tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52513761642726566382023-11-16T07:13:00.462-05:00Addicted to ObsessionIt's one thing or another, but I'm obsessed with it. Can you keep up?Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09786892940815298616noreply@blogger.comBlogger58125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251376164272656638.post-29221090575452263112012-10-10T22:32:00.001-04:002012-10-10T22:32:43.178-04:00Time for a New Pen!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09786892940815298616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251376164272656638.post-22610383422851902752011-07-18T22:44:00.000-04:002011-07-18T22:44:50.561-04:00My Dad's Imperfect Timing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Once upon a time, while visiting my parents' house and watching Family Feud...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigfrix7uEXnypINXyakxHb3dFYjsq8co2gyPuuxSbyQETLJmKeOiilUxhXBkFrypVx8MWhNP-qis6Eq8eBue1HHVV8QcPWg4fmyKXyh873S4SlCRQ8n-ii1lT9bZfJNf1806uOkSTOxIOZ/s1600/potbelly+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigfrix7uEXnypINXyakxHb3dFYjsq8co2gyPuuxSbyQETLJmKeOiilUxhXBkFrypVx8MWhNP-qis6Eq8eBue1HHVV8QcPWg4fmyKXyh873S4SlCRQ8n-ii1lT9bZfJNf1806uOkSTOxIOZ/s320/potbelly+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGT2DatgPtEDTW8pgpxEMNW0VImZg595o2Y0Q8cJflBZzt7tHV9Ir7QVCgy3DBUTa9JOUNP8cT-a3pnpOsS0Yf2t5LOe9eJSHr7ZkSjc8xUaVi6tU2wGtHgIomv1MkhPaXtw1nXDkd-fAU/s1600/potbelly+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGT2DatgPtEDTW8pgpxEMNW0VImZg595o2Y0Q8cJflBZzt7tHV9Ir7QVCgy3DBUTa9JOUNP8cT-a3pnpOsS0Yf2t5LOe9eJSHr7ZkSjc8xUaVi6tU2wGtHgIomv1MkhPaXtw1nXDkd-fAU/s320/potbelly+4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09786892940815298616noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251376164272656638.post-34405183837776934982011-06-26T00:01:00.000-04:002011-06-26T00:01:56.730-04:00There are perks to being a girl.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIZtV3wT9HS2WuJVj6KWeXwzYkRKr0K6VXBE6C6iUECQdJvDxoyK38VYqTLFusQkas1G3W15bib2-UjAphziK7X9UUiNROfWSU7t6Xwr45De6BzkprXxLFWc7tukUTgm9SGHaaNuE-oLbK/s1600/kegels1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIZtV3wT9HS2WuJVj6KWeXwzYkRKr0K6VXBE6C6iUECQdJvDxoyK38VYqTLFusQkas1G3W15bib2-UjAphziK7X9UUiNROfWSU7t6Xwr45De6BzkprXxLFWc7tukUTgm9SGHaaNuE-oLbK/s320/kegels1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil_Ffw1qQJhDBjvFDSj1Fq4wVNHkoD8zA1rUWGxl7A2dQgyDoZux47S50Kn0tifbFHYCAklS3SDbY5vYxYJU3DACxWLv4aWDMNSK20EgEIBz-SrrEqu84xrt5mVSF_yoy0VKvB2K77lYLq/s1600/kegels2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil_Ffw1qQJhDBjvFDSj1Fq4wVNHkoD8zA1rUWGxl7A2dQgyDoZux47S50Kn0tifbFHYCAklS3SDbY5vYxYJU3DACxWLv4aWDMNSK20EgEIBz-SrrEqu84xrt5mVSF_yoy0VKvB2K77lYLq/s320/kegels2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I have mad art skills.</div>Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09786892940815298616noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251376164272656638.post-7800590889994414892011-05-28T23:29:00.000-04:002011-05-28T23:29:10.649-04:00Waiting for "The Signal"<span style="color: #20124d;">Yeah, I've been AWOL for a bit. Lots of stuff happening in the way of man-cow patties (BS). I've been distracting myself with reality t.v. late at night when I can't sleep. I've actually gotten into The Voice, and have been staring at Blake Shelton each episode wondering why he looks so familiar... I finally realize where I've seen him:</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5EmIHj3A6NF0F3_QZH9NjAx4IJyQq0bSkf7-ZXi5gSxSAQup1br97EmomF5f-qe2NzoBNJfkVIDYPXHL5TmP6J4wlgQTlDJyQK-Cq6-t7lofomEoT8uoYQ80sPpSaDeGJzIEoY41A_nSj/s1600/Blake-Shelton-The-Voice.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5EmIHj3A6NF0F3_QZH9NjAx4IJyQq0bSkf7-ZXi5gSxSAQup1br97EmomF5f-qe2NzoBNJfkVIDYPXHL5TmP6J4wlgQTlDJyQK-Cq6-t7lofomEoT8uoYQ80sPpSaDeGJzIEoY41A_nSj/s200/Blake-Shelton-The-Voice.jpg" width="200" /></a></div> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFbgQ7cXX4Did0EjPx_CJ7WRiOzCHk6lhyqJjGDQy0p4jR8rtf154MYIWB9S0lGcBfoPmGSjUUOCTmWHc-9ZmFe4UbPMUKisBf2dMrbpzPuiC1mN7P8qgjZ5pJUThInCcZJQAUE6pDqTOl/s1600/thesignal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFbgQ7cXX4Did0EjPx_CJ7WRiOzCHk6lhyqJjGDQy0p4jR8rtf154MYIWB9S0lGcBfoPmGSjUUOCTmWHc-9ZmFe4UbPMUKisBf2dMrbpzPuiC1mN7P8qgjZ5pJUThInCcZJQAUE6pDqTOl/s1600/thesignal.jpg" /></a><br />
