&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/5022498187970843025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/5022498187970843025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2007/04/climbing-up-that-hill.html' title='Climbing up that Hill'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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/_69jTLC_B1ic/Ri4vUMvQUdI/AAAAAAAAABM/-KYh_4pQVoo/s72-c/rock+gym.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-6260153150509445909</id><published>2007-04-19T09:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-19T11:45:19.237-05:00</updated><title type='text'>New things</title><content type='html'>Over the last few weeks my head has been buried in work at the expense of all other things.  Last night my head emerged from the sand through the excellent stress release of music.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was at the Guster show last night. Excellent show.  I have not been a huge Guster fan, but am a bigger one today. The band has an excellent sense of humor. I can't remember the last I heard really bad, or any, haiku at a rock show.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www2.blogger.com/www.myspace.com/theformat"&gt;The Format&lt;/a&gt; opened up for Guster. I will be adding these boys to my music library.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The show was sponsored by Stonyfield Farms, my favorite yogurt.  A lot of booths were set up spreading environmental awareness.  I think I signed everything available including volunteering for other like shows.  I am not sure how I'll be able to volunteer, but maybe I can find away.  Anyway...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another song I am in love with has been played rentlessly on &lt;a href="http://www.indie1031.fm/listenlive.php"&gt;Indie 101.3&lt;/a&gt;. If you haven't heard &lt;a href="http://www.myspace.com/danlesac"&gt;Dan Le Sac,&lt;/a&gt; you should.  Despite the name, :Thou Shalt Always Kill", the song is an irreverent look at music and anything in which you may have heard the word should being used.  I love irreverence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am well on my way to revamping my social and actvity life.  I will be buying a hybrid bicycle this weekend. No hybrid on bicycle does not mean electric.  Hybrid is trail and road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Woo hoo.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-6260153150509445909?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/6260153150509445909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=6260153150509445909&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/6260153150509445909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/6260153150509445909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2007/04/new-things.html' title='New things'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-2156028750095080583</id><published>2007-04-05T11:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T08:21:10.400-05:00</updated><title type='text'>From there to here</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_69jTLC_B1ic/RhUqJrUuTqI/AAAAAAAAABE/0ctWhgc1y64/s1600-h/snow.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5049988902902714018" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 257px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 159px" height="215" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_69jTLC_B1ic/RhUqJrUuTqI/AAAAAAAAABE/0ctWhgc1y64/s320/snow.jpg" width="312" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_69jTLC_B1ic/RhUmP7UuTnI/AAAAAAAAAAs/cehre7rY1xU/s1600-h/new+orleansB.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5049984612230385266" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 286px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 157px" height="170" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_69jTLC_B1ic/RhUmP7UuTnI/AAAAAAAAAAs/cehre7rY1xU/s320/new+orleansB.jpg" width="298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_69jTLC_B1ic/RhUqJrUuTqI/AAAAAAAAABE/0ctWhgc1y64/s1600-h/snow.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_69jTLC_B1ic/RhUqJrUuTqI/AAAAAAAAABE/0ctWhgc1y64/s1600-h/snow.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_69jTLC_B1ic/RhUqJrUuTqI/AAAAAAAAABE/0ctWhgc1y64/s1600-h/snow.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No wonder I have have a cold. (Picture on the left from vacation. The one on the right today.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vacation was wonderful. Flew into Pensacola. Two of my dearest friends, Danny and Aileen, picked me up and we went to the beach. Aileen played with Iris, their little girl, in the sand. Ian, their little boy, and I played the wave game; stand where the water line runs up on the sand and try and not let the waves get your feet wet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day we went into New Orleans. I love this city. Every time I visit I fall in love all over again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were the perfect tourists. Munched down beignets at Cafe du Monde. Wondered the French Quarter. Watched jazz musicians and jugglers. Went into several art galleries. I bought a painting outside St. Louis. Artists line the square. Sublime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day we wondered the streets of Mobile. I saw the Mardi Gras museum. Mobile hosts their own Mardi Gras parade every year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Relaxed the rest of the day and went to a movie that night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love you Danny and Aileen. &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_69jTLC_B1ic/RhUp9LUuTpI/AAAAAAAAAA8/gEH9QfZwYd0/s1600-h/Beignet.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5049988688154349202" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_69jTLC_B1ic/RhUp9LUuTpI/AAAAAAAAAA8/gEH9QfZwYd0/s320/Beignet.jpg" 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/9134057-2156028750095080583?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/2156028750095080583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=2156028750095080583&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/2156028750095080583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/2156028750095080583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2007/04/from-there-to-here.html' title='From there to here'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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/_69jTLC_B1ic/RhUqJrUuTqI/AAAAAAAAABE/0ctWhgc1y64/s72-c/snow.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-1700594602473677797</id><published>2007-03-23T14:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-23T15:03:40.927-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Merry Christmas</title><content type='html'>As pathetic as this may sound, I have finally finished my Christmas shopping... for Dec 2006.  And if I sound pathetic, keep in mind I will be getting gifts too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am off to see friends over the weekend in Mobile, AL I haven't seen since August.  We will trade Christmas gifts then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought in true spirit of Christmas I would wait until the very last minute.  Off to Borders I went and scored a very sweet box set.  Occasionally these friends read my posts. I am keeping hush on the particulars. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have a great weekend and um... Merry Christmas.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-1700594602473677797?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/1700594602473677797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=1700594602473677797&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/1700594602473677797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/1700594602473677797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2007/03/merry-christmas.html' title='Merry Christmas'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-5954647962336410933</id><published>2007-03-19T11:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-19T12:02:57.888-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hmmmm</title><content type='html'>I had a wonderful St. Patty's day.  My friend and I went to a party Saturday night.  We danced all night. (The living room doubled as a dance floor.) Well, I danced all night.  My friend was hanging out with his friends discussing God knows what.  I was happy dancing with my new friends on the dance floor while some of the guys were trying to figure out how the computer was connected into the stereo system. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you convince someone good manners dictates not to arrive at a party on time or early?  We were early enough our hostess had not put on her shoes yet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was driving home last week, I saw an a Ford Explorer with &lt;a href="http://www.mass.gov/dfwele/dle/"&gt;Environmental Police &lt;/a&gt;emblazoned on the side.  An oxymoron?  I tried to take a picture with my camera phone, truly I did, but I lost the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;vehicle&lt;/span&gt; in traffic.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-5954647962336410933?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/5954647962336410933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=5954647962336410933&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/5954647962336410933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/5954647962336410933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2007/03/hmmmm.html' title='Hmmmm'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-3517925936505833668</id><published>2007-03-15T14:13:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-15T14:13:34.132-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Joining the Group (Visual DNA)</title><content type='html'>&lt;embed allowScriptAccess="never" allowNetworking="internal"  enableJavaScript="false" src="http://dna.imagini.net/friends/swf/widget.swf"  quality="best" bgcolor="#770904" width="340"  height="240" name="widget" align="middle" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"  pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer"  flashvars="bgcolor=#770904&amp;i1=http://dna.imagini.net/i/RESIZE_7ABFFADA.jpeg&amp;c1=&amp;i2=http://dna.imagini.net/i/RESIZE_45782961.jpeg&amp;c2=&amp;i3=http://dna.imagini.net/i/RESIZE_-24AB72BD.jpeg&amp;c3=&amp;i4=http://dna.imagini.net/i/RESIZE_-28C6894B.jpeg&amp;c4=&amp;i5=http://dna.imagini.net/i/RESIZE_-177C0BDC.jpeg&amp;c5=&amp;i6=http://dna.imagini.net/i/RESIZE_-3A16A102.jpeg&amp;c6=&amp;i7=http://dna.imagini.net/i/RESIZE_-5BFB07FF.jpeg&amp;c7=&amp;i8=http://dna.imagini.net/i/RESIZE_2170B234.jpeg&amp;c8=&amp;i9=http://dna.imagini.net/i/RESIZE_631B702E.jpeg&amp;c9=&amp;i10=http://dna.imagini.net/i/RESIZE_-45A19707.jpeg&amp;c10=&amp;i11=http://dna.imagini.net/i/RESIZE_1F8FF9B4.jpeg&amp;c11=&amp;i12=http://dna.imagini.net/i/RESIZE_6C174175.jpeg&amp;c12=&amp;i13=http://dna.imagini.net/i/RESIZE_-1B4C950E.jpeg&amp;c13=&amp;moodlabel=WILD CAT&amp;lovelabel=LOVE BUG&amp;funlabel=ESCAPE ARTIST&amp;habitslabel=NEW WAVE PURITAN&amp;uid=90250-6657&amp;srv=iwebhd6" &gt;&lt;/embed&gt; &lt;div style="text-align:center; width:340px;height:25px;margin-top:0px; border-top:1px solid rgb(150,150,150);background-color:rgb(0,0,0);padding:5px 0 0 0; font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size:11px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://networking.imagini.blueorange.co.uk/vdna.php?uid=90250-6657&amp;srv=iwebhd6" style="color:rgb(255,255,255)"&gt;Read my VisualDNA&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10px;color:#cccccc"&gt;&amp;trade;&lt;/span&gt;     &lt;a href="http://dna.imagini.net/friends/" style="color:rgb(255,255,255) "&gt;Get your own VisualDNA&amp;trade;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-3517925936505833668?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/3517925936505833668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=3517925936505833668&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/3517925936505833668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/3517925936505833668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2007/03/joining-group-visual-dna.html' title='Joining the Group (Visual DNA)'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-2760227729751425438</id><published>2007-03-13T05:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T08:21:10.661-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dogsittin</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_69jTLC_B1ic/RfZ8YLpa0UI/AAAAAAAAAAY/zsgW-sn7ioo/s1600-h/piper.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5041353587773067586" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_69jTLC_B1ic/RfZ8YLpa0UI/AAAAAAAAAAY/zsgW-sn7ioo/s320/piper.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5041353665082478930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_69jTLC_B1ic/RfZ8crpa0VI/AAAAAAAAAAg/4pbzR_IhBmw/s320/riley.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I am &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;dog sitting&lt;/span&gt; this week for two cutie pies. (not awake yet - will continue later.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Later: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On Friday, I began &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;dog sitting&lt;/span&gt; the cuties you see above. The dogs live across town. In order to sit them, I'm staying in their house for a week. Kinda like a vacation but I still go to work everyday. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What I find &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;weird&lt;/span&gt; is how quickly I am settling into the a new routine; a routine revolving around the dogs. When I awake up in the morning, I automaticallylet the dogs out. I time leaving work in order to let the dogs out. (Somebody burst into song! "Who? Who?) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The dogs have a bedtime ritual. The dogs go upstairs about nine thirty at night. If I am not upstairs for bed by ten, one will come downstairs and look at me expectantly before returning upstairs. If I am still not upstairs in the ten minutes, one of the dogs, Piper, will bark. I thought my curfew days were over. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I checked with the owner to make sure I was not imagining the meanings of the dog's actions. I am not. The dogs have a curfew for the owners too. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-2760227729751425438?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/2760227729751425438/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=2760227729751425438&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/2760227729751425438'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/2760227729751425438'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2007/03/dogsittin.html' title='Dogsittin'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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/_69jTLC_B1ic/RfZ8YLpa0UI/AAAAAAAAAAY/zsgW-sn7ioo/s72-c/piper.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-7265722868126013199</id><published>2007-03-06T13:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-06T14:03:08.314-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Book Meme</title><content type='html'>Thanks, &lt;a href="http://sowritealready.blogspot.com/"&gt;Paperback Writer&lt;/a&gt; for the&lt;a href="http://www.unspace.net/2007/03/a-cool-book-meme"&gt; cool book meme!&lt;/a&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look at the list of books below.* Type "READ" beside the ones you've read.* Type "WANT TO" beside the ones you'd like to read.* Leave blank the ones that you aren't interested in.* Type "AGAIN AND AGAIN" beside the ones you could read again and again.* "Tried" for those books that you've tried to read...again and again. (This oneRob put in!)* "??" For those books you haven't heard of&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. The Da Vinci Code (Dan Brown) Read&lt;br /&gt;2. Pride and Prejudice (Jane Austen) Again and Again&lt;br /&gt;3. To Kill A Mockingbird (Harper Lee) Read&lt;br /&gt;4. Gone With The Wind (Margaret Mitchell) Tried&lt;br /&gt;5. The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King (Tolkien) Want to&lt;br /&gt;6. The Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring (Tolkien) Read&lt;br /&gt;7. The Lord of the Rings: Two Towers (Tolkien) Want to&lt;br /&gt;8. Anne of Green Gables (L.M. Montgomery) Read&lt;br /&gt;9. Outlander (Diana Gabaldon) Read&lt;br /&gt;10. A Fine Balance (Rohinton Mistry) ??&lt;br /&gt;11. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (Rowling) Again and again&lt;br /&gt;12. Angels and Demons (Dan Brown) Read&lt;br /&gt;13. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (Rowling) Again and again&lt;br /&gt;14. A Prayer for Owen Meany (John Irving) ??&lt;br /&gt;15. Memoirs of a Geisha (Arthur Golden) Read&lt;br /&gt;16. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (Rowling) Again and again&lt;br /&gt;17. Fall on Your Knees(Ann-Marie MacDonald) Want to&lt;br /&gt;18. The Stand (Stephen King)&lt;br /&gt;19. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban(Rowling) Again and again&lt;br /&gt;20. Jane Eyre (Charlotte Bronte) Read&lt;br /&gt;21. The Hobbit (Tolkien) Read&lt;br /&gt;22. The Catcher in the Rye (J.D. Salinger) Want to&lt;br /&gt;23. Little Women (Louisa May Alcott) Read&lt;br /&gt;24. The Lovely Bones (Alice Sebold) ??&lt;br /&gt;25. Life of Pi (Yann Martel) Want to&lt;br /&gt;26. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (Douglas Adams) Want to&lt;br /&gt;27. Wuthering Heights (Emily Bronte) Read&lt;br /&gt;28. The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe (C. S. Lewis) Again and again&lt;br /&gt;29. East of Eden (John Steinbeck)&lt;br /&gt;30. Tuesdays with Morrie(Mitch Albom)&lt;br /&gt;31. Dune (Frank Herbert)&lt;br /&gt;32. The Notebook (Nicholas Sparks) Read&lt;br /&gt;33. Atlas Shrugged (Ayn Rand) Read&lt;br /&gt;34. 1984 (Orwell) Want to&lt;br /&gt;35. The Mists of Avalon (Marion Zimmer Bradley) Want to&lt;br /&gt;36. The Pillars of the Earth (Ken Follett) ??&lt;br /&gt;37. The Power of One (Bryce Courtenay) Want to&lt;br /&gt;38. I Know This Much is True(Wally Lamb) Tried&lt;br /&gt;39. The Red Tent (Anita Diamant)&lt;br /&gt;40. The Alchemist (Paulo Coelho) Want to&lt;br /&gt;41. The Clan of the Cave Bear (Jean M. Auel) Tried&lt;br /&gt;42. The Kite Runner (Khaled Hosseini) Again and Again&lt;br /&gt;43. Confessions of a Shopaholic (Sophie Kinsella)&lt;br /&gt;44. The Five People You Meet In Heaven (Mitch Albom) Read&lt;br /&gt;45. Bible - Tried&lt;br /&gt;46. Anna Karenina (Tolstoy) Tried&lt;br /&gt;47. The Count of Monte Cristo (Alexandre Dumas) Again and Again&lt;br /&gt;48. Angela’s Ashes (Frank McCourt) Read&lt;br /&gt;49. The Grapes of Wrath (John Steinbeck) Want to&lt;br /&gt;50. She’s Come Undone (Wally Lamb)&lt;br /&gt;51. The Poisonwood Bible (Barbara Kingsolver) Want to&lt;br /&gt;52. A Tale of Two Cities (Dickens) Read&lt;br /&gt;53. Ender’s Game (Orson Scott Card) ??&lt;br /&gt;54. Great Expectations (Dickens) Read&lt;br /&gt;55. The Great Gatsby (Fitzgerald) Read&lt;br /&gt;56. The Stone Angel (Margaret Laurence) ??&lt;br /&gt;57. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (Rowling) Again and again&lt;br /&gt;58. The Thorn Birds (Colleen McCullough) Again and again&lt;br /&gt;59. The Handmaid’s Tale (Margaret Atwood) Want to&lt;br /&gt;60. The Time Traveller’s Wife (Audrew Niffenegger)&lt;br /&gt;61. Crime and Punishment (Fyodor Dostoyevsky) Tried&lt;br /&gt;62. The Fountainhead (Ayn Rand)&lt;br /&gt;63. War and Peace (Tolsoy) Tried&lt;br /&gt;64. Interview With The Vampire (Anne Rice) Read&lt;br /&gt;65. Fifth Business (Robertson Davis) ??&lt;br /&gt;66. One Hundred Years Of Solitude (Gabriel Garcia Marquez) Want to&lt;br /&gt;67. The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants (Ann Brashares)&lt;br /&gt;68. Catch-22 (Joseph Heller) Want to&lt;br /&gt;69. Les Miserables (Hugo) Tried and Want to&lt;br /&gt;70. The Little Prince (Antoine de Saint-Exupery) Read&lt;br /&gt;71. Bridget Jones’ Diary (Fielding) Read&lt;br /&gt;72. Love in the Time of Cholera (Marquez) Want to&lt;br /&gt;73. Shogun (James Clavell)&lt;br /&gt;74. The English Patient (Michael Ondaatje) Want to&lt;br /&gt;75. The Secret Garden (Frances Hodgson Burnett) Again and Again&lt;br /&gt;76. The Summer Tree (Guy Gavriel Kay)&lt;br /&gt;77. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (Betty Smith) Want to&lt;br /&gt;78. The World According To Garp (John Irving)&lt;br /&gt;79. The Diviners (Margaret Laurence) ??&lt;br /&gt;80. Charlotte’s Web (E.B. White) Again and again&lt;br /&gt;81. Not Wanted On The Voyage (Timothy Findley)&lt;br /&gt;82. Of Mice And Men (Steinbeck) Read&lt;br /&gt;83. Rebecca (Daphne DuMaurier) Want to&lt;br /&gt;84. Wizard’s First Rule (Terry Goodkind)&lt;br /&gt;85. Emma (Jane Austen) Again and again&lt;br /&gt;86. Watership Down(Richard Adams) Want to&lt;br /&gt;87. Brave New World (Aldous Huxley) Read&lt;br /&gt;88. The Stone Diaries (Carol Shields) ??&lt;br /&gt;89. Blindness (Jose Saramago) ??&lt;br /&gt;90. Kane and Abel (Jeffrey Archer)&lt;br /&gt;91. In The Skin Of A Lion (Ondaatje)??&lt;br /&gt;92. Lord of the Flies (Golding)&lt;br /&gt;93. The Good Earth(Pearl S. Buck) Want to&lt;br /&gt;94. The Secret Life of Bees (Sue Monk Kidd) Want to&lt;br /&gt;95. The Bourne Identity (Robert Ludlum)&lt;br /&gt;96. The Outsiders (S.E. Hinton) Again and again&lt;br /&gt;97. White Oleander (Janet Fitch)&lt;br /&gt;98. A Woman of Substance (Barbara Taylor Bradford)&lt;br /&gt;99. The Celestine Prophecy (James Redfield)&lt;br /&gt;100. Ulysses (James Joyce) Tried to&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-7265722868126013199?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/7265722868126013199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=7265722868126013199&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/7265722868126013199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/7265722868126013199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2007/03/book-meme.html' title='Book Meme'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-6844122776978433730</id><published>2007-03-05T15:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-05T16:40:45.219-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Weekend</title><content type='html'>Started out well enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend and I met for dinner and went to see a modern dance troupe. Sounds high brow, doesn't it? One of the dancers did a shadow dance to March of the Pigs by NIN. The coolest and best dance in the show.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My big girl bedroom set came on Saturday. I am smiling thinking about my stuff. Makes me want to dance, and I did when the delivery guys arrived. Had to wonder what they were thinking. I also had a new chair and funky pillows delivered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday was warm, read fifty degrees. While I am enthralled with my new stuff, I needed to go out into the sunshine. I walked around town and had fun. Bought smelly lavender paper drawer liners to keep my clothes smelling smelly. Went to dinner with another friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday I began the process of moving clothes into the drawers. I also sat in my new chair, read the paper, and finished a Game of Thrones by George Martin. Two friends recommenced the book over Labor Day. I put off reading it because the book was supposed to be Science Fiction. I am not much of a SciFi fan. Finally I picked it up and finished it. I would have been glad to move on to a new book, but oh no, George Martin writes in a series. Mr Martin left a cliff hanger at the end of the Game of Thrones. I purchased the sequel, A Clash of Kings, today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-6844122776978433730?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/6844122776978433730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=6844122776978433730&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/6844122776978433730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/6844122776978433730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2007/03/weekend.html' title='The Weekend'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-8682278268644376047</id><published>2007-02-28T12:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T08:21:13.680-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ice</title><content type='html'>When I first moved to Boston, I lived in apartment with one of my good friends. The apartment looked over a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;reservoir&lt;/span&gt;. I spent a lot of time studying the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;reservoir&lt;/span&gt; 'cause I had no money to do anything else. I was poor student.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I arrived in Boston on January 1, 1999. The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;reservoir&lt;/span&gt; was frozen solid. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Temperatures&lt;/span&gt; were between four and ten my entire first week. Over the following months before class, I noticed the ice would move and melt and then refreeze again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If this sounds a tad boring, give a Georgia girl a break. I had never seen any water so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;sizable&lt;/span&gt; frozen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am still fascinated by frozen lakes. A pond not too far from where I live now hosts skaters on the weekends when the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;temperatures&lt;/span&gt; fall and the ice will allow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_69jTLC_B1ic/ReW-G1MqYNI/AAAAAAAAAAM/GdOWX3sbKgo/s1600-h/ice.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5036640782852448466" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_69jTLC_B1ic/ReW-G1MqYNI/AAAAAAAAAAM/GdOWX3sbKgo/s320/ice.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For music lovers: check out this site: &lt;a href="http://www.hearya.com/2007/02/14/top-100-indie-songs-of-all-time"&gt;http://www.hearya.com/2007/02/14/top-100-indie-songs-of-all-time&lt;/a&gt; .... Hmmmm. I dispute some of the songs...  