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<span style="color: #0c343d;">I keep waiting for him to give The Signal now. *titter*</span>Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09786892940815298616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251376164272656638.post-7498256558137386092011-04-16T23:14:00.000-04:002011-04-16T23:14:48.905-04:00Humuhumunukunukuapua'a<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVoXp2KbYgGEzHnUwRFkFnFlsc_DLTQ8naBS-2hJJVX2DFvwmhhWmgy7AMouPYVlCjWsbrYb4prXjlvEZKoYc7-l016KhGrTQIzSj7N0zLM9j5fug-ljJ71627lgYlkN0D1nwGTP7Z8aHE/s1600/hawaii_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVoXp2KbYgGEzHnUwRFkFnFlsc_DLTQ8naBS-2hJJVX2DFvwmhhWmgy7AMouPYVlCjWsbrYb4prXjlvEZKoYc7-l016KhGrTQIzSj7N0zLM9j5fug-ljJ71627lgYlkN0D1nwGTP7Z8aHE/s320/hawaii_1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="color: #351c75;">I don't travel well, I know that, and good heavens I'll have to take my babies with me because I miss them when I go to the grocery store. BUT I WANT TO GO TO HAWAII SOOOOO BAAAAADLY. I love the culture. I love the music. I love the tattoos and swaying hips and booming drums. This is #1 on my bucket list. I have to go to Hawaii. I need to save up some money and get there. Yesterday! It's time!</span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;">Honestly, I don't even know what I'd do when I get there. I would definitely attend a luau. And probably take a hula lesson. I'm not a surfer. I'm not a sun-bather. I don't actually like tours all that much. I kind of just want to walk on the beach and breath in the air. Let my hair down and let it get all curly and beachy and put flowers in it. As Liz Lemon says, "I want to go to there."</span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;">I'm not a traveler, but I'm about to be. It's time to start practicing. Even if it's just an overnight somewhere in Toronto. I have to get to the point where I can make Hawaii happen for me. Well before it falls into the ocean. </span>Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09786892940815298616noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251376164272656638.post-83174398850008926902011-03-03T23:17:00.000-05:002011-03-03T23:17:54.377-05:00It's Not You, It's Me. No, It's You, Too.I'm kind of sad. I think I'm going through a break-up. Not with my husband - we're pretty great, actually. But with a friend who I thought I was close to and it turns out I've been kidding myself.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO2lxFp_4Lg05t0A9f44ISuDP9aSienloNLo9UUloHYqc0XWF8JbF9dVrnmyOcJcHd48D56SizXOsLLiIIn0MjD51bDg8gV9mBDmIN7zP79MbbkIIPvYbn97zzeZFfXtg0ointHON6CDV7/s1600/brokenheart.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="185" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO2lxFp_4Lg05t0A9f44ISuDP9aSienloNLo9UUloHYqc0XWF8JbF9dVrnmyOcJcHd48D56SizXOsLLiIIn0MjD51bDg8gV9mBDmIN7zP79MbbkIIPvYbn97zzeZFfXtg0ointHON6CDV7/s200/brokenheart.gif" width="200" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">It's a weird situation (to me, anyway). We get along well, still talk to each other, but I don't really want to see her and she apparently doesn't want to keep me in the loop (I've been moved to the limited profile on FB). Our letters are more like tweets: short, one-liners that get to the gist. I only ask how she's doing to be polite. She does the same.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">My problem is letting her go. I don't really want to, because there's a history there and it just feels wrong, but I'm happier when we aren't talking and I can tell myself that things are just like they were long ago. I also feel a twinge of jealousy when I can see she's close to someone else. See? It makes no sense. I don't need her around, I don't miss her, and I feel like a liar when I talk to her like nothing is wrong, but I just can't sever the tie. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>I'm really confused, and that disturbs me. Relationships really mess with your head. Even platonic ones.Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09786892940815298616noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251376164272656638.post-22395060977746505132011-02-18T22:17:00.000-05:002011-02-18T22:17:35.622-05:00Don't read this<span style="color: #444444;">Each night, I'm bombarded with shop talk when my husband gets home. I decided that if I have to suffer through it, I am going to share. Keep in mind, this is just a taste. It goes on for hours. And then I get to hear it all again when he gets together with friends and family.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444; font-size: x-small;"><i>Dear hubby: I am here for you and happy to be a sounding board. But I need to be able to laugh about it or you're going to make my hair fall out. xoxo</i></span>Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09786892940815298616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251376164272656638.post-71208132588507744942011-02-06T02:34:00.000-05:002011-02-06T02:34:34.361-05:00Fitness, the Easy Way<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd8Mb3wLbAk6m16JUsAorusXxnXHFsxm4lhVSl2VkTTgE_2yheyjkTa0Kmkgoj7f0Zpm4IwlY57B7nJ-Mnpnh6v2PzokdAl3lXfFKbsXMWk8pkk0PjSVR91ZWexDNGHwjzzMp2ZJgyhP-T/s1600/MC900382600%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd8Mb3wLbAk6m16JUsAorusXxnXHFsxm4lhVSl2VkTTgE_2yheyjkTa0Kmkgoj7f0Zpm4IwlY57B7nJ-Mnpnh6v2PzokdAl3lXfFKbsXMWk8pkk0PjSVR91ZWexDNGHwjzzMp2ZJgyhP-T/s200/MC900382600%255B1%255D.jpg" width="142" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Lately, I've been obsessed with fitness. I've made a commitment to work out every day, even if just a little, and I've found it surprisingly easy to keep to it (dieting, however, is another beast entirely). Not everyone has the drive/determination/freedom to set aside time to exercise though, and I get that. But exercise doesn't mean only lunges and push ups... I'll bet if you're a mother of young kids you can find ample opportunities for a great work out! For instance, just going shopping is a fantastic one:</div><br />
<strong>Warm Up:</strong><br />
Running all over the house trying to find the keys.<br />
<em>Add a boost:</em> squeeze your tush as you climb those stairs!<br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><strong>Arms:</strong></div>Carrying a young child in one arm and a diaper bag on the other.<br />
<em>Add a boost:</em> try to keep the kid at eye level, and stuff the diaper bag with water bottles and snacks!<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWUuKeG1xFVjII_1e5hR7mDplT80eYxGWi3TJ0Sa-dSeSDdGZg1hooAu-y8BigAvjK05n-Zx3wMu_VGB7Wa4sYFOeaT3F3nJ0Msjo-zps_FTGaeEYR3oH-oB7pgIZ5B5hy8V8kJ6ePG0t0/s1600/MC900433840%255B1%255D.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWUuKeG1xFVjII_1e5hR7mDplT80eYxGWi3TJ0Sa-dSeSDdGZg1hooAu-y8BigAvjK05n-Zx3wMu_VGB7Wa4sYFOeaT3F3nJ0Msjo-zps_FTGaeEYR3oH-oB7pgIZ5B5hy8V8kJ6ePG0t0/s1600/MC900433840%255B1%255D.png" /></a><br />
<br />
<strong>Legs:</strong><br />
Bending down to pick up the groceries your child has tossed out of the cart.<br />
<em>Add a boost:</em> do deep lunges or squats when picking up!<br />
<br />
<strong>Abs:</strong><br />
Coughing fit ensues as you look at the price of old cheddar. Dang, that stuff's expensive!<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><em>Add a boost:</em> Laugh heartily when your child asks if she can have the chocolate frosted sugar bombs.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><strong>Cardio:</strong></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Easy - walking around the store. No one said you have to be huffing and puffing for the benefits.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><em>Add a boost:</em> let your kid out of the cart. See kid run. See mom run. Run, mom, run!</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">If you consider getting home and putting away the groceries a cooldown/stretch, voila! Your workout is complete! </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><em><span style="font-size: x-small;">Can you think of other daily activities that double as workouts? I'd love to hear them!</span></em></div>Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09786892940815298616noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251376164272656638.post-77355966683929515902011-01-24T20:14:00.000-05:002011-01-24T20:14:20.554-05:00A Punch in the FaceThe time I have always dreaded has finally come - some kid has started to bully D1. She has been mentioning this "mean boy" at school for a while now, but last week alarm bells rang when she confided in me that he threatened to punch her in the face if she didn't get out of his way.<br />