Thank you Paperback Writer for the link.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-8682278268644376047?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/8682278268644376047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=8682278268644376047&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/8682278268644376047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/8682278268644376047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2007/02/ice.html' title='Ice'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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/_69jTLC_B1ic/ReW-G1MqYNI/AAAAAAAAAAM/GdOWX3sbKgo/s72-c/ice.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-987831158032879984</id><published>2007-02-05T13:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-05T13:16:39.242-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mummies</title><content type='html'>Something about cleaning always seems to resurrect old memories. Some would say memories are like ghosts; they linger and sometimes haunt.  I prefer to think of memories as mummies.  Dust them off and the recollections arise, temporarily, again to walk the earth. Real and unencumbered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday morning I woke up late after being out with some friends the night before and decided to begin sorting through my junk closet.  My junk closet contains all manner of stuff; exercise stuff, albums, papers I decided I need for a reason which was clearer at some other time, off season clothes, and tons of notebooks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love to write. Even in elementary school I would write down my dreams and create stories in notebooks.  English and History were my favorite subjects; one, I could write or learn about writing, and the other, I could hear stories.    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mysteries have always been my preferred genre; the turns and twists, looking for possible clues. The first story I remember writing was detective thriller.  I was eight and very proud of the way the detective hunted down the jewel thief; reviewing all the clues in the shower - the way I would think of plot lines. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still have the story. I have kept it with a bazillion other notebooks and journals. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found eighty pages of historical fiction and thirty pages of a CIA mystery. Both started about eight years ago and yet to be finished. I flipped through them reminiscing the countless hours I'd sit at a bar stool writing while Maria, my best friend, was tending bar. Mummies. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd always ask Maria’s opinion about what I was working on.  She’d flood me the possibilities in which path the story could take. I’d pick one, maybe incorporate two or three, and start writing again until the bar closed for the night.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The hours I engaged in writing, crafting are non-existent in my day now, but I see the joy of pen (yes, I said pen) in hand scrawling out ideas and plots and elementary poems.   I hated typing them out later on the computer.  Now I rather type than write even though I miss the feel of calluses on the inner part of my index finger and thumb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe my junk room should be renamed as the "remembrance closet"; remember to finish, sentimental memories; cleaning memories… Maybe this is why I have a junk closet because I like watching mummies arise and walk.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-987831158032879984?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/987831158032879984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=987831158032879984&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/987831158032879984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/987831158032879984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2007/02/mummies.html' title='Mummies'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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-9134057.post-318122386576470194</id><published>2007-01-29T14:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-29T14:54:58.625-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Cleansed</title><content type='html'>I finished the &lt;em&gt;Cleanse.&lt;/em&gt;  I have learned many things about myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will not kill anyone for chocolate.  The thought only crossed my mind during the first three days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was a habitual coffee drinker.  Decaf Vanilla Chai is my new baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do know how to cook.  I have prepared many meals over the past few weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I actually feel better without sugar and caffeine through out the day.  Prior to the cleanse, this statement was a vicious rumor. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My energy and strength levels have gone up. I can do more at the gym.  Watch me jinx myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no idea how to maintenance is going to work.  Friday is dinner and drinks night with friends, emphasis on the drinks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cleanse did not interfere with my ability to write- work did.  Working on writing more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-318122386576470194?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/318122386576470194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=318122386576470194&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/318122386576470194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/318122386576470194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2007/01/cleansed.html' title='Cleansed'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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-9134057.post-116894420679703253</id><published>2007-01-16T05:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-16T06:13:46.246-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Weekend off</title><content type='html'>Last week was hectic. At work I am in the middle of a reorg and all that goes along with it; meeting my new boss; working with new personalities... Just could not goof off and post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In light of last week and the four weeks prior of never having personal time to relax, I did absolutely nothing this weekend. I had three glorious days to be bummful. (I did rearrange my living room, but I was getting ansy doing nothing.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A box full of my grandmother's letters, written by my grandfather, arrived last week. I need to open and find a place to store them. I am not sure if I am ready to read them. I read some of their love letters in December and cried. I don't think I am ready to go there again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The box has some papers in it declaring the end of WWII and President Kennedy's assassination in the Saturday Evening Post; the picture by Norman Rockwell. I am not sure what to do with these. I know they must be preserved somehow. I guess plastic sleeves?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ads are funky: Ribs in a Can, Old Grand-Dad 100 Proof Bourbon. &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4677/652/1600/95505/Ribs%20in%20a%20Can.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4677/652/200/82451/Ribs%20in%20a%20Can.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4677/652/200/875812/Old%20Grand%20Dad.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For now, I am putting the papers back in the box.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-116894420679703253?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/116894420679703253/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=116894420679703253&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/116894420679703253'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/116894420679703253'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2007/01/weekend-off.html' title='A Weekend off'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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-9134057.post-116784986732771303</id><published>2007-01-03T13:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-03T15:41:33.180-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Resolutions</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4677/652/1600/934948/mm.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4677/652/320/789722/mm.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't have any resolutions this year. I really haven't thought about them until I read &lt;a href="http://kaplyinc.blogspot.com/2006/12/post-444-what-will-have-to-pass-as-my.html"&gt;Kaply&lt;/a&gt; Monday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About a month ago my coworker and I decided to go on a &lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.thorne.com/media/patient_guide.pdf"&gt;cleanse diet&lt;/a&gt;. Good for your liver, etc... Since there was no way we'd accomplish what we'd need to with the holidays coming up; we put the diet off until after the New Year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clincher: &lt;strong&gt;No Coffee. No chocolate&lt;/strong&gt;. Expect major whining from me over the next three weeks, how long the diet lasts. Not having any chocolate is going to be the killer. I feel it. I've gone without coffee, but.... &lt;em&gt;YIKES!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week, I am gearing myself up for the next three. I have cut myself down to a cup of coffee a day. I haven't succeeded without the chocolate yet. How do you cut down on MM's? One handful from two? Sigh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="www.thorne.com/media/patient_guide.pdf"&gt;Tiff&lt;/a&gt; is in a race to lose thirty five pounds. I'll think about losing weight after I get through the next three weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you think I'll have any friends left when I am through?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-116784986732771303?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/116784986732771303/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=116784986732771303&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/116784986732771303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/116784986732771303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2007/01/resolutions.html' title='Resolutions'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-116776089778774903</id><published>2007-01-02T12:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-02T16:14:13.980-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Not as Planned or my version of Blizzard 2, Denver.</title><content type='html'>My plan, this Christmas, was to spend a quiet fun holiday with my mom, aunt, and uncle in Raton, NM. My aunt Jean and uncle Omer were to pick up my mom and I at Denver airport and drive three hours to Raton.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I arrived on Christmas Eve planning on meeting Jean and Omer at baggage claim. My mom was to be an hour behind me. As I was waiting for my luggage, my aunt phoned to let me know mom's flight was canceled because of mechanical difficulties. She was booked on another flight two days later because Denver's airport was still catching up on flights; in other words, all Denver flights were booked because of Blizzard 1.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4677/652/1600/587824/Rockies%202.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 307px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 197px" height="214" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4677/652/320/530928/Rockies%202.jpg" width="314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jean and Omer booked a room at a hotel near the airport where I met them. We spent Christmas driving around the Rockies and having fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day we spent in downtown Denver looking at different shops.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We picked Mom and made the trip to Raton. The next morning we had Christmas and then wondered around the town.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4677/652/1600/699006/Blizz%202.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4677/652/1600/46423/Blizz%202.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" height="182" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4677/652/320/400680/Blizz%202.jpg" width="319" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Omer had two appointments in Pueblo Thursday morning. We decided to drive on into Denver and stay at a hotel in order for me to make my morning flight the following day. Blizzard 2 was coming in and I wanted to be in a position to make any flight home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The drive was increasingly difficult from Pueblo. White out conditions began to set in. In Colorado Springs I took over the driving. Colorado interstate signs warned chain laws were in effect, commercial vehicles are required to put chains on their tires. Many semis were stopped in the middle of the road on Monument Hill putting on chains. (At one point I asked my aunt to yell out the window to a trucker, " &lt;em&gt;What is up with you people? Put your chains on&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;u&gt;on the side of the road&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/em&gt;." Jean refused my request for some reason. Shrug.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got into Denver eight hours later. My flight the next morning was canceled, but American booked me on an afternoon flight when a lull in the storm was forecasted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day my flight was delayed two hours. My mom flew out an hour earlier than I did. My aunt was stuck in Trinidad, CO for three days, 17 miles away from her home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though I spent more time in Denver than Raton, the holidays were fun and spent with some of the people I love most.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-116776089778774903?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/116776089778774903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=116776089778774903&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/116776089778774903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/116776089778774903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2007/01/not-as-planned-or-my-version-of.html' title='Not as Planned or my version of Blizzard 2, Denver.'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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-9134057.post-116664743652435437</id><published>2006-12-20T15:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-21T17:20:32.126-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Flat out</title><content type='html'>Tis the season and I am flat out. With my journeys to Shreveport over the last three weeks, work and this holiday thing... shrug... can't keep up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go see &lt;a href="http://kaplyinc.blogspot.com/"&gt;Tracy&lt;/a&gt; or &lt;a href="http://www.citizenofthemonth.com/"&gt;Neil&lt;/a&gt;. They are bursting with the spirit. I just don't have it in me yet. I am heading to lovely New Mexico for the holidays. My aunt has a house on the Colorado border. Hopefully I'll see a White Christmas and sing some Bing. Maybe learn to ski.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will quit my complaining, pack my bags, and be on my merry way. I may put in a Poetry Thursday post or let you know if I learned to fry hushpuppies ( another story for another time)/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Holidays; Hanukkah, Christmas, and Kwanza.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-116664743652435437?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/116664743652435437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=116664743652435437&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/116664743652435437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/116664743652435437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/12/flat-out.html' title='Flat out'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-116607274096166699</id><published>2006-12-14T00:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-14T06:57:33.726-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ponce de Leon (Poetry Thursday)</title><content type='html'>Will you tell me a story Ponce de Leon?&lt;br /&gt;Did you accomplish all you wanted?&lt;br /&gt;I sought the world too&lt;br /&gt;Our paths from there diverged&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I moved on from the place where I first knew your name&lt;br /&gt;Friends came with me for part of the way&lt;br /&gt;In the middle of the journey&lt;br /&gt;Curiosity had me questioning fundamentals&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On San Francisco Street we saw the mourners&lt;br /&gt;Gathered in one place moving in a haze&lt;br /&gt;We sat among them, separate still&lt;br /&gt;Anxious to move onward to the canyon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stopping to reassess what I have garnered&lt;br /&gt;Your old letters I sifted through&lt;br /&gt;To hear about the places you have been&lt;br /&gt;I held your hand trying to divine your thoughts&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Questioning the concept of faith&lt;br /&gt;I believe you searched for the wrong grail&lt;br /&gt;Along with your lessons, I have found&lt;br /&gt;Hope is the spring of rebirth&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;For Poetry Thursday, the assignment was to incorporate the streets names into a poetry journal of our travels. I decided one street would be my inspiration and another a landmark of where I had been.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-116607274096166699?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/116607274096166699/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=116607274096166699&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/116607274096166699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/116607274096166699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/12/ponce-de-leon-poetry-thursday.html' title='Ponce de Leon (Poetry Thursday)'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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-9134057.post-116552991552253835</id><published>2006-12-07T15:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-08T05:00:54.160-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Poetry Thursday -Cam's meme</title><content type='html'>1. The first poem I remember reading/hearing/reacting to was ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;Poem of the Road, Walt Whitman; Leave of Grass&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. I was forced to memorize (name of poem) in school and ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Some Shakespearan Sonnet. Don't remember which one. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;3. I read/don't read poetry because ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;I don't buy a lot of poetry books without a good reason. I like reading poetry, but I tend to read more fiction.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. A poem I'm likely to think about when asked about a favorite poem is ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;Not sure I have a favorite poem. Whitman is my favorite poet but I?s have a hard time picking a favorite.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. I&lt;u&gt; write&lt;/u&gt;/don't write poetry, ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;I write poetry to expression to my feelings and thoughts. Prose doesn't always allow me that outlet.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. My experience with reading poetry differs from my experience with reading other types of literature... &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;I digest poems I've read more than I do prose.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. I find poetry...&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt; &lt;em&gt;Beautiful&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;8. The last time I heard poetry &lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt; Last summer in a Maine Poetry reading&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. I think poetry is like &lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;... &lt;em&gt;songs taking flight.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-116552991552253835?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/116552991552253835/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=116552991552253835&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/116552991552253835'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/116552991552253835'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/12/poetry-thursday-cams-meme.html' title='Poetry Thursday -Cam&apos;s meme'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-116551279118736200</id><published>2006-12-07T12:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-08T04:57:59.960-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ontology</title><content type='html'>I am one&lt;br /&gt;I am all&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sum of my experiences&lt;br /&gt;All who have touched me&lt;br /&gt;Have I touched&lt;br /&gt;Simultaneously&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Memories live&lt;br /&gt;through the spheres of others&lt;br /&gt;A line no longer intersects&lt;br /&gt;Becoming parallel to those I used to know&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Intertwined&lt;br /&gt;celebration and transition&lt;br /&gt;Life and Death&lt;br /&gt;Both begin and continue&lt;br /&gt;A journey of one step&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am one&lt;br /&gt;I am all&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;For Mary Wineinger&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;1916-2006&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Beloved Grandmother&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-116551279118736200?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/116551279118736200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=116551279118736200&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/116551279118736200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/116551279118736200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/12/ontology.html' title='Ontology'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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-9134057.post-116404118137349550</id><published>2006-11-20T10:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-21T11:58:43.720-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Darndest Things</title><content type='html'>Being a single non-parent, I love talking to parents on the phone. I hear phrases I would &lt;em&gt;never &lt;/em&gt;hear otherwise, especially while a child is under going potty training.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maria: &lt;em&gt;Sloane! Did you just pee on the floor? You're sticky!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sloane: &lt;em&gt;No mama.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aileen: &lt;em&gt;Iris! Do not drink out of the toilet!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maria: &lt;em&gt;Sloane! Quit throwing the clean laundry in the air. Put the clothes down. I mean it. Now! &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and in the next breath&lt;em&gt;: Austin get down. You are not allowed to climb to the top of couch and jump off.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aileen: &lt;em&gt;I've got to go. Iris has to go to the bathroom and if I am not there it could get messy. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of the time the next sentence I hear is an apology from the parent saying he/she has to hang up. I am usually laughing too hard to reply, "&lt;em&gt;Just put the receiver down. I'll hold. I need the laugh&lt;/em&gt;." I love listening to the potty training years most of all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was looking forward to hearing some of these parent - kid exchanges in person. The last of my miles were expiring at the end of the December. I HAD to use them, and I did, last weekend. I went back to Atlanta! Turns out, these exchanges only happen on the phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My other goal for this trip was to complete my holiday shopping for the kids. Having completed &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/1600/mumbles.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/320/mumbles.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;the mission early Saturday, the kids, Maria, and I went to see &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Happy Feet&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. We left the theater with both kids tapping their feet through the movie parking lot, in Borders, and up the walkway at their house. Needless to say; great movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go Mumbles! You are my new hero.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-116404118137349550?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/116404118137349550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=116404118137349550&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/116404118137349550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/116404118137349550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/11/darndest-things.html' title='The Darndest Things'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-116369054417189063</id><published>2006-11-16T09:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-16T12:20:39.076-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Doo Doo</title><content type='html'>I got nothing this week to post except for the love of a dictionary. It's a slow week creatively.