<br />
Now my first instinct was to find the kid and clock him. Clearly I was overreacting, because, after all, the boy is only 6. But saying out loud to yourself that someone, anyone, has threatened to hurt your child is enough to make any parent's blood boil, especially when she is afraid to do something as simple as go to her cubby.<br />
<br />
I went through all the appropriate steps: I talked to the teacher and made sure she took the situation seriously. She moved the kid's cubby away from D1's (and her friend's, who was afflicted with the same problem). She promised to talk to the students about telling a trusted adult when they are frightened or uncomfortable. I was happy about those solutions.<br />
<br />
... but I have to admit that I told D1 that if that kid ever threatened her again, she is allowed to punch him, right in the face.Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09786892940815298616noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251376164272656638.post-45140466472603232882011-01-08T21:51:00.000-05:002011-01-08T21:51:14.951-05:00How a Man Helps<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDVY4RwDZl7hQu4DlirxEHKw8he0mMuk-pTmvb3Z8oDsghE4i5jcDKLLqRF71ZEwQlL09w5QxtJ6lJVuxB_Ekgi4CUayxudZXApWrnIb-0JBXsR8ZbG76B7yoMOHnlXWUxBKCaB1zn_TW9/s1600/ouch.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDVY4RwDZl7hQu4DlirxEHKw8he0mMuk-pTmvb3Z8oDsghE4i5jcDKLLqRF71ZEwQlL09w5QxtJ6lJVuxB_Ekgi4CUayxudZXApWrnIb-0JBXsR8ZbG76B7yoMOHnlXWUxBKCaB1zn_TW9/s320/ouch.gif" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg91Gt-umgvIqBVkNTpxceJ-igR2shKasrXcqPU_nfzEFl9dTp_Hx8cRnHipY0BEugIgIoBZr72iIYhDJnL2el9GByYeyEN-dXxse_A2QiLetUBAfPjuZP9pZTwtDK50BufB_8syZ4MxeMC/s1600/ouch2.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg91Gt-umgvIqBVkNTpxceJ-igR2shKasrXcqPU_nfzEFl9dTp_Hx8cRnHipY0BEugIgIoBZr72iIYhDJnL2el9GByYeyEN-dXxse_A2QiLetUBAfPjuZP9pZTwtDK50BufB_8syZ4MxeMC/s320/ouch2.gif" width="320" /></a></div>Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09786892940815298616noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251376164272656638.post-32519221756470924882011-01-02T00:56:00.000-05:002011-01-02T00:56:58.911-05:00PunchlineI always seem to walk into a room right at the punchline of a joke. People start laughing loudly at it, but it makes no sense to me! What a weird situation to be in. Do you laugh along with everyone? Do you pretend you didn't hear the punchline at all? What if you are the first to laugh, after just having walked in? <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ0giiVVtYcqxbelVk98QoP1WN9FfrHtXAhhMtUByms8HurqNPm2Bc4BiMne77VjjqwNMH6hz-YA8xvrAhddCJWJIssZJaCvEKCw-ocWsBQAO13VTnPLPRzdOecJzndgWRbup_63zAbFa7/s1600/Punchline.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ0giiVVtYcqxbelVk98QoP1WN9FfrHtXAhhMtUByms8HurqNPm2Bc4BiMne77VjjqwNMH6hz-YA8xvrAhddCJWJIssZJaCvEKCw-ocWsBQAO13VTnPLPRzdOecJzndgWRbup_63zAbFa7/s320/Punchline.gif" width="320" /></a></div>Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09786892940815298616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251376164272656638.post-47121147223772369702010-12-26T08:25:00.000-05:002010-12-26T08:25:49.442-05:00Merry Christmas!Okay, so I'm not the best at thinking on the fly...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXI2N9SrYFsspzTfiRh_bG1RTw1IxBiRLIRDW9KLBK3GXij08KucFqmH-fOoYDwPNlVGO1uEJKKFi-4zOT7f42CO6VjWOfEifPQef8EUt-9eE8w9cD0mAxsKymIiy3pjMsyBqOiKUnszI6/s1600/Christmas10.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="286" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXI2N9SrYFsspzTfiRh_bG1RTw1IxBiRLIRDW9KLBK3GXij08KucFqmH-fOoYDwPNlVGO1uEJKKFi-4zOT7f42CO6VjWOfEifPQef8EUt-9eE8w9cD0mAxsKymIiy3pjMsyBqOiKUnszI6/s320/Christmas10.gif" width="320" /></a></div>Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09786892940815298616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251376164272656638.post-17798158279662254782010-12-22T22:00:00.000-05:002010-12-22T22:00:38.184-05:00Not a great post - my mind's on food.I've been on "vacation" (read: holiday lay-off) since the 18th, and I decided that this year I will do my best to lose 7 lbs. in 14 days. It's now the 22nd and I realize how impossible that is for me. However, I think I might be able to get through the holidays without gaining the 12 lbs. <a href="http://www.drphil.com/">Dr. Phil</a> says most of us will pack on. How, you ask?<br />