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week's Poetry Thursday is to create a poem out of obvious lies; the sky waxes green when the moon rises. I would have thought creating obvious lies would have sent my juices soaring. Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the way to work, I thought about no longer valid pop references such as Alex P. Keaton and the eternalness of other references like Spicoli. Sometimes I feel old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend once advised such thoughts, like feeling old, were poisonous and my thinking those thoughts were a contradiction. Maybe he thought those thoughts were a contradiction because I had only just showed him the saliva chewed crackers in my mouth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey, doesn't everyone like a little seefood?&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://poetrythursday.blogspot.com/"&gt;Poetry Thursday Poems&lt;/a&gt; to read this week:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://squaretraveler.blogspot.com/2006/11/poetry-thursday-liar-liar.html"&gt;Square Traveler&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://secondglass.blogspot.com/2006/11/poetry-thursday_15.html"&gt;RenKat&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.maddspace.com/"&gt;Madd&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually just hit the comments section.  All the entries this week are excellent.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-116369054417189063?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/116369054417189063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=116369054417189063&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/116369054417189063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/116369054417189063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/11/doo-doo.html' title='Doo Doo'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-116358633817796654</id><published>2006-11-15T04:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-15T12:42:58.606-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dictionary</title><content type='html'>After having a conversation about writing with &lt;a href="http://noaccentyet.blogspot.com/"&gt;Tiff&lt;/a&gt;, I realized I had not seen my dictionary in awhile. I think I left one of my favorite writing tools at a former job. And while the internet dictionary suffices, it does not produce the same neurotic fix I need from holding the definitive grail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a need with a bound dictionary around to look up words I know, peruse for words I don't, and investigate synonyms of words in the same alphabetical region. I have to come to believe only a hard copy of the dictionary can allay my word neurosis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, I left at lunch for the bookstore with the sole intention of picking up said dictionary and forgoing offers of lunch in the cafe. Once at Borders, I headed straight to the reference section, ignoring all the scrumptious temptations on display. Normally I am a Webster girl, but yesterday, I picked up the Oxford American Dictionary and Thesaurus. More than 200,000 definitions and 300,000 synonyms. How could I pass it up?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;True, I could have purchased a bigger, badder dictionary, but I have a small desk at home. Having a colossal version wouldn't be practical.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once back at work, I endured much teasing about my neurosis from coworkers:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"A dictionary! How exciting!"&lt;br /&gt;"You know Michelle there is this thing called the internet. I hear they have a dictionary."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, well, no snubs to &lt;a href="http://www.m-w.com/"&gt;http://www.m-w.com/&lt;/a&gt;, but I need the feel of pages in my hand. I feel better. How could I go without for so long?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-116358633817796654?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/116358633817796654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=116358633817796654&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/116358633817796654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/116358633817796654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/11/dictionary.html' title='Dictionary'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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-9134057.post-116306885168043254</id><published>2006-11-09T04:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-09T05:50:34.070-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Artists Date - Poetry Thursday</title><content type='html'>For Poetry Thursday, the assignment was to take ourselves on an artist date as described by Julia Cameron in The Artist's Way. The date to take yourself someplace and let your artist self take over. On this date, we needed to take a poetry snapshot of where the date happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On my date, I took myself to a Barnes and Noble located in an outdoor mall where music plays for the patrons walking outside. While sitting drinking my chai, I had a hard time describing the place as poetry. I began asking myself questions to induce an answer. What do I love about being in this Barnes and Noble? Why do I come here to write?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is what I came up with:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Bookstore&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Smell of autumn on my fingers is fading&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Dragging me into hibernation&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Moving me to ignore the world &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;until the sun can yet wake me again&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The sun finds my mind &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Illuminating my curiosity with Books &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Old wisdom and young idealists &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Bound in the pages, calling for a read&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Winter is coming &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The season is not a place holder &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;tiding you over til love breaks forth&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;In the season of birth, Spring &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Music energizes my body&lt;br /&gt;Move girl, move&lt;br /&gt;This world is not for the sleepy&lt;br /&gt;Find your rhythm and move &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Find the words and the movement &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The places calling for your attention&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Enjoy them all the more &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Reliving the experience in writing&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you haven't read The Artist's Way, I suggest it; a great book to jump start creative expression. I bought the book many years ago as a book on tape with a supplement that contained chapter exercises. I am going to dig the book up again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-116306885168043254?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/116306885168043254/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=116306885168043254&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/116306885168043254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/116306885168043254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/11/artists-date-poetry-thursday.html' title='Artists Date - Poetry Thursday'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-116290830765191513</id><published>2006-11-07T08:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-07T11:40:53.453-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Last Night</title><content type='html'>As I was driving home, I stared at the full moon rising over the eastern sky and contemplated the coming Winter, ballot questions, and football.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since moving to the Boston area, I realized I have learned more about football than I have ever wanted. Why? Boston is a sports lovers' paradise. This town is drenched in sports tradition. You can't help but learn about hockey, football, basketball, and, my own life love, baseball at a college, high school, and primary school level. Sports is every where.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was surprised to learn I admire Peyton Manning; one of the few quarterbacks in the NFL who can call his own plays- not something Brady does. I would never know the man's name if the Pats did not have a pre-game and post game in-depth analysis every week. (On Sunday, the Pats lost to the Colts, Manning's team, 27-20.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ballot questions for today's election?&lt;br /&gt;Question 1: Should stores that sell food to be eaten elsewhere be allowed to sell wine? (Right now only liquor stores can sell any alcohol which will be consumed elsewhere.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Question one has sparked much controversy and way too many ad campaigns for and against. What surprises me is neither side has offered up one fact or semi-truth to support their case.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My question, aside from my opinion, remained unanswered from the pundits: What are the socio-economic repercussions from answering yes or no?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhow the moon was my solace and winter inevitable.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-116290830765191513?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/116290830765191513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=116290830765191513&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/116290830765191513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/116290830765191513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/11/last-night.html' title='Last Night'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-116249091606222437</id><published>2006-11-02T12:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-02T16:30:05.830-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Poetry Thursday: Favorite Verses</title><content type='html'>Poetry Thursday's assignment this week is to put forth favorite verses.&lt;br /&gt;My hero Walt Whitman wrote many I love:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Of Life immense in passion, pulse, and power,&lt;br /&gt;Cheerful, for freest action form'd under the laws divine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;     From the first poem, &lt;em&gt;One's Self I Sing&lt;/em&gt;, in &lt;em&gt;Leaves of Grass&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;One's Self&lt;/em&gt; pulled me into &lt;em&gt;Leaves of Grass&lt;/em&gt;. I remember traveling in my twenties with no particular purpose other than the journey. Walt calls those travels back for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many songs also take me back in time to journeys of my life. Some physical. Some philosophical.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four of us traveled to see my friend Aileen graduate from University of Colorado at Boulder. On the way we stopped to see the Grand Canyon and Vegas. I was the night driver. My experience is limited by moonlight in many cases. However, I made up lyrics to &lt;em&gt;I Wanna Be Sedated&lt;/em&gt; while traveling along I70. Sang them while everyone else was asleep. (I am an only child. I know how to keep myself entertained.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been listening to Elvis lately; Costello that is. &lt;em&gt;Oliver's Army&lt;/em&gt; sticks with me more and more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My mind goes sleep walking &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;While I am putting the world to right&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For some reason I combine this verse with a Ramones' verse from &lt;em&gt;Do you remember Rock n Roll Radio? &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's the end of the 70s&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's the end of the century&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my head I end up with:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My mind goes sleep walking&lt;br /&gt;While I am putting the world to right&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's the end of the 70s&lt;br /&gt;It's the end of the century&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-116249091606222437?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/116249091606222437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=116249091606222437&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/116249091606222437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/116249091606222437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/11/poetry-thursday-favorite-verses.html' title='Poetry Thursday: Favorite Verses'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-116238203409065001</id><published>2006-11-01T06:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-01T18:58:04.266-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Run</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://wordsmithsunlimited.blogspot.com/"&gt;Wordsmiths Unlimited&lt;/a&gt; puts forth a challenge each month to write a story based on a picture. (My challenge is to get the picture to post. I'll fight with Blogger later.) Go check the incredible stories posted this month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Run&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, you run through first."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But I thought of this place."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, means you go first."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We'll go together."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, ok."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though we had an agreement and counted to three, I ran first; full out. My legs extended as far they could go, as quickly as they could go. I ran to the end of the chapel and ducked through the doorway. I turned to see Sam midway through the building. His legs, shorter than mine, were moving at a slower pace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seeing him behind me, I pushed through the small opening between the double doors leading back out to the open field. I laid down on the broken steps outside. Part of the field was encroaching on the steps, pushing up through the broken stones. From the where I lay between the top step and the next step down, the field stretched before me, then the trees an acre or so beyond, and peaking through the trees was the sun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old church was enclosed by natural boundaries. A river was at the left. The field and forest started at the right and merged at front. From the back, where we came was a trail through a wood leading back to our houses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the kids came here to play. The fields were overgrown and uncared for like the church. What lay beyond the trees was Indian country. Our folks promised any child a sound lashing who ventured into the forest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sam emerged a second later. I expected him to lie next to me, but he didn't. I could feel Sam standing behind me and hear his breathing, labored. I turned to look at him. Sam's face was pale and sweaty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Are you ok?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stood up and moved Sam into a sitting position. Studying his face I realized Sam was afraid. Sam was never afraid and seeing him so, I felt the beginning of fear creep up my spine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried to ask him questions about what he saw, but Sam wouldn't answer. His face grew paler even though his breathing became less shallow. Then I saw it, a small claw sticking out from the back of his head. Sam's thick hair covered much of the claw which could have been the reason I didn't see it at first. In honesty, I was too afraid to do much of survey of Sam. My attention was focused on the chapel. I expected something to come out to explain the fear before my eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew now I needed to get Sam home, but doing so meant going back into the chapel. I tried to be logical. I played here a thousand times. All the kids did. The fear had gripped my spine now and no amount of reasoning would shake it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I grabbed Sam's hand and pulled him up gathering what little courage I could. I didn't tell Sam what we were going to do but I knew he knew anyway. The run was only thirty feet. Should not take us more than a minute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We held hands fast, took a breath, and ran, right into a flurry of black wings.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-116238203409065001?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/116238203409065001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=116238203409065001&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/116238203409065001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/116238203409065001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/11/run.html' title='The Run'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-116222907699023561</id><published>2006-10-30T12:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-30T12:40:44.053-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fall Leaves</title><content type='html'>The fire trees are muted, a week now past.&lt;br /&gt;No longer does the bright yellow drift into ruby tops.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Nor'easter blew in Saturday.&lt;br /&gt;Gale force wind and rain left a toll.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The current aspect of leaves would make an impressionist proud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Studying the trees like a painting,&lt;br /&gt;from the outside, huddled in my jacket&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sunday 10/29/2006&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-116222907699023561?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/116222907699023561/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=116222907699023561&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/116222907699023561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/116222907699023561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/10/fall-leaves.html' title='Fall Leaves'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-116195659508444152</id><published>2006-10-27T08:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-27T09:38:13.910-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Clan of the Cave Bear</title><content type='html'>Last night at some point my power went off. I woke up during the middle of the night to gather more covers and huddle under them, oblivious to the reason why I was cold. I was not aware something was off until this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did not realize the power was out until I attempted two light switches. The house was frosty and too dark. I had hot water but no heat. No light from the clocks. I went through the house and lit candles in every room, bring several to congregate in what ever room I needed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The power outage reminded me how my instincts and nature change when autumn starts to give away to winter. Scientists will tell you man descended from apes. I disagree. My instincts tell my ancestry is from bears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When a cold wind blows and the sun begins to hide, I begin to wake later and later wanting the dawn to show its face before I think of showing mine. By December, I think only a flicker of warmth will move me grudgingly out of bed and house. Oh yes, my ancestors are bears.&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of Clan of Cave Bears : I will attempt the meme &lt;a href="http://cincysundevil.blogspot.com/"&gt;Cincy&lt;/a&gt; sent me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. One book that changed your life: &lt;u&gt;Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman&lt;/u&gt;. Walt was the first poet whose words captured me. I had never thought about poetry as an art form I'd like until I read his works. Rereading his poems years later, I realized I structure much of my own sentences and thoughts in verse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. One book that you've read more than once: This question is a little more difficult. Do I go completely feminine cliche and say &lt;u&gt;Pride and Prejudice- Jane Austen&lt;/u&gt;? I am enthralled with &lt;u&gt;Dumas' Count of Monte Cristo&lt;/u&gt;. Every time I move or undergo big changes in my life, I read &lt;u&gt;The&lt;/u&gt; &lt;u&gt;Chronicles of Narnia - C.S. Lewis&lt;/u&gt; and &lt;u&gt;A Wrinkle in Time - Madeline L'Engle&lt;/u&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. One book you'd want on a desert island: Does a notebook with a pack of pens count? If not, &lt;u&gt;Les Miserable - Victor Hugo&lt;/u&gt; because I keep meaning to read it and haven't yet or maybe &lt;u&gt;D.H. Lawrence's&lt;/u&gt; poetry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. One book that made you laugh: &lt;u&gt;The Secret of the Chimney's by Agatha Christy&lt;/u&gt;. Christy, in the novel, makes fun of herself, detective, and mysteries in a subtle. &lt;u&gt;The Sweet Potato Queen's Guide to Love&lt;/u&gt; had me laughing out loud on a plane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. One book that made you cry: &lt;u&gt;Harry Potter: The Order of the Phoenix- J.K. Rowling&lt;/u&gt;. Cheesy maybe, but I cried. &lt;u&gt;A Severed Wasp by L'Engle&lt;/u&gt;, one of her many adult books, immensely engaging and moving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. One book you wish had been written: Any of the short stories I've stopped and started. Ok reality. Any work by L'Engle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. One book you wish had never been written: &lt;u&gt;Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged&lt;/u&gt;. I skipped fifty pages of this book. The woman is repetitive in the extreme. I stopped caring about her characters seventy pages in under the weight of her exhaustive message. Only a friend's encouragement kept me reading through the end. I never would want to lecture my readers to death. Many people love her though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. One book you're currently reading: &lt;u&gt;Young Patriots by Charles Cerami. &lt;/u&gt;Non-fiction books take forever for me to get through. I've been at this book for two months. Last non-fiction book I read, seven years ago, was &lt;u&gt;Disraeli - Edgar J. Feuchtwanger&lt;/u&gt; and I am two thirds away from finishing. Sounds crazy but I love the Disraeli book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. One book you've been meaning to read: Too many to choose one. &lt;u&gt;Les Miserable by Hugo&lt;/u&gt; listed above.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-116195659508444152?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/116195659508444152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=116195659508444152&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/116195659508444152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/116195659508444152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/10/clan-of-cave-bear.html' title='Clan of the Cave Bear'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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-9134057.post-116170245189281528</id><published>2006-10-24T10:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-25T04:21:54.180-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't know why...</title><content type='html'>This &lt;a href="http://www.cbs47.com/news/state/story.aspx?content_id=fdd26e19-9a97-4857-88f8-8ebda24b5371&amp;rss=2"&gt;article&lt;/a&gt; struck me as hilarious. If you don't want to read it, I'll summarize. To avoid missing a flight, a man called in a bomb threat to delay the plane from taking off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His lawyer says, &lt;a href="http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/national/1110AP_Airport_Threat.html"&gt;"This was a momentary gross lapse in judgment." &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ya think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sends chuckles throughout my heart; sick I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does anyone know what type of thermos to buy that will keep liquids, coffee, hot and not make the liquid taste like aluminum?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-116170245189281528?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/116170245189281528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=116170245189281528&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/116170245189281528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/116170245189281528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/10/dont-know-why.html' title='Don&apos;t know why...'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-116100682617213144</id><published>2006-10-16T08:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-16T14:06:51.673-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Day the Music Place Died</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/1600/CBGB.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/200/CBGB.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/1600/CBGB3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/200/CBGB3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm in mourning. &lt;a href="http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20061016/ap_en_mu/music_cbgb_finale"&gt;CBGB closed its doors last night&lt;/a&gt;. (photos courtesy of yahoo.