<br />
<blockquote><u>My plan:</u><br />
Work out for 20 minutes every day<br />
Take measurements every day<br />
Weigh myself every day</blockquote><br />
Why am I doing these things every day? Although I was told that it is terrible to measure your progress every day because of the natural fluctuations in your body, I want to measure every day as a reminder of my goal! Ahem, my <i>new</i> goal of not gaining weight. So far, I think I've done well enough. I've learned a couple of things already:<br />
<ul><li>I <i>do</i> have time to work out, as long as I don't expect more than 15 minutes at a time, ever. I've been doing it during the kids' bathtime.</li>
<li>My measurements are all over the place - the fluctuations are funny. Either I'm doing it wrong or I gain/lose a quarter inch each day, not to mention a few pounds at a time!</li>
<li>Working out makes me <i>ravenous</i>. I could eat all. the. time.</li>
</ul>Speaking of which, I'm hungry. But it's bedtime. Aw, heck, I'll work it off tomorrow. Time for a bedtime snack!Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09786892940815298616noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251376164272656638.post-17007285242537427702010-12-11T22:20:00.000-05:002010-12-11T22:20:55.150-05:00Gifting from the Inside OutEvery Christmas season, I get the blues. I experience anxiety from the excitement of gift-giving and my birthday, and I end up feeling down and out, with an urge to stay in bed and pull the covers over my head until the normalcy of January returns.<br />
<br />
This year, those feelings are minimal. I think I have found the cure for my Christmas Blues: charity.<br />
<br />
In previous years, I fretted over getting a perfect gift for acquaintances and coworkers. This year, after shopping online for what felt like hours, I settled on buying each person a <a href="http://www.oxfamunwrapped.ca/">chicken</a>. After clicking the "checkout" button, I felt my heart skip. That wasn't the normal pang I get from Buyer's Remorse... it was happiness! Omigosh, I felt <i>great</i>! Not only was my gift perfect, it was helpful and not at all wasteful! Score!<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnMeaQEVy5rOzS3uGUdt0NLDCLDvlfHG4n68qnkh3jYNy9B24ZUiWp7HgIqfmRHIkgyewvgi7xMLvm3nkM4Sm0olaNywvP_Mdb2LhYoawuX16hwHkDyRDKDQmY5V6ApSfyiBrEoepH58jY/s1600/chicken.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnMeaQEVy5rOzS3uGUdt0NLDCLDvlfHG4n68qnkh3jYNy9B24ZUiWp7HgIqfmRHIkgyewvgi7xMLvm3nkM4Sm0olaNywvP_Mdb2LhYoawuX16hwHkDyRDKDQmY5V6ApSfyiBrEoepH58jY/s320/chicken.gif" width="320" /></a>In addition to gifting livestock, I have found that focusing on others really helps with my birthday anxiety. I'm having so much fun this season by making people around me feel special and important - exactly the way I thought I was entitled to feel on my birthday. Everyone, this is <i>way </i>better. I complimented the cashier on her earrings. I talked to the quiet lady in the waiting room. I asked the elderly man how he was, and I listened to the answer. I found something nice to say to random people, and got smiles in return.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPvEKe2jwpkdsDCRu_mtKNAq8gQZPg6vXv2iMBqeOj8S_40DIpeN60p0PRx9R-R7JUkYpuE5lmI_dBJf2aPZojFNksFUJpjGnZA_FiM_9n04J6Gm5XOdSHS8Gvtt4hpm_Ludg0bvedtUr7/s1600/hug.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPvEKe2jwpkdsDCRu_mtKNAq8gQZPg6vXv2iMBqeOj8S_40DIpeN60p0PRx9R-R7JUkYpuE5lmI_dBJf2aPZojFNksFUJpjGnZA_FiM_9n04J6Gm5XOdSHS8Gvtt4hpm_Ludg0bvedtUr7/s200/hug.gif" width="200" /></a><br />
Bonus: I found out people are really interesting. And some people really have a chip on their shoulders, but I'm glad they're not wasting my time.<br />
<br />
This year, finally, I'm starting to get it. It only took 3 decades, but for once, it really is the season to be jolly! Happy holidays, everyone! {{<i>hug</i>}}<br />
<br />
p.s. This post really made me seem like I was a very shallow person. I'm actually quite shy, but I'm ignoring that fact as I come out of my comfort zone. I do care about people, and always have. I'm just showing it now.<br />