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-116100682617213144?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/116100682617213144/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=116100682617213144&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/116100682617213144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/116100682617213144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/10/day-music-place-died.html' title='The Day the Music Place Died'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-116057581899230151</id><published>2006-10-11T09:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-11T15:55:44.573-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Suicidal Squirrels</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/1600/squirrel.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/200/squirrel.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yup, it's that time of year again; leaves changing, temperatures dropping, and squirrels committing suicide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The travesty in the squirrel population is seen everywhere; deflated fur and guts in the middle of the road, on the side of the road, even on the sidewalks. The mass life exodus is a mournful time for those of us witnessing the squished little bodies along the highways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why would squirrels be so unhappy as to take their life. Squirrels have had a happy summer, languishing in the sun, stealing from bird feeders, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday on my way into work, a squirrel ran across five lanes of the interstate traffic without a scratch; one of the unluckiest suicide attempts ever witnessed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would say the demise in the squirrel population during the fall is one of nature's mysteries, much like the beaching of whales. Say a prayer for the suicidal squirrel whose poor body you pass next time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-116057581899230151?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/116057581899230151/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=116057581899230151&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/116057581899230151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/116057581899230151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/10/suicidal-squirrels.html' title='Suicidal Squirrels'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-115997350554308527</id><published>2006-10-04T09:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-05T09:15:40.913-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Stalking the Stalker</title><content type='html'>A former co-worker, Denis, recently revealed he had a stalker while at the workplace (my current one). After much questioning, I came to the conclusion the stalker Denis referred to was a girl who liked him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Denis sent me a recent email asking after his stalker. Below is my response.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Monday 10:00 am -&lt;/strong&gt; caught site of stalker in hallway. Plan was made to stalk the stalker.&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monday 10:01 am -&lt;/strong&gt; followed stalker. Heard sniffling. Stalker may be missing stalkee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Monday 10:02 am -&lt;/strong&gt; stalker sneezed. Stalker has allergies or a cold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Monday 10:02 am -&lt;/strong&gt; bored following stalker. Need new plan.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tuesday 10:00 am -&lt;/strong&gt; decided to take up smoking. Bought pack of Virginia Slims in attempt to fit in with smoking crowd and look feminine at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tuesday 10:01 am -&lt;/strong&gt; stalker spotted at smoking spot. Pulled out cigarettes and lit up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tuesday 10:01 am -&lt;/strong&gt; coughed up a lung and had asthma attacked. Sidelined and stalker lost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wednesday 9:42 am -&lt;/strong&gt; new plan in place and new time. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wednesday 9:43 am -&lt;/strong&gt; conferred with Carrieann (co-worker). Will place bug in stalker's phone. I will distract stalker and Carrieann will place bug in phone. (We think an ant will work)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plans for Thursday -&lt;/strong&gt; dress in black. Look up planting bugs on internet. Play Mission Impossible theme song while working (song on cell phone - so covered.) Report back to stalkee. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-115997350554308527?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/115997350554308527/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=115997350554308527&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115997350554308527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115997350554308527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/10/stalking-stalker.html' title='Stalking the Stalker'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-115893017829933374</id><published>2006-09-22T07:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-22T18:04:02.293-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Literacy Project</title><content type='html'>In an every increasing need to be literate, I have embarked on a new campaign; the Starbucks campaign. The company now places quotes, "The way I see it", on the back of their coffee cups as I discovered a &lt;a href="http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/08/fast-food-advice.html"&gt;couple of weeks ago&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today my cup has:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I think when we get angry at others, most of the time, we're really angry at ourselves. It is not "us verses them" - we are all connected. Perhaps the anger comes in how much of "us" we see in "them". Whether it is cutting someone off or taking more than one's share, perhaps we are angry at ourselves for doing similar things every day. In any case change will come when we stop pointing the finger and start looking in the mirror.&lt;/em&gt; Christina Morton- Starbucks shift supervisor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you think she's referring to customers?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am excited to learn all the quotes Starbucks uses on their cups of coffee. I am a little worried though. Starbucks is now quoting their own staff on the cups. Do you think they ran out of people to quote?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How many quotes do I need to read before I am well read?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-115893017829933374?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/115893017829933374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=115893017829933374&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115893017829933374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115893017829933374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/09/literacy-project.html' title='Literacy Project'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-115877009511375712</id><published>2006-09-20T08:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-20T11:34:55.256-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Primary</title><content type='html'>I went to the polls yesterday to vote in the Mass. primary elections and was disgusted by some of the experience. (To preface, let's just say that I believe voting is the most important action that anyone can undertake if you want to influence how local, state, and national governments are run.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First off I am listed as an independent. The woman who greeted me at the polls should ask me what ticket I want to vote on Republican or Democrat. She did neither. I asked the woman how I was listed. I am correctly listed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once I got to the voting booth, I noticed that the primary ticket had several offices where only one candidate was listed. Unopposed candidates irk me to no end. Why? An unopposed candidate is less likely to be held accountable for his actions. I am from the old school of believing that any elected official works for me because I help pay his salary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though I vote in a small town, the turnout was unbelievably low. I did not have to wait, as I normally do, for a booth. I was the only voter in the booths.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if our country is reaching a new level of apathy. Hope not.&lt;br /&gt;__________________________________&lt;br /&gt;A J Folmer storyupdate: She has hired a lawyer and will be fighting her charges in court.  I do not know if she plans to sue the police department.  If so, I will update you on the outcome.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-115877009511375712?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/115877009511375712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=115877009511375712&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115877009511375712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115877009511375712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/09/primary.html' title='Primary'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-3503842639832573231</id><published>2006-09-13T08:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-26T08:10:02.705-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Chronology of My Arrest - Post taken down</title><content type='html'>I had a post here I rec'd by email.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought the account interesting and remarkable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried to take out any identifying markers in the story while still giving full credit to the author. But I broke a rule. I did not get permission to post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sorry J. Folmer and I have taken your post down.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-3503842639832573231?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/3503842639832573231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=3503842639832573231&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/3503842639832573231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/3503842639832573231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/09/post-taken-down.html' title='The Chronology of My Arrest - Post taken down'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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-9134057.post-115808015370424447</id><published>2006-09-12T11:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-12T11:55:56.326-05:00</updated><title type='text'>For the Love of the Lima Bean</title><content type='html'>You know the days when you are starving? You can't wait till you ingest something? Anything? And then ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..... goodness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just had the best soup ever. Vegetable. On my palette I tasted a delicious sensation that I'd forgotten about; the lima bean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh how I love thee LIMA BEAN. You can make a meal delicious, delectable, and delightful. I beg you to be in any soup that I order; a side on any meal I take.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you Lima Bean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(I don't think the ravenous thought deprivation has subsided yet.)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-115808015370424447?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/115808015370424447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=115808015370424447&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115808015370424447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115808015370424447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/09/for-love-of-lima-bean.html' title='For the Love of the Lima Bean'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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-9134057.post-115797824953290403</id><published>2006-09-11T07:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-11T07:37:29.550-05:00</updated><title type='text'>September 11, 2006</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;I remember trying to make sense of the unthinkable. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-115797824953290403?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/115797824953290403/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=115797824953290403&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115797824953290403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115797824953290403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/09/september-11-2006.html' title='September 11, 2006'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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-9134057.post-115766658929033194</id><published>2006-09-07T16:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-07T17:03:09.393-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Wang</title><content type='html'>Over the weekend, I was asked what I want to do.  I answered I was weighing my options.  Apparently I swallowed the "in" part of the word ( a southern thing? I don't know.).  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend asked: &lt;em&gt;WANG? What's Wang?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, I said: &lt;em&gt;weigh..g.&lt;/em&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;My friend: &lt;em&gt;WanGG?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point I broke out laughing.  Wang is weighing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time can be Tom with my accent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what other vowels I swallow but I laughing hard when they come back at me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-115766658929033194?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/115766658929033194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=115766658929033194&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115766658929033194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115766658929033194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/09/wang.html' title='Wang'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-115713036515036861</id><published>2006-09-01T11:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-01T14:25:10.126-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Lunch on Friday</title><content type='html'>I have learned the value of lunch in general at work--- blog reading.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the week I found this entry &lt;a href="http://stacked.patrickstack.com/archives/2006/08/22/its-time-to-break-iraq-into-three-countries/"&gt;It's Time to Break Iraq Into Three Countries&lt;/a&gt; (it's political, but I love political) followed up by &lt;a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2006/08/25/AR2006082501172.html"&gt;this &lt;/a&gt;article from the Washington Post. Interesting viable theories: go read. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jonesin' for more politics? Go &lt;a href="http://cincysundevil.blogspot.com/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.  Also head &lt;a href="http://www.citizenofthemonth.com/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt; for the politically incorrect. Irreverence is a vice. &lt;a href="http://noaccentyet.blogspot.com/"&gt;Here&lt;/a&gt; or &lt;a href="http://doihavetocallitablog.blogspot.com/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt; for life everyday funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am flying out tomorrow to Atlanta for a wedding reception on Sunday. I am ambivalent about this short trip. Yes, my godson and I will see who is the air-hockey champion in an epic rematch. (No, I do not let him win. He can do so on his own.) I will love seeing my best friend. ..... It's just......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh.... I am beginning to hate going to weddings, no matter how much I love the people involved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhow was at the salon last night learning about reality TV shows with the hairstylists. They put some cool goo on my hair called High Voltage Shine. I swear walking home cars' lights were reflected back to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have a great Labor Day and next week I'll try and be more inventive in my blogging.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-115713036515036861?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/115713036515036861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=115713036515036861&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115713036515036861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115713036515036861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/09/lunch-on-friday.html' title='Lunch on Friday'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-115702937742105533</id><published>2006-08-31T07:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-01T08:08:46.566-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Rashomon Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/1600/rashomon%20story%20scene%201.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 195px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 138px" height="144" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/200/rashomon%20story%20scene%201.jpg" width="197" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/200/rashomon%20story%20scene%202.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, a cast of bloggers set out to create a story told from the point of view of set of characters using the pictures above.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cast of characters:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Man in Bed: Majere (Majere's story was written by me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;Woman: Crynne, a prostitute. (Crynne's story was written by &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold" href="http://rennratt.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Rennratt&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Man Pouring tea: Aldoux, a servant. (Aldoux's story was written by Tiff, of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold" href="http://noaccentyet.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;No Accent Yet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;Man in the Black Robes : Bishop Janiff (Janiff's story was written by &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold" href="http://ladyjanescarlett.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Lady Jane Scarlett&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;Man in the Light Purple Robes: Bishop Beddleton (Beddleton's story was written by an author who wishes to remain anonymous)&lt;br /&gt;Man in the Dark Purple Robes: Bishop Dominic y'Nobe (y'Nobe's story was written by Sea Hag, of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold" href="http://monkeybarn.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Monkey Barn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;Man in the in Red Robes: Bishop Valetti, the head Bishop (Valetti's story was written by &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold" href="http://kapgar.typepad.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Kapgar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;These vignettes were weaved together by &lt;a href="http://hyperioninstitute.blogspot.com/"&gt;Hyperion&lt;/a&gt;and presented cohesively as a master murder mystery story, &lt;a href="http://literaryhype.blogspot.com/2006/08/sins-of-father.html"&gt;The Sins of the Father &lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Go read and enjoy. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-115702937742105533?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/115702937742105533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=115702937742105533&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115702937742105533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115702937742105533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/08/rashomon-story.html' title='Rashomon Story'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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-9134057.post-115659970441120281</id><published>2006-08-26T08:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-26T08:54:02.146-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tall Ships</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/1600/DSC00136.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/320/DSC00136.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/1600/DSC00140.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/320/DSC00140.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/1600/DSC00137.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 251px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" height="292" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/320/DSC00137.jpg" width="247" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/1600/DSC00135.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 229px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 285px" height="295" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/320/DSC00135.jpg" width="217" 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/9134057-115659970441120281?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/115659970441120281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=115659970441120281&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115659970441120281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115659970441120281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/08/tall-ships.html' title='Tall Ships'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-115643589386629352</id><published>2006-08-24T11:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-25T16:30:41.800-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Friend-ship</title><content type='html'>I get up god awful early to walk in the mornings before I go to work. I walk about two miles before I head down to the boardwalk to watch the sun come up over the river.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning as I was turning onto the boardwalk I saw the Friendship awaiting me.*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 257px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 204px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="169" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/400/Friendship%20Nwbypt.0.jpg" width="221" border="0" /&gt;&lt;p&gt;She's huge against our tiny dock. Her masts rising skyward and hull overshadowing the boardwalk. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I stopped to take in her magnificence and contemplate her beauty. I was joined by two joggers; all three of us pausing our MP3 players and staring in silence at the great tall ship outlined by the dawning sky and river. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;*I returned at 7 am to take this picture.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-115643589386629352?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/115643589386629352/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=115643589386629352&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115643589386629352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115643589386629352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/08/friend-ship.html' title='Friend-ship'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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-9134057.post-115634473338144429</id><published>2006-08-23T09:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-23T11:44:50.360-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fast Food Advice</title><content type='html'>In a fit of boredom while tech support was attempting to fix a computer error, I read the back of my Starbucks cup.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Way I See It #160&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sixty-nine percent of all problems in relationships are unsolvable. They are about differences in personality or needs. They never change. When you choose someone, you will have inherited the problems you will have for the next 50 years. Unfortunately, we pick people who are not as perfect as we are,&lt;/em&gt; (I'm perfect? Cool. Good to know.) &lt;em&gt;so relationships work if you have wound up with a perpetual problems you can learn to live with. -- Dr. John Gottman; scientific expert on marriage, relationships, and family.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is this advice I'd want to employ on a first date?  I think not.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-115634473338144429?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/115634473338144429/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=115634473338144429&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115634473338144429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115634473338144429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/08/fast-food-advice.html' title='Fast Food Advice'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-115627081494936841</id><published>2006-08-22T13:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-22T15:24:27.266-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Confusion</title><content type='html'>Awhile ago I did a list for &lt;a href="http://hyperioninstitute.blogspot.com/"&gt;Hyperion&lt;/a&gt; on the &lt;a href="http://rankeverything.blogspot.com/2006/07/mariemm3-is-confused.html"&gt;Top Ten Things I do not Understand&lt;/a&gt;. I've done this list before and different, but I forget stuff every now and then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhow on the way home from Maine this past Sunday I saw another thing I don't understand - the truck limo. &lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/200/texas_truck_1_t.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p&gt;Why? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Pleeeeeeeaaaaaase explain this to me. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Aren't these two things exclusive to the other? Why combine them? If you want to be in a limo, do you want a flat bed truck or vice-versa? Each on their own give completely different statements... &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I tried to ask the guy in the limo. We were in heavy traffic, but I couldn't catch up the truck limo slightly rolled down window to ask. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I will be forever mystified unless you can help me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-115627081494936841?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/115627081494936841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=115627081494936841&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115627081494936841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115627081494936841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/08/confusion.html' title='Confusion'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-115593327265993411</id><published>2006-08-18T14:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-19T07:09:02.160-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Saved by the Neon Belt.. sorta</title><content type='html'>Last night I went to see a movie about Leonard Cohen "I'm Your Man". Normally I hate music biographies as I find them overstated / overpuffed trips into the egomaniac minds of musicians. The movie I saw last night was different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm Your Man was more an artistic and poetic look at Cohen's work and the influences he had on musicians without being self grandizing. I truly enjoyed it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the movie, my friend Tim and I went to get a drink the Black Cow, a restaurant with a patio overlooking the Merrimack. As we talked, a guy walked by wearing a belt that doubled as sign with blue neon letters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't laughed so hard in a long while. The man lit up everyone he came in contact with. People around him were all a-glow in blue. He was truly a man of the old Miami Vice era.&lt;br /&gt;-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;When I awoke this morning, I felt the hangover of a lifetime. A hangover reminiscent of my twenty-first birthday when my senses awoke one at a time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First came awareness: I had passed out and was somewhere different than I had been last night. A downey soft bed with super soft airy sheets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next came my hearing: Someone was snoring. I still couldn't move.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then sight: A blue light was on somewhere in the corner of the room reminding me of an alarm clock's glowing face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then smell: The smell of fresh morning air mixed in with the scent of night old alcohol that emanates from the pores making my gag reflexes come to life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally motion: Running to hug the porcelain god.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;God - I do not miss being twenty-one. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;This fictionalized story was brought to you by &lt;a href="http://voixdemichele.blogspot.com/"&gt;Michele&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://cincysundevil.blogspot.com/"&gt;Cincy&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-115593327265993411?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/115593327265993411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=115593327265993411&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115593327265993411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115593327265993411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/08/saved-by-neon-belt-sorta.html' title='Saved by the Neon Belt.. sorta'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-115565713728053869</id><published>2006-08-15T10:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-15T13:54:06.920-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Brain Block</title><content type='html'>In an overwhlming lack of creativity and general blankness, I am having a hard time thinking of anything to post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Therein lies the problem..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I owe &lt;a href="http://noaccentyet.blogspot.com/"&gt;Tiff&lt;/a&gt; a story from two weeks ago and have another story to get out by Thursday for that task master &lt;a href="http://hyperioninstitute.blogspot.com/"&gt;Hyperion&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The gray matter is not functioning, not even kicking in. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Help.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-115565713728053869?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/115565713728053869/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=115565713728053869&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115565713728053869'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115565713728053869'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/08/brain-block.html' title='Brain Block'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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-9134057.post-115446775333383762</id><published>2006-08-01T16:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-01T16:29:13.486-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Flooded (part b)</title><content type='html'>Most of the memories that encircle me have me smiling. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fell in love for the first time in this town.  I have friends for life rooted here.  I will always have a place within the circle of friends who have become my surrogate family.  Smiles live here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New memories are being made all the time.  Memories I will hold when I want to smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sloane, a wee two year old - Austin's sister,  bellowed "Shell" within the half an hour I arrive.  Austin soaked me in the bumper boats at Malibu Grand Prix.  Iris, a curly topped two year old -Sloane's cousin, ran to me with a smile to say "hello".  Vic rocking out with his new band.  Maria and I sharing our ritual coffee talk at Borders.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday's breakfast at le Madeline in Buckhead, I see Ian, an adorable six year old who worships his cousin Austin, completely pouting.  Austin is sitting next to him with a sly smile on his face, but with his face turned away from Ian. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ask Ian what's wrong.  Ian whines, "I want to know what is Austin's favorite part of Lego's Star Wars [a video game] and he won't tell me." I turn to Austin.  "What did you say when Ian asked you?" Austin turns his sly smile to me.  "Lego my Eggo."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-115446775333383762?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/115446775333383762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=115446775333383762&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115446775333383762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115446775333383762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/08/flooded-part-b.html' title='Flooded (part b)'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-115445246001932200</id><published>2006-08-01T11:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-01T12:19:06.556-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Flood</title><content type='html'>As soon as I step into Hartsfield International airport from the plane, I am on autopilot. I walk to the car rental counter with my carry on and after going through the necessary hoops, drive the rental car to my best friend's house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At Maria's house, the memories begin to merge into my conscious. The memories drift slowly, gently from the recesses of my mind. They niggle my conscious with awareness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not sure when but at some point, somewhere in the middle of batting practice with my godson, Austin; playing Thomas the Train with his sister; talking to my friends, or drinking coffee in the morning while Austin plays his X-Box, the memories fully take over my senses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everywhere I look is a place I've touched before. I am overwhelmed. I am flooded.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-115445246001932200?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/115445246001932200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=115445246001932200&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115445246001932200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115445246001932200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/08/flood.html' title='Flood'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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-9134057.post-115361011827857948</id><published>2006-07-22T18:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-26T11:06:04.943-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fog</title><content type='html'>Saturday I watched the fog engulf the boats docked at the mouth of the river; their ghostly outlines barely visible. The boats stood defiant against the gray denseness like beacons; their masts calling out to one another -reassuring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have always liked watching fog roll around and through objects with a life all its own demanding eerie attention in its paradox quality that is opaque transparence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stories come forth generating in my mind ghosts, pirates and all things that might lurk in such gray shadows using the blindness the fog creates to live and hide.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-115361011827857948?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/115361011827857948/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=115361011827857948&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115361011827857948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115361011827857948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/07/fog.html' title='Fog'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-115331041110338084</id><published>2006-07-19T06:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-19T07:00:38.533-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Condom Man</title><content type='html'>Rare sightings in the summer. Mainly a winter species. Slightly insane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Identifiable by complete spandex outfit from head to toe much like a Olympic speed skater, earning the name Condom Man, but this species runs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most likely to see species when coldest; early mornings and blizzards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Identifiable in summer only by time and temperature, usually mid-morning to midday when temperatures approach ninety.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-115331041110338084?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/115331041110338084/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=115331041110338084&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115331041110338084'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115331041110338084'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/07/condom-man.html' title='Condom Man'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-115287319312230268</id><published>2006-07-14T05:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-14T07:55:07.556-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I have a BICEP!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/1600/bicep.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/320/bicep.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I discovered this miracle of muscle while at the gym doing bicep curls. No, I would never do curls if my trainer wasn't standing over me. AND it has paid off!!!!! (Having a trainer is the best present I've ever bought myself.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I run around showing off and singing, "I have a bicep. I have a bicep. I have bicep."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No you can't touch it. It might deflate.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-115287319312230268?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/115287319312230268/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=115287319312230268&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115287319312230268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115287319312230268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/07/i-have-bicep.html' title='I have a BICEP!'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-115265578761808619</id><published>2006-07-11T16:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-11T17:09:47.643-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Boat People</title><content type='html'>Two weeks ago I went kayaking. I had the best time even when I could not seem to navigate my way around the boats well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine meters of water and one lone boat in front of you. The current is pulling you to the boat and you have to paddle, hard, around the boat and their fishing lines.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boat people are cool. They'd say a quick 'hi' as I was paddling desperately to avoid them. I managed three hellos from the boat people I missed by inches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boat people come out every Memorial Day and disappear every Labor Day.  They line the boardwalk dock area sometimes sleeping out on their decks, if a small boat, on hot summer nights.   The boat people are the people you see early in the mornings with coffee in hand.  They are the people who nudge past the tourists during local festivals with grocery bags from the quickmart. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boat people spell summer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I smile when I think of them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-115265578761808619?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/115265578761808619/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=115265578761808619&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115265578761808619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115265578761808619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/07/boat-people.html' title='Boat People'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-115230202281679700</id><published>2006-07-07T14:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-07T14:53:42.840-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Freak Show Carnival</title><content type='html'>You must, must, go to the great Tiff's site and check out this week's &lt;a href="http://noaccentyet.blogspot.com/2006/07/carnival-of-mundane-14-freak-show-junk.html"&gt;Carnival&lt;/a&gt;!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-115230202281679700?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/115230202281679700/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=115230202281679700&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115230202281679700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115230202281679700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/07/freak-show-carnival.html' title='The Freak Show Carnival'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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-9134057.post-115215615765619819</id><published>2006-07-06T22:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-05T22:25:26.486-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes Philosophy</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;Sometimes reality is what you believe &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;Believing what people perceive, what your heart whispers, or what your conditioning accepts&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;Sometimes perception doesn't count&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;Sometimes, given only two alternatives there exists a secret third option &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;Most ultimatums, even the one your mind creates, never truly exist&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;Sometimes we when choose our circumstances; we are obligated to find out our reasons why&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;Sometimes when given an opportunity, it's best just to take it &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;Projecting out into the future can mean letting go of the present&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;Sometimes we are given what we need in the right now&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;Sometimes the learning is the most important lesson&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;Sometimes distance is just a state a mind &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;Sometimes catching up to say slow down is as important as catching up to walk with someone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;Taking a step back to where you were, can be more objective than taking a step away, sometimes not&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;Sometimes even if you lose, the risk was worth taking the chance&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;Sometimes the chance is worth more than the risk and the loss&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;Even the scariest moments can gain us something&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;Fear contains a secret that will set you free &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;Sometimes absolutes are just in our imagination&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;Always and Never are extremes we should not have to choose&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;Sometimes the brick wall that you crash into, gives the greatest insight to yourself&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;If control were everything, then life would be best lived alone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;Sometimes impossibilities are the only realities that matter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;Sometimes differences offer the best choices &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;Sometimes ambition can get you where you're going as long as it doesn't take you away from yourself&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;Sometimes the standards you set for yourself are high enough&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;Sometimes living is the greatest feat of accomplishment&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;Sometimes, sometimes is everything &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;Sometimes, sometimes is the chance that comes along granting the wish you never knew you wanted&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;Sometimes you expect a moment to mean nothing more than the moment&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;Sometimes a moment changes who you are&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Stylus BT;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-115215615765619819?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/115215615765619819/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=115215615765619819&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115215615765619819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115215615765619819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/07/sometimes-philosophy.html' title='Sometimes Philosophy'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-115211908893482602</id><published>2006-07-05T11:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-05T12:04:48.996-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Extreme Yoga</title><content type='html'>Over the weekend I attended a yoga retreat. This being my first ever yoga retreat and not having done much yoga, I had no idea what to expect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the weekend we practiced yoga (ok like duh) and meditation techniques.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I learned:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) OM is not an Urban Legend. OM is used to center and focus the mind. Everyone say it with me now.... Ommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. (Try to sit crossed legged when saying it.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Yoga people get up damned early in the morning. We were doing yoga at five am. Yikes! This is time I get up during the week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) Yoga people are dedicated. We yogaed from five am to ten pm with breaks for food. I was exhausted every night. (Most people in class had been doing yoga for a good portion of their lives.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) I am far more flexible than I thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) There are a hell of lot of yoga positions. I have been to maybe four yoga classes in my life. This class was not your Bally's/Gold's yoga class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) Water is essential and fundamental to yogaing. I almost passed out on the second day because the yoga room was hot. I was the only that had to have a bottle of water constantly with them but at least I did not pass out again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I enjoyed much of the yoga part of the retreat. The meditation was a little hard for me.  My mind does not quiet easily.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-115211908893482602?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/115211908893482602/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=115211908893482602&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115211908893482602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115211908893482602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/07/extreme-yoga.html' title='Extreme Yoga'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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-9134057.post-115157665013165677</id><published>2006-06-29T05:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-30T15:24:17.046-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Here and There (Poetry Thursday)</title><content type='html'>I've been around the world&lt;br /&gt;Differences between there and here&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The coffee is stronger&lt;br /&gt;The food more flavorful&lt;br /&gt;History a touch deeper&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Upon coming home&lt;br /&gt;No Joyous relief so Profound&lt;br /&gt;Has been known as&lt;br /&gt;Sinking, delicately, deliciously&lt;br /&gt;Into my Pillow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Home, a place I have made for myself&lt;br /&gt;A place where&lt;br /&gt;Time, energy, and care&lt;br /&gt;Make it my own&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life may seem a little more Colorful There&lt;br /&gt;Here, A little more diluted&lt;br /&gt;Richer for being there&lt;br /&gt;Feel nothing so deep than the Plushness&lt;br /&gt;Of Here&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People there&lt;br /&gt;As Different as here&lt;br /&gt;Masks of Politeness; Gallic Shrugs&lt;br /&gt;Political Demeanors and Friendly smiles&lt;br /&gt;Candid teasing&lt;br /&gt;Connecting the memories between There and Here&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Treasuring certain moments&lt;br /&gt;On very rare occasions&lt;br /&gt;Witnessed landmarks the world knows&lt;br /&gt;Yet are precious to me&lt;br /&gt;For I have seen them&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These recollections are pulled out: Sacred&lt;br /&gt;Because I am here and not there&lt;br /&gt;Not taking for granted such sights and people&lt;br /&gt;Because not having seen them for a time&lt;br /&gt;Here and there&lt;br /&gt;I cherish Here&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-115157665013165677?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/115157665013165677/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=115157665013165677&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115157665013165677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115157665013165677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/06/here-and-there-poetry-thursday.html' title='Here and There (Poetry Thursday)'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-115108743741753203</id><published>2006-06-23T13:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-23T13:33:00.666-05:00</updated><title type='text'>RANT: What the hell happened to customer service?</title><content type='html'>I left my Philips MP3 battery recharger in Atlanta. My battery is drained and I decided to order a new one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was completely excited when I came home last night and the Philips package was waiting by the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Now I can walk in the mornings to my tunes again. I take my MP3 player to the gym again. I can connect it to the stereo adapter I bought. I miss my MP3s.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How upset was I when I opened the box to find a battery? &lt;strong&gt;Very! &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am on hold with Philips now to get an RMA (return) number.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Philips has told me they will charge a restocking fee of $15 because I could not distinguish BATT RECHA as a rechargable battery and not a battery recharger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While on massive hold, I checked the website again. BATT RECHA product description is BATT&lt;br /&gt;RECHARG (no picture). According to the customer service representative I should have had a clear indication from the description that this product was a battery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The replacement product choices on the web are:&lt;br /&gt;BATT RECHA&lt;br /&gt;HDPH&lt;br /&gt;USB AC&lt;br /&gt;Carry Case&lt;br /&gt;Install CD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do any of these items seem to scream I am a recharger for your MP3 other than BATT RECHA?