p.p.s. If I ever made you feel bad and struck you as a shallow person, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it.Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09786892940815298616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251376164272656638.post-84300495240148887742010-12-04T23:43:00.000-05:002010-12-04T23:43:24.823-05:00A Shake-Your-Head MomentThis just reinforces my hatred of hot dogs, and my opinion that the restroom should not be so close to the kitchen. Once upon a time, in my office...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHeuKQg3UBTFx1Vpc7e6HMGC3eUhOodX4BDN1ilZKedUSAlJhnDX6Ke679vu7mBVTZI_VafbQakp0PktLIHHY_CL8NC2or__8aFmwv2b9JlZTo9pQ2kxnMjUmWeBf7CDKXM3KDoARM-IsH/s1600/hotdogcomment.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHeuKQg3UBTFx1Vpc7e6HMGC3eUhOodX4BDN1ilZKedUSAlJhnDX6Ke679vu7mBVTZI_VafbQakp0PktLIHHY_CL8NC2or__8aFmwv2b9JlZTo9pQ2kxnMjUmWeBf7CDKXM3KDoARM-IsH/s640/hotdogcomment.bmp" width="420" /></a></div>Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09786892940815298616noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251376164272656638.post-34429927743147969642010-12-04T23:22:00.000-05:002010-12-04T23:22:51.810-05:00Loosen up, Buttercup.<div style="color: #134f5c;">I work in a facility that has a Social Committee. I know, gag me, too. But, in the name of politics, I play nice, pay my fee, and participate like a good employee. One thing I just can't seem to do with my coworkers, though, is loosen up.</div><div style="color: #134f5c;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #134f5c;">I'm not sure what the mental barrier is, but when I'm outside of my designated work area but still around my coworkers, I shut up. I'm talking bona fide wallflower material. I smile politely, nod when appropriate, and titter at all of the jokes, even the ones I don't get. That's pretty much as far as I go.</div><div style="color: #134f5c;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #134f5c;">It turns out my behaviour is not going unnoticed. My boss quipped that he suspects I may be writing down what others say in case I need it for revenge or blackmail one day. Not a bad idea, but it's not true (yet). </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #134f5c; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdWLJEarZtjrmZHouyAeswoF_vZjMRklYe3JQsHM92of9i8iFibzPjFSQ3BqUVaWSnPAKerZeOp-w8waCD1VCmYYCo2tSmCEVtul8XV52X3BrH7R6Q05Iiw9-pCJ1imvYyJUN_fJudUi5Y/s1600/coworkers.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdWLJEarZtjrmZHouyAeswoF_vZjMRklYe3JQsHM92of9i8iFibzPjFSQ3BqUVaWSnPAKerZeOp-w8waCD1VCmYYCo2tSmCEVtul8XV52X3BrH7R6Q05Iiw9-pCJ1imvYyJUN_fJudUi5Y/s400/coworkers.bmp" width="400" /></a></div><div style="color: #134f5c;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #134f5c;">Truth is, I've been under the impression that one needs to have a personal life and a professional life, and the two should <i>never</i> mix. I don't know where I got that from, but I've always behaved that way. Should I let my boss know what I really think of that one annoying client? Hells no! Do my workmates need to see me shake my fanny in any fashion? Nuh-uh. Do I even <i>like </i>these people for who they are? Some of them. I really hate the others.</div><div style="color: #134f5c;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #134f5c;">Am I being shy? Yes. Am I being guarded? Yes. Am I covering my ass? Yes. Am I also a snob who is picky about who gets to see the real, nerdy me? Yup.</div><div style="color: #134f5c;"><br />
</div><span style="color: #134f5c;">If you've ever heard my baby-scaring guffaw, feel privileged. You're in my good books. If not, I probably work with you.</span>Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09786892940815298616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251376164272656638.post-75056899810951111912010-11-11T22:36:00.000-05:002010-11-11T22:36:00.792-05:00The Santa Bill"What are you asking Santa for?" I asked my daughter recently. Like many a mother, I'm taking the direct approach with regards to making a Christmas list.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUEi2j2uz95SggJrj_VdNyvcP60rf05w_dDcTF4FIBG13OdtTUZ6zqFjyaYE4vul0hZnhQ4a2Hy3fvT-M1F7QzFsazcxjqBh1lfZfc-cCBu3BXU5jBSYsk0e24CpsiX_reX9ckANBzH5wa/s1600/leonie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUEi2j2uz95SggJrj_VdNyvcP60rf05w_dDcTF4FIBG13OdtTUZ6zqFjyaYE4vul0hZnhQ4a2Hy3fvT-M1F7QzFsazcxjqBh1lfZfc-cCBu3BXU5jBSYsk0e24CpsiX_reX9ckANBzH5wa/s200/leonie.jpg" width="105" /></a><br />
"These dolls. They're so beautiful, and I think I want all of them." She was looking at a <a href="http://www.maplelea.com/meet_girls_product.php">Maplelea Girls</a> catalogue that her father let her peruse. Apparently, dads don't understand the power of suggestion. Alas, that's a separate rant entirely.<br />
<br />
Maplelea Girls are $100 a piece! As much as I love my little girl, there is no way I can afford to get her one of those, let alone the 5 she was asking for.<br />
<br />
"Gee, those are a bit pricey, don't you think?"<br />
<br />
"Don't worry, Mom. I'm asking Santa, not you!" Sigh. And it starts.<br />
<br />
Now, maybe I suffered from a Bad Mommy Moment, but I couldn't stop myself from making a desperate attempt to nip the Santa Gimmes in the bud (yes, you nip things in the bud, not the butt. Well, <i>I</i> don't go around nipping butts, anyhow). Where was I? Geez, these asides really run my train of thought off the track.<br />
OH, yes. She mentions the fact that Santa's getting her list, not me. So I immediately launch my counter-attack: The Santa Bill.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjols0HTBkjfhDUrj_c_7YGaMKnlrBWensYONYgx_QnoMe2MtJn6onO8BaWQdv1KvCV5Zx8oeBezK4DTDCMdesDNj4jC5zW4NFaVsuBTIFjrNc3mitb0nO4r-qCIW0pXi3YVziQZ9VAVJqP/s1600/santashocked.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjols0HTBkjfhDUrj_c_7YGaMKnlrBWensYONYgx_QnoMe2MtJn6onO8BaWQdv1KvCV5Zx8oeBezK4DTDCMdesDNj4jC5zW4NFaVsuBTIFjrNc3mitb0nO4r-qCIW0pXi3YVziQZ9VAVJqP/s200/santashocked.jpg" width="148" /></a>"Sweetie, it's very kind of you not to expect me to buy you a gazillion dollars worth of dolls, but perhaps you didn't realize that, although Santa might bring you the toys you want, someone has to foot the bill, and that person would be me." After explaining to her what "foot the bill" means, I explained to her that Santa's charity only goes so far. He has to pay for his upkeep, and the elves are more widely accepted in society now so they are more integrated than before which means they need some green to get by. The world population has multiplied exponentially since the time The Night Before Christmas was written, and the North Pole has shrunk, so really, the same amount of workers are trying to manufacture a lot more product in less time with less resources, which means they're using better quality and more efficient equipment that probably has to be maintained and/or replaced annually, if not more often. In light of these and other supporting facts, Santa is now billing parents for what he deems "excessive requests" at his discretion.<br />
<br />
Oh, yes, I went on for minutes that might have seemed like hours to my daughter. When I finally stopped, she looked at me glassily and said, "Fine. I just want a School Set."<br />
<br />
Oh, crap. Move over, Christmas Bill Panic. Guilt is coming to take over. I'm going to have to get her one of those dolls, aren't I?Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09786892940815298616noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251376164272656638.post-28460698554568283122010-10-31T13:54:00.000-04:002010-10-31T13:54:06.287-04:00The Last of the Booksy, plus a Hallowe'en secret<u><i><span>Day 29 – Saddest character death OR best/most satisfying character death (or both!)</span></i></u><br />
<span>Okay, I'm going to put on my nerd-glasses and tell you that I was so upset when Professor Dumbledore died! Then I got angry at a literary inconsistency in which everyone wondered W.W.D.D. but no one consulted his portrait. Idiots.</span><br />
<span>p.s. The most satisfying death was Jack Randall's in <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/10964.Outlander">Outlander</a>. Shhhh, I know, but don't spoil it. Don't!</span><br />
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<u><i>Day 30 – What book are you reading right now?</i></u></span><br />
<span>I plan on finishing <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/3400816.Plum_Spooky_A_Stephanie_Plum_Between_the_Numbers_Holiday_Novel_4_">Plum Spooky</a> tonight, and I've already started <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/12296.The_Scarlet_Letter">The Scarlet Letter</a>. I'm listening to the audio-version of <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/16788.Fragile_Things">Fragile Things</a>, too.</span><br />