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The customer service lady just asked if I needed anything else. &lt;em&gt;Well, I still need a recharger&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am back on hold while she attempts to find out which of the items listed above is a battery recharger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;UGH!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-115108743741753203?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/115108743741753203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=115108743741753203&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115108743741753203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115108743741753203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/06/rant-what-hell-happened-to-customer.html' title='RANT: What the hell happened to customer service?'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-115098938513267003</id><published>2006-06-22T10:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-22T14:52:09.300-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Words (Poetry Thursday)</title><content type='html'>Aptly adept or adeptly apt&lt;br /&gt;Trips off my tongue now&lt;br /&gt;Sweet short alliteration&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;My first attempt at haiku.  I don't think I have it yet; so be kind. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-115098938513267003?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/115098938513267003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=115098938513267003&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115098938513267003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115098938513267003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/06/words-poetry-thursday.html' title='Words (Poetry Thursday)'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-115074967834035128</id><published>2006-06-19T13:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-19T19:20:40.670-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dysfunctional Days</title><content type='html'>My dysfunctional day started last night as I watched a brutal baseball game between my two favorite pitchers which caused me to stay up too late last night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I was up too late, I slept too late this morning. I put was putting on eyeshadow this morning when I realized I had not taken a shower yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After an extra thirty minutes of getting ready, I took another ten minutes getting out of the house. I drove half way down the street on my way to get coffee, sorely in need of caffine, only to come back to turn off the iron.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was about to pay for my cup of coffee at my favorite coffee shop when I looked in my wallet and realized I did not have any money. I went to the ATM across the street to get money. Luckily the coffee people knew me and held my coffee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made it to work safely but am having trouble doing work that's due tomorrow because of constant interuptions on another matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to make a Target run at lunch to get clean work out clothes for my training session tonight, but I still forgot my gym bag and need to go home to get shoes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do weeks start on Sunday or Monday? I am begining to feel that my dysfunctional day is really a dysfunctional week if much of today is caused by yesterday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-115074967834035128?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/115074967834035128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=115074967834035128&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115074967834035128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115074967834035128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/06/dysfunctional-days.html' title='Dysfunctional Days'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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-9134057.post-115036522746842879</id><published>2006-06-15T04:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-15T04:53:47.493-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ever and Now (Poetry Thursday)</title><content type='html'>I am cheating again, stealing from my poetry page.  Ah well, deal...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Ever and Now&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If ever there was&lt;br /&gt;If there ever could be&lt;br /&gt;Without me&lt;br /&gt;My ever will never see&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever not to plan&lt;br /&gt;Ever unfolds in the sands&lt;br /&gt;Ever comes from now&lt;br /&gt;Now to the future, will not bow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I will not forget&lt;br /&gt;Now, what will become of it&lt;br /&gt;Now is; in the now&lt;br /&gt;Ever to those behind somehow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever is not what I dream&lt;br /&gt;Now in the ever seam&lt;br /&gt;Ever becomes a fantasy&lt;br /&gt;The now is just a part of me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;November 04,2000&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-115036522746842879?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/115036522746842879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=115036522746842879&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115036522746842879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115036522746842879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/06/ever-and-now-poetry-thursday.html' title='Ever and Now (Poetry Thursday)'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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-9134057.post-115011109019262716</id><published>2006-06-12T06:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-12T10:57:07.356-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Overheard</title><content type='html'>I went to meet my personal trainer over the weekend for the first time. Yes, I got a personal trainer. Not becuase I am trying to be super buff or anything, but because I am having trouble with maintaining my cardio. i.e. I can be on the eliptical machine for thirty minutes or more but I am out of breath climbing stairs. I want to find out what's up with that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While changing out at the gym, two women were sitting completely naked by the sauna doors, not in the sauna. (Comments on this one are all yours.) One lady was complaining to another lady about her daughter and her grandson.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;em&gt;Trevor just went downstairs to the basement! He was there when I got home. He didn't ask. I couldn't believe it. I called Debbie and told her that out of all people I expected her to raise her son better than that. She hung up on me. I can't understand why she's so upset. She should just apologize for Trevor and get over it&lt;/em&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So tempting to jump in with, "What did you expect calling your daughter a bad mother?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the walk to the square downtown, a girl with hugley dialated eyes was talking to another girl, "&lt;em&gt;That would be really cosmic. You and I should totally get those tattoos together&lt;/em&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you think they are going to regret the tattoo they get?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-115011109019262716?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/115011109019262716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=115011109019262716&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115011109019262716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/115011109019262716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/06/overheard.html' title='Overheard'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-114975917328770103</id><published>2006-06-08T04:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-08T04:32:53.303-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sun (Poetry Thursday)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;In honor of the endless rain ....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sun calling my name&lt;br /&gt;Shine on me&lt;br /&gt;Light my mind with clarity&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sun holding onto me&lt;br /&gt;Firing up in the embrace&lt;br /&gt;Melting down, I feel whole&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sun bring me out from these hazy shadows&lt;br /&gt;Glare down on the fear that follows me in my image&lt;br /&gt;Vanquished I come out to play&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sun pour in me and I pour to you&lt;br /&gt;We are one&lt;br /&gt;Bright and radiant as all the rest&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Warm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;7/10/2005&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-114975917328770103?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/114975917328770103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=114975917328770103&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114975917328770103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114975917328770103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/06/sun-poetry-thursday.html' title='Sun (Poetry Thursday)'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-114955188643798302</id><published>2006-06-05T18:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-07T20:42:53.323-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Souvenirs from Maine</title><content type='html'>I went to Maine over the weekend to see some friends. On my way home a turkey flew three feet in front of my car. After slamming on the brakes and marveling that turkeys know how to fly, I thought I'd stop, gather my composure, and pick some souvenirs. My camera phone is not the best so I'll put in a description for the blurriness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 195px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 141px" height="204" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/320/WTF.jpg" width="273" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WTF: over an empty toilet paper roll. &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(lemon drops)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/1600/Anti-establishment.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 207px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 165px" height="203" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/320/Anti-establishment.jpg" width="278" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anti -Establish Mints. Promise Libertie, Fraternite, and Minty Freshness. &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(cinnamon mints)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/1600/Enlightenment.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 209px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 162px" height="221" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/320/Enlightenment.jpg" width="291" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EnlightenMints: Engenders epiphanies and other related phenomenon. &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(cinnamon mints)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/1600/Mother.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 209px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 170px" height="213" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/320/Mother.jpg" width="232" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Understand Your Mother &lt;em&gt;instantly &lt;/em&gt;without having to meet or talk with her. &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(peppermint drops)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/1600/Bananna%20Lip.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 208px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 168px" height="241" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/320/Bananna%20Lip.jpg" width="277" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dahli - as promised: Banana Lip Balm. Smells like Bananas too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-114955188643798302?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/114955188643798302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=114955188643798302&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114955188643798302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114955188643798302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/06/souvenirs-from-maine.html' title='Souvenirs from Maine'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-114915878770551502</id><published>2006-06-01T05:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-01T05:46:27.746-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Cheesy</title><content type='html'>Now I have time to think&lt;br /&gt;A hundred and twenty miles&lt;br /&gt;Passes each minute&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watching white broken lines&lt;br /&gt;Seeing all the people as we stop and crawl&lt;br /&gt;Feeling like a toddler slowed down by it legs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The unfairness of it all&lt;br /&gt;Police forced into a seventies prison- the camero&lt;br /&gt;He pulls over a mommy mobile&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Debating the elasticity of each lane&lt;br /&gt;Wandering where I can fly&lt;br /&gt;What do I think about now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can be my heros&lt;br /&gt;Carl Sagan imagining the universe&lt;br /&gt;From the after life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could sing the body electric&lt;br /&gt;Capitalizing on Walt's Fame&lt;br /&gt;If I knew how to sing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many mores miles&lt;br /&gt;Caffiene levels running in my veins become weak&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I refill I will be bouncing&lt;br /&gt;Either to music or&lt;br /&gt;In search a bathroom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reching my destination&lt;br /&gt;I shut the catraption off&lt;br /&gt;Preparing to turn around and do it again&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-114915878770551502?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/114915878770551502/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=114915878770551502&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114915878770551502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114915878770551502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/06/cheesy.html' title='Cheesy'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-114883469015395826</id><published>2006-05-28T11:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-29T04:52:22.550-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Does Love Conquer All</title><content type='html'>Does Love Conquer All?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a discussion with a friend, the subject came up. He said no. At the time I agreed with him. Why? Because love seems so rarely to conquer anything much less all. I am wrong though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember love takes all forms; infinite possibilities on every color of love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love can conquer all. It frequently does conqueror many. People stay in relationships that are not good because of love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People are not willing to sacrifice themselves to love.  Sometimes relationships breakup because someone will not lose his/her values to keep the relationship going. Good or bad, I don't know. Probably neither.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A thousand ways to act on love or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know if you let it, love can feed you. I find strength in love, being loved and loving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But should love conquer all? Is looking at love like a conqueror even sane?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most feelings and actions are individualized. Why not love?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like to think of love as a most personal decision and feeling -part of the self that spreads outward- something to share.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will love conqueror all?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hell if I know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-114883469015395826?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/114883469015395826/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=114883469015395826&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114883469015395826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114883469015395826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/05/does-love-conquer-all.html' title='Does Love Conquer All'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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-9134057.post-114846627442868246</id><published>2006-05-24T05:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-24T05:25:53.230-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My lazy ass</title><content type='html'>I recently signed what I thought was a &lt;a href="http://www.citizenofthemonth.com/2006/05/21/i-vow-to-move-my-ass/"&gt;non-binding exercise contract&lt;/a&gt;. I entered into many such agreements over the years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend/neighbor/someone: "&lt;em&gt;You and I should workout togther, the buddy system&lt;/em&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;Me: "&lt;em&gt;Absolutely&lt;/em&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never happens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The agreement I entered into on Monday was similar. Or so I thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, after I managed not to make it to the gym, the devil visited me demanding my soul, a possible future first born, and any blood I have on hand.. yaddah, yaddah, yaddah....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Satan, thinking I was laughing at him, make no mistake - I was, told me if I did not get my ass to the gym, he would strike me dead bloating my corpse but only in the butt and abdomen. CSIs for years would be looking for the "agent" that caused it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up screaming.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-114846627442868246?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/114846627442868246/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=114846627442868246&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114846627442868246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114846627442868246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/05/my-lazy-ass.html' title='My lazy ass'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-114826145363515755</id><published>2006-05-21T20:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-21T20:32:58.756-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Man I'd Marry</title><content type='html'>Evolution of Dance&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/dMH0bHeiRNg"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/dMH0bHeiRNg" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="350"&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/9134057-114826145363515755?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/114826145363515755/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=114826145363515755&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114826145363515755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114826145363515755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/05/man-id-marry.html' title='The Man I&apos;d Marry'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-114813591116402555</id><published>2006-05-20T09:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-20T09:38:31.190-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Cable Guy!</title><content type='html'>I am waiting for the Cable Guy! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jim Carey - I wish.  Come on -make me laugh dude. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last weekend's allergy explosion that sent me to the couch all Saturday and most of the day Sunday has prompted me to return to standard cable. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least now, I'll know what shows people are talking about and I can watch my beloved baseball without paying a fortune. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I wait for said cable man, I took a trip into the past from a good friend's post.  &lt;a href="http://my0r.blogspot.com/2006/05/1985-music-news-and-high-school.html"&gt;Check it out&lt;/a&gt;.  (Yes - it's about music. Deal. I'm a music geek: sue me.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-114813591116402555?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/114813591116402555/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=114813591116402555&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114813591116402555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114813591116402555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/05/cable-guy.html' title='Cable Guy!'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-114791936671130508</id><published>2006-05-17T21:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-18T04:55:05.330-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Pollen (Poetry Thursday)</title><content type='html'>Pressure building, Head pounding,&lt;br /&gt;Sinuses screaming - Congestion&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scratching, Sneezing, Dripping nose&lt;br /&gt;One Nostril passing air&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Throaty voice, Elmer Fudd nose&lt;br /&gt;Can you understand me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Decongestant, Antihistamine, Decongestant&lt;br /&gt;Four boxes of tissue&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Allergies&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#666666;"&gt;5/17/06&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-114791936671130508?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/114791936671130508/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=114791936671130508&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114791936671130508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114791936671130508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/05/pollen-poetry-thursday.html' title='Pollen (Poetry Thursday)'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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-9134057.post-114782733003520737</id><published>2006-05-16T19:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-16T19:58:29.116-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Smiles and Flood</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Rain, rain on my face&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;It hasn't stopped raining for days&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;My world is a flood&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Slowly I become one with the mud&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;Oh wait, the rain stopped this afternoon and the waters should start receding.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I can see clearly now the rain is gone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I can see all obstacles in my way&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;It's gonna be a bright (bright) bright (bright) sunshinin' day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;I see mushy pollen and the road closings. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;Okay. Okay.  The sun is out and believe me I am thankful.   I am not sure I could ever live in Seattle. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;***********************************************************************************&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;Today my godson told me he liked arena rock.   Huh? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;***********************************************************************************&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;I give my first presentation of my new job tomorrow.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;***********************************************************************************&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;Smiles rock.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-114782733003520737?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/114782733003520737/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=114782733003520737&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114782733003520737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114782733003520737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/05/smiles-and-flood.html' title='Smiles and Flood'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-114768600887182910</id><published>2006-05-15T04:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-15T20:54:50.783-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Signs</title><content type='html'>I don't believe in 'signs'. OK. Sometimes I do. Or at least I do for a small space of time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately I have been thinking of moving. I am not sure about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once I the thought began to grow in my mind, I began getting offers to interview in a certain city; Raleigh, NC. The interviews were for jobs I didn't want and did not want to consider. Very IT and very one-sided. Part of the job I have now is working to set up a redundancy office in Raleigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is that a sign or have I just begun to notice that my skills are desirable in a tech hotspot?