<span><u><i> </i></u></span><br />
<span><u><i>The Hallowe'en Secret:</i></u></span><br />
<span><i>I hate Hallowe'en.</i> What, that's not a secret? Oh. Bring on the Christmas season!<u><i><br />
</i></u></span>Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09786892940815298616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251376164272656638.post-51525379023603784952010-10-28T06:33:00.001-04:002010-10-28T08:53:22.947-04:00Booksy - 4 days' worth!Oh, don't act like you're not happy that I'm not posting a few sentences every day. Everyone loves a digest, right? Actually, I'm not much of a fan myself.<br />
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<u><i>Day 25 – Any five books from your “to be read” stack</i></u><br />
At random:<br />
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/228560.Sophie_s_Choice">Sophie's Choice</a> (I'm still not at all sure what this book is about. WAIT DON'T TELL ME!)<br />
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/285092.High_Fidelity">High Fidelity</a> (I've heard it's better than the movie.)<br />
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/850371.Hawaii">Hawaii </a>(I think I want to read this again at some point.)<br />
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/11713.The_English_Patient">The English Patient</a> (I can't seem to get rid of this book, so I might as well read it.)<br />
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/402093.Shogun">Shogun </a>(This is a huge book. It better be good. <i>Or else</i>.)<br />
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<u><i>Day 26 – OMG WTF? OR most irritating/awful/annoying book ending</i></u><br />
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/107291.Needful_Things">Needful Things</a>! The tiny demon riding away into eternity in a chariot? Really? It was a creepy book until I read that. Maybe that's a good thing, because I don't get nightmares as a result.<br />
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<u><i>Day 27 – If a book contains ______, you will always read it (and a book or books that contain it)!</i></u><br />
Humour. Aha, you thought I'd say sex, huh? Nope. I need to laugh! The <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/search/search?search_type=books&search[query]=stephanie+plum">Stephanie Plum</a> series always makes me laugh out loud!<br />
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<u><i>Day 28 – First favorite book or series obsession</i></u><br />
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/3154081.The_Babysitters_Club">The Babysitter's Club</a>. It all started with Kristy's Great Idea, and then my own fever for entrepreneurial feats began! Remember the Club International? It was a "spy agency" I began that was free of charge... with 25 cents tax. Kids.<br />
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Happy Reading, all!Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09786892940815298616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251376164272656638.post-5361957915269877912010-10-24T20:00:00.000-04:002010-10-24T20:00:18.943-04:00Three more days' worthOk, this will be quick because I have water filling up the laundry tub and I need to put something else in there.<br />
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<u><i><span>Day 22 – Favorite non-sexual relationship (including asexual romantic relationships)</span></i></u><br />
<span>Calvin and Hobbes! This has to count. What do I love about them? I like the fact that Calvin is so rough around the edges, but Hobbes (which is really a separate part of Calvin's personality) lets loose with the lady love. It's a perfect way to show the reluctant maturity of a little boy, or so I believe, never having been a boy, nor having any male offspring to observe. Meh. They're funny.</span><br />
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<u><i><span>Day 23 – Most annoying character ever</span></i></u><br />
<span>Scarlett O'Hara. She's whiny, selfish, spoiled, conniving... not to mention fun to read about. Just because someone is annoying doesn't mean she isn