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have begun to notice other places as well, just not with the same consistency as Raleigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly I don't want to move back to the South. North Carolina is a little different. The state has mountains and snow. Still the South.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's left? West Coast or a Rocky Mountain State- preferably not too far north.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Signs are really about desires and what comes about as a result of those desires.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do I want to move or change the place I am in?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-114768600887182910?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/114768600887182910/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=114768600887182910&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114768600887182910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114768600887182910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/05/signs.html' title='Signs'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-114760604739095982</id><published>2006-05-14T06:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-14T06:27:27.403-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Head's Gonna Explode</title><content type='html'>Being in bed sick for two days is the most boring pastime ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My nose is sore. My throat is sore. My head is pounding. If I didn't take decongestants with antihistamines, I wouldn't breathe through the one nostril I am breathing through and my head would explode from the pressure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Going back to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is enough for me to wanna upgrade my cable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. Bill the Cat made a cameo in last Sunday's Opus.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-114760604739095982?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/114760604739095982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=114760604739095982&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114760604739095982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114760604739095982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/05/my-heads-gonna-explode.html' title='My Head&apos;s Gonna Explode'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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-9134057.post-114716690581177899</id><published>2006-05-09T03:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-09T04:34:21.323-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Atlanta</title><content type='html'>I fly here a few times a year. My best friend Maria and her husband, Lewis, are here. My godson, A, is here and all my friends are here or come here. I wished I liked Atlanta more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am in Atlanta to celebrate A's first holy communion and his sister, S's second birthday. The occasion brings everyone. Maria is the center in which occasions like this draw various friends and family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vic, who lives here and is A's godfather, and I, with Eddie, A's cousin, sat in the back pews for the Eucharist mass. We tried unsuccessfully to divert A's attention and lure him to sit back here with us. We made jokes and laughed pretty much all the way through the service, which explains why we are in the back pews. Sitting up front would have gotten us in trouble with A's grandparents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On S's birthday celebration, more people came in; like &lt;a href="http://paula-lifeasiknowit.blogspot.com/"&gt;Paula&lt;/a&gt; who I haven't seen in ages and have loads of fun with. We, the friends and family, celebrated by chasing kids around, opening presents, and making plans to see one another over the summer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday morning I got up early to spend time with A before he went to school. This a ritual I have with him on the day I leave. He becomes upset when he doesn't see me the day I leave even if I have said goodbye the night before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My godchild has a way of crystallizing a moment; I realize I am missing his and his sister's growing up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: &lt;em&gt;When are you leaving?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: &lt;em&gt;Today. Your mom is dropping me at the train station at noon.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;A: Oh.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:&lt;em&gt; You know I'll be back for your birthday.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A stares at me with solemn eyes and nods.&lt;br /&gt;Me:&lt;em&gt; It's not the same; is it?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: &lt;em&gt;No, it's not the same. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maria comes in to the living room and bundles A up. He gives me a hug and leaves for school. I wait until Lewis heads to work and I am babysitting S for a few minutes, who is sleeping. Then I cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I already miss my friends terribly. I miss the kids. I miss my second family. I miss the memories that linger here. Even the bad ones. Yet I make the decision every time to go back to&lt;br /&gt;Boston.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-114716690581177899?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/114716690581177899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=114716690581177899&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114716690581177899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114716690581177899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/05/atlanta.html' title='Atlanta'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-114671112747859865</id><published>2006-05-03T21:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-05T13:49:50.990-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mirages</title><content type='html'>I seem to go through some amazing high points followed by some amazing insecure moments. I wonder why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that for everything we do in life there is an intrinisc lesson. After gaining some distance over the past six months from my a year of absolute- I don't generally believe in absolutes- ups and downs, my lesson is becoming apparent to me; beware of mirages.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is real?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If in a given situation, my feelings are strong; I know they are real. How about the person with whom I am interacting? Not so fast. I've been here before and my feelings have led me to believe what I have is mutual.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You'd think that I'd learn not to trust people. What I've learned is that I don't want to abandon or guard my trust in people regardless of the mirage affect. Even though I have seen some interesting oases shimmering in the distance lately, I know I am learning how to identify the real thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thought occurred to me while I was in the shower that I have not set any defined goals in my life lately. Even with my writing. Even my poetry is on a slippery slope lately. I have stuff in the works, but haven't been motivated to push for the finish. (Sorry mom- I am working on it.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought about a "to do" list. I suck at those. They get made and I never look at them again. But what the hell: write a goal, have a goal. (I am not numbering these because then there are no rules on the order.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;!) start writing fiction again. one story. any story.&lt;br /&gt;@) finish my poetry and start sending it off. thank you again Stephanie for the links.&lt;br /&gt;#) I want to be able to get to a place where I can express my emotions as well as &lt;a href="http://voixdemichele.blogspot.com/"&gt;Michele&lt;/a&gt; or my humor as well as &lt;a href="http://www.citizenofthemonth.com/"&gt;Neil&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;$) moving my butt out the door to the great outdoors; long drives are not an excuse to come home and collapse.&lt;br /&gt;%) leave the people behind who have made the choice to stay there and concentrate on the people who are in my present. Thank you Danny for making me laugh when I cry over split milk.&lt;br /&gt;^) I know my dreams and I need to start following them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that is enough for now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-114671112747859865?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/114671112747859865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=114671112747859865&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114671112747859865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114671112747859865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/05/mirages.html' title='Mirages'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-114669895467993086</id><published>2006-05-03T18:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-03T18:29:14.710-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sam Cooke is now a British White Guy</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/200/sam.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Driving during what I call the music hour- takes me an hour to get home from work and I play the radio or CDs continuously- I heard what I thought was a Sam Cooke song, one I hadn't heard before, on the radio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love Sam Cooke. His voice instantly relaxes me. Doesn't matter if traffic is horrendous. Doesn't matter if life is not crystal clear. I am lifted by Sam Cooke's voice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine my surprise when the radio announcer said the song played was actually by James Hunter. Turns out some upstart from Britain is singing modernized R&amp;B with a sweet clarity and his voice, what a voice! If I had stopped believing in God, I'd believe in Him again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;James Hunter has the gift. &lt;a href="http://www.jameshuntermusic.com/base.html"&gt;Take a listen and click here&lt;/a&gt;. Dare ya!!! Sam Cooke couldn't complain .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 121px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 124px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="161" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/200/James%20Hunter.0.jpg" width="155" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-114669895467993086?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/114669895467993086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=114669895467993086&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114669895467993086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114669895467993086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/05/sam-cooke-is-now-british-white-guy.html' title='Sam Cooke is now a British White Guy'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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-9134057.post-114656515868206104</id><published>2006-05-02T05:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-02T05:22:48.076-05:00</updated><title type='text'>6 am</title><content type='html'>Morning 5:30 am:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;catch up on blog reading while coffee is brewing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Morning 6:12 am:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;coffee is done and I am still at my computer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Morning 6:13 am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;can't move...... willing coffee to pour itself and come to me..........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Morning 6:14 am:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ARRRRRGGGGGGGG ..... I don't have this much patience. Going to get coffee.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-114656515868206104?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/114656515868206104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=114656515868206104&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114656515868206104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114656515868206104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/05/6-am.html' title='6 am'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-114647542344656038</id><published>2006-05-01T04:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-01T04:26:48.793-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Opus</title><content type='html'>Catching up on my reading...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/1600/Opus2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 405px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 289px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="231" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/320/Opus2.jpg" width="344" 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/9134057-114647542344656038?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/114647542344656038/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=114647542344656038&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114647542344656038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114647542344656038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/05/opus.html' title='Opus'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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-9134057.post-114609836952390828</id><published>2006-04-26T19:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-27T19:09:03.293-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Women can be Disgusting</title><content type='html'>The secret is out and I can't cover for my gender any longer. Go into any women's bathroom or locker room and the truth will be revealed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Disgusting behavior comes when a woman, the culprit, believes in assured anonymity. I'll try to spare you the most unmentionable details.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Examples from my gym:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;A large wad of hair was seen on the floor of the ladies' locker room. (Dead hair tends to gross me out and make me gag.) Through the gagging reflex, my conscious thought was that some chick had cleaned out her hair brush dumping the remains for everyone to get sick over. &lt;em&gt;Thank you very much.&lt;/em&gt; As I headed out to the weight room, I passed a trash can that also contained another lovely wad of the same color hair. &lt;em&gt;Ugh&lt;/em&gt;. This poor woman was loosing her hair and must have been freaking out to leave behind such evidence on the floor of the locker room and on the top of the trash bin, &lt;em&gt;right?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;During the winter, the ickiest place on earth is the woman's bathroom at the gym. On any given day, toilet paper and a snow mud slush combine together on the bathroom floor making using the bathroom without staying on your tip toes impossible.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Public Bathroom examples in general:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Splatters of urine left on the toilet seat by the squatters&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Paper towels / toilet paper strewn across the floor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;One woman, who muttered an apology as I passed her to enter the one stall bathroom, left such a nasty surprise she herself refuse to flush it. Thank you for leaving me that wonderful task. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;I wonder if I am the only woman to clean the public facilities that I use because of the above behavior.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fellow blogger &lt;a href="http://mopeychick.blogspot.com/"&gt;Mopey Southern Chick&lt;/a&gt; wrote about &lt;a href="http://mopeychick.blogspot.com/2006/04/work-poopers.html"&gt;bathroom humor &lt;/a&gt;today and for a moment I thought she stole my blog idea. While I know there are voices in my head, I am pretty sure she's not one of them. But that's another story for another day...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-114609836952390828?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/114609836952390828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=114609836952390828&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114609836952390828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114609836952390828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/04/women-can-be-disgusting.html' title='Women can be Disgusting'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-114601553998959976</id><published>2006-04-25T20:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-26T17:45:01.986-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Life since Monday</title><content type='html'>I've had a revelation:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;em&gt;really, really &lt;/em&gt;need people in my day to day life. Working from home has not been great for me. Put me in a cubicle environment again and I'm talking my neighbors to death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even if the drive sucks and the gas prices are going to send me to the poor house, I am having fun working along side people again. Hearing the hum of hallway conversations is making me smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even yesterday, bored to tears because I had no computer access, I enjoyed the workplace.&lt;em&gt; I'm so weird. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still trying to figure out my schedule and finding time to do stuff. Maybe soon will write a real post....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life may not continue swimmingly but I think this slice is looking up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-114601553998959976?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/114601553998959976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=114601553998959976&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114601553998959976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114601553998959976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/04/life-since-monday.html' title='Life since Monday'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-114565687216885060</id><published>2006-04-21T16:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-22T05:15:51.056-05:00</updated><title type='text'>New Job</title><content type='html'>Starting Monday, I will no longer be working from home. I have a new job. One that requires a hell of a commute, but is steering me back into my chosen field.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am nervous and excited and a little scared. More excited as I am extricating myself from hermithood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep thinking I will miss some of the home life however. Being able to take a walk outside at any time of the day mainly while the sun is still out, for example. I know as the months wind up to summer this will not be a worry; however, the thought crosses my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or not being able to wear my &lt;a href="http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/03/my-fuzzy-slippers.html"&gt;fuzzy slippers &lt;/a&gt;all day, another example. Yet how often do I wear them all day? Maybe too many days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meeting new people and finding new adventures as I travel a hundred and twenty miles (&lt;em&gt;did I just really verbalize that? Oh thank God. I only wrote it. It still isn't real. Hope the traffic isn't bad.&lt;/em&gt;) are going to be what I look forward to everyday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get to be more organized as I fit in waking up earlier, walking, and blogging every morning. &lt;em&gt;Maybe, I'll blog at night. Maybe I'll exercise at night too. Hmmmm. I have a poetry class starting&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;at night&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;soon. I'll have to change the schedule around on those days.... &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scheduling will take some more thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am still smiling though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-114565687216885060?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/114565687216885060/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=114565687216885060&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114565687216885060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114565687216885060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/04/new-job.html' title='New Job'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-114501789515014864</id><published>2006-04-17T07:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-19T06:16:23.993-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Patriots' Day</title><content type='html'>To make up a snow day, a few years ago, my grad accounting class met Patriots Day afternoon. We had a our midterm coming up and needed the extra session. I had lived in Boston for four months and the dawning of spring seemed like a blessing. This was the first warm week since winter. The windows were open and every few minutes a cheer would break through our professor's lecture. Marathoners were running past.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Patriots' Day was the first holiday that I spent in Boston and the first new holiday to me since I came into this world. I had never celebrated Patriot's Day in Georgia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is a fun day. The Sox are playing. The Marathon is running. No matter what the calendar or the weather says, this day is the definite welcoming of Spring.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-114501789515014864?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/114501789515014864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=114501789515014864&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114501789515014864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114501789515014864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/04/patriots-day.html' title='Patriots&apos; Day'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-114493526955865963</id><published>2006-04-13T08:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-13T08:35:07.940-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Off... Will Return Patriots Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/1600/Peter%20Rabbit.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/320/Peter%20Rabbit.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Bunny Hopping Holiday!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Pesach/Passover!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Easter!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-114493526955865963?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/114493526955865963/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=114493526955865963&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114493526955865963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114493526955865963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/04/im-off-will-return-patriots-day.html' title='I&apos;m Off... Will Return Patriots Day'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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-9134057.post-114486266615281134</id><published>2006-04-12T12:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-19T06:17:44.530-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Midday Walk</title><content type='html'>The sun is pouring radiation down on the river. House windows are gleaming reflecting activity that surrounds them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My eyes squint to see the contractors putting up a new house on the water front. Impulsively I wave. One waves back surprised at the hello from a stranger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A bicyclist passes me with a "nice day" and I smile a yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mommy and me group power walk their strollers. Grandkids are playing on the green.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A guy at the vitamin store is complaining about tax season as I make my purchase that will counter balance some of the junk I place in my mouth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boys are discussing boats unloading for the start of season at the sandwich shop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One business guy is contemplating life along the crowded boardwalk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The river is glistening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Midday joggers are standing waiting for coffee at a local shop while people with laptops are huddled at the tables.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few steps more and I arrive at my door.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-114486266615281134?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/114486266615281134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=114486266615281134&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114486266615281134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114486266615281134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/04/midday-walk.html' title='A Midday Walk'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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-9134057.post-114479487567248531</id><published>2006-04-11T17:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-12T07:37:09.463-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Another One Bites the Dust</title><content type='html'>Dammit. I have heard from the Nigerians again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lost another relative.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The letters I are disturbing. They state a relative has died and Mr. Nealy, the Nigerian representative contacting me, wants to take a portion of my hard earned inheritance and give me only ten percent of it!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's up with that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Granted ten percent of thirty million dollars is still three million.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I understand Mr. Nealy will be handling all the paper work and incurring expense to transfer the money to me. But am I really expected to give Mr. Nealy my bank account number to gain a percentage of some inheritance from a family I did not know I had?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know. I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Nealy is trying to do justice by me and I should cut him a break. I will still receive three million dollars from his hard work and my relatives' dying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am actually very upset with my dead relatives. Why do they feel need to travel to a country where so many wind up dead? Don't they know that Nigeria kills people? I have talked to others and they are also losing relatives left and right in Nigeria.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do not let your relatives, especially the ones you don't know about, under any circumstances travel to Nigeria. They will die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;em&gt; I know everyone gets these emails. Last week was excessive having received three such emails which were extremely upsetting due to the many deaths of non-existent people.***&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-114479487567248531?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/114479487567248531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=114479487567248531&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114479487567248531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114479487567248531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/04/another-one-bites-dust.html' title='Another One Bites the Dust'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-114467837018598298</id><published>2006-04-10T08:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-10T11:52:54.176-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Rock, Paper, Scissors</title><content type='html'>The game is now a sport in Las Vegas?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently yes. Las Vegas held a Rock, Paper, Scissors tournament this past weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went on the web to confirm that the tournament was actually played and to my surprise a Rock Paper Scissors search came up with &lt;em&gt;118,000 links&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh. My. God. You are kidding, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Several RPS, as it called by regional clubs, sites help &lt;a href="http://www.worldrps.com/index1.html"&gt;RPS members become more strategic&lt;/a&gt; at the game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To me, strategy for RPS is kin to having strategy for a coin toss. (&lt;em&gt;and if there is a coin toss strategy - I don't want to know.&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have some fond childhood memories of RPS. Maybe that's why I bought this t-shirt two years ago. &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/1600/Rock%20Paper%20Scissors.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/320/Rock%20Paper%20Scissors.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nah, I just liked the play on words.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-114467837018598298?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/114467837018598298/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=114467837018598298&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114467837018598298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114467837018598298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/04/rock-paper-scissors.html' title='Rock, Paper, Scissors'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-114442048835842711</id><published>2006-04-07T09:01:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-08T06:21:12.836-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tagged - I'm IT</title><content type='html'>I have been tagged by the irrepressible &lt;a href="http://cincysundevil.blogspot.com/"&gt;Cincysundevil&lt;/a&gt;. Everyone should play- a- long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instructions: Go to your music player of choice and put it on shuffle. Say the following questions aloud, and press play. Use the song title as the answer to the question. NO CHEATING.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;How does the world see you?&lt;/span&gt; : &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;The Long Black Veil - the Chieftains&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; - I am not sure I like this game&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Will I have a happy life? :&lt;/span&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Leaving on a Jet Plane (remake) - Me First and The Gimme Gimmes.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/em&gt;- I have no idea what this means.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;What do my friends really think of me? :&lt;/span&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Pump it Up - Elvis Costello&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;/em&gt;Hold on a second I'm dancing now. &lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;What do people secretly think of me? :&lt;/span&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Lay it Down - Magnapop&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;/em&gt;I can only assume this means my neurosis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;How can I be happy?:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Head Over Heals - The Go-Gos -&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/em&gt;Thank God - a happy song - at last.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;What should I do with my life? :&lt;/span&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Monkey Gone to Heaven - The Pixies&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;/em&gt;and down again. Maybe I need a new song list?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Will I ever have children? :&lt;/span&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Still Waiting - Sum 41&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;/em&gt; Now I'm Laughing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;What is some good advice for me? :&lt;/span&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;What I Got - Sublime&lt;/span&gt;- &lt;/em&gt;Excellent!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;How will I be remembered? :&lt;/span&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Let me Blow your Mind - Eve with Gwen Steffani&lt;/span&gt; -&lt;/em&gt; I can live with this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;What is my signature dancing song? :&lt;/span&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Teenage Riot -Sonic Youth&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;/em&gt; Got a beat and I can dance to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;What do I think my current theme song is? :&lt;/span&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Plea from a Cat named Virtue - The Weakerthans-&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/em&gt;considering the above songs and my past year this could be accurate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;What does everyone else think my current theme song is? :&lt;/span&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;They Can't Take that Away from Me - Billie Holiday -&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/em&gt;Only child syndrome, maybe?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;What song will play at my funeral? :&lt;/span&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;You Send Me - Sam Cooke&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/em&gt;- Laughing again!!! Love it. I now insist this be played.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;What type of men/women do you like? :&lt;/span&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Hella Good - No Doubt&lt;/span&gt; -&lt;/em&gt; Yup, Uh huh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;What is my day going to be like? :&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;R.G.S. - Cheap Suits&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;/em&gt;this song puts a smile on my face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I open this to everyone, but I'll tag &lt;a href="http://www.icouldcouldi.blogspot.com/"&gt;Dahli&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://mopeychick.blogspot.com/"&gt;Mopeychick&lt;/a&gt;. I know they don't usually do Memes, but maybe, just maybe....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-114442048835842711?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/114442048835842711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=114442048835842711&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114442048835842711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114442048835842711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/04/tagged-im-it.html' title='Tagged - I&apos;m IT'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-114424030734169981</id><published>2006-04-05T07:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-05T07:33:39.080-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Guest List</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;The Guest List &lt;/em&gt;I thought was a magical thing, a key that would unlock the door to adventures when I was eighteen and worshipped at the alters of guitars and drums.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The music store where I worked allowed me access to &lt;em&gt;the guest list.  &lt;/em&gt;All the guitar and drum brethren were there and some who worshipped the keyboard and the bass. Better, some of the chosen played and happily would place me on &lt;em&gt;the list.  &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I, full of excitement each and every time, put out on the wire to all friends: we are going to a club.  The gang dressed to the nines, a dead giveaway, and headed for the club where &lt;em&gt;the&lt;/em&gt; barrier awaited us. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bouncer, the one man who never understood that we held &lt;em&gt;the key: &lt;/em&gt;we were on &lt;em&gt;the list.   &lt;/em&gt;The doors should spring open and let us through, shouldn't they?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They never did.  Not even when I was a forty year old woman three inches shorter with blue eyes or so my ID told these paragons of bouncerdom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would turn away, denied what I thought was mine, heading with friends to some all- ages place.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-114424030734169981?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/114424030734169981/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=114424030734169981&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114424030734169981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114424030734169981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/04/guest-list.html' title='The Guest List'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-114391036647780197</id><published>2006-04-01T11:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-03T17:48:22.703-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Something's Nutty in the World of Chocolate</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/1600/Payday.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/200/Payday.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;What the ? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Remember when chocolate was chocolate? When Hershey and Snickers stood for candybars that made your teeth rot and would ruin the dinner your mom made? Or when the candybars were just a chocolate fix you had to have? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;No more!!&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/1600/sn_products.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; float: right;" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/320/sn_products.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Now you can get a Payday Pro Energy bar! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Try a the new line of Snickers Marathon bars: an Energy bar, an Energy bar for Women, for you Atkins' lovers - a Low Carb Lifestyle bar, or a Performance Protein bar. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Now while chewing each cardboard bite(I actually haven't tried these brands, but from research into other "performance bars" most taste icky.), you can make believe that you are eating that sinful candybar. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(Ok, maybe the point chocolate companies are making is they can make 'health' bars taste good.)&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;In reality, would I buy a 'health' bar from a candy company? Only if I wanted to pretend that I was eating something healthy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;But I can pretend I am eating healthy with a regular chocolate bar. Milk chocolate has vitamin D, calcium, and iron. Dark chocolate has anti-oxidants. Chocolate with nuts has....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-114391036647780197?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/114391036647780197/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=114391036647780197&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114391036647780197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114391036647780197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/04/somethings-nutty-in-world-of-chocolate.html' title='Something&apos;s Nutty in the World of Chocolate'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-114390607818557623</id><published>2006-04-01T10:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-03T08:14:11.966-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Singing .... Walking in the Rain</title><content type='html'>'Anyone who lives in the Northeast that does not take advantage of this weather by getting the hell outdoors has to be sick or a vampire. '&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was my thought this morning after completing my walk and rewarding myself with a French Toast bagel. I was walking towards home lost in these thoughts when I ran into an old work friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walked with her to get her morning muffin while catching up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rain began. Not a cold rain that has you scurrying but a summer rain. A rain that's nice to walk in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend headed back to her home and I started walking back toward mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love walking in the rain when the weather is warm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course I looked like I drowned when I walked through my door. Still I have my paper, my coffee, and now the sun has come out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time to walk again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-114390607818557623?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/114390607818557623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=114390607818557623&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114390607818557623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114390607818557623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/04/singing-walking-in-rain.html' title='Singing .... Walking in the Rain'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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-9134057.post-114381826484652407</id><published>2006-03-31T10:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-31T10:49:03.330-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A new friend</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/1600/nwbypta.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/200/nwbypta.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Took a break from work to walk down by the water. I was sitting on the water's edge contemplating life and sunshine when a little boy sat down beside me. His grandfather was right behind him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kid pointed out the ducks and seagulls swimming on the river. He was excited by boats speeding by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When his grandfather suggested that they continue walking, the little boy grabbed my hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walked with them down to the Coast Guard station that sits on the river where I needed to say goodbye and get back to work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-114381826484652407?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/114381826484652407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=114381826484652407&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114381826484652407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114381826484652407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/03/new-friend.html' title='A new friend'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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-9134057.post-114381070513842128</id><published>2006-03-31T07:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-02T08:47:21.376-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Boys of Summer</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/1600/smoltz.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 182px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 139px" height="145" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/200/smoltz.jpg" width="182" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/1600/Zambrano.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/200/Zambrano.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4677/652/200/Schilling.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Around the country Opening Day is this weekend. My favorite teams' pitchers are above in honor of the occassion that kicks off the best season of the year: baseball season!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-114381070513842128?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/114381070513842128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=114381070513842128&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114381070513842128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114381070513842128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/03/boys-of-summer.html' title='The Boys of Summer'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-114365325381293154</id><published>2006-03-29T12:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-29T15:57:23.836-05:00</updated><title type='text'>God it really isn't funny</title><content type='html'>Dear God,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While you might think some things are funny, they're not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After flying in to John Wayne airport, being super dehydrated from the plane, and dead tired, I know you challenged Irvinians to hide all ATMs from visitors. You know I needed cash to get my Peanut Butter, Honey, and Banana sandwich from the Shake Shack at Crystal Cove.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there was the time you had the lady at Hertz give me a Taurus knowing Fords have the most flawed cup holder design in the world. It took me a half an hour to find the damn thing to put my coffee in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, it would have been faster driving across McArthur with the coffee cup in my lap on my way to the office. But we all know that is why McDonalds was sued. I don't particularly want to have second degree burns on my legs because I could not find a cup holder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your attempts at humor were not limited to my trips out to California either. There was the time I did the Poo Poo dance while hiking up the side of mountain 'cause I drank Soy Milk that morning. Don't think I didn't hear you laughing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was the time I fell down the steps while talking about boys with friends. My butt was bruised for a month!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your humor needs an update God. At least when it comes to me. Can we take me out of the Keystone Cop era? I am tired of doing pratfalls for your amusement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have another point of contention to discuss with you, my neurosis. Yes, I thought you made me slightly neurotic to help satisfy your unending need for laughter. But I am damn neurotic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How did I not know this until now? What else are you hiding from me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can we discuss my need to solve all the world's puzzles? I mean the mental ones. If I start receiving jigsaw puzzles as Christmas gifts, I am heading to the other side; the Southern Baptists. I'm not bluffing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also why can't I accept some things as they are? Some of it is a mental game and keeps me sharp. i.e. trying to fix blogger's posting from Word that changes all my apostrophes into question marks. You know I am going to attempt to fix it without getting instructions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's keep my neurosis down to a minimum, and I'll shelve the humor discussion for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Michelle&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks &lt;a href="http://voixdemichele.blogspot.com/"&gt;Voix de Michele&lt;/a&gt; for giving me the idea to play with this style.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-114365325381293154?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/114365325381293154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=114365325381293154&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114365325381293154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114365325381293154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/03/god-it-really-isnt-funny.html' title='God it really isn&apos;t funny'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134057.post-114363711494273491</id><published>2006-03-29T07:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-02T22:59:24.613-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Science of Breathing</title><content type='html'>Breathe in. Breathe out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stressed. I breathe faster, shallow.&lt;br /&gt;The world is spinning too fast for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Relaxed, I breathe slower, rhythmic.&lt;br /&gt;Wisdom are my actions and motions&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not finding my breath, the world ceases to exist&lt;br /&gt;I work solely on substaining a breath.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Breathe in. Breathe out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Breathing is voluntary motion and&lt;br /&gt;Apathy is my abhorrence.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-114363711494273491?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/114363711494273491/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=114363711494273491&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114363711494273491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114363711494273491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/03/science-of-breathing.html' title='The Science of Breathing'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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-9134057.post-114356863999256583</id><published>2006-03-28T12:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-28T18:31:11.416-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Whirling Dervish</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://cincysundevil.blogspot.com/"&gt;Cincysundevil&lt;/a&gt; made a suggestion that a music list of new artists be started.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I agree with him. All of us are head over heals about some new artist. Why not post it somewhere?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not sure of the essential hows and wheres, but I do think it is a great idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've made a list of some of the stations I listen to and some of the music blogs out there. &lt;em&gt;There are ton. &lt;/em&gt;I don't want to start a music blog per se but just get a feel for a few bands that are others are listening to without wading through the ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I listen to everything. I mean everything, but my roots lie in punk ska and alternative. SO if you are browsing through the list on the sidebar, you'll have some idea of where these places will take you. ( I say that as I am listening to Coltrane. You never know. )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm adding suggested artists to the list as I get them. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9134057-114356863999256583?l=totw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/feeds/114356863999256583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9134057&amp;postID=114356863999256583&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114356863999256583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9134057/posts/default/114356863999256583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://totw.blogspot.com/2006/03/whirling-dervish.html' title='The Whirling Dervish'/><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01340998221515209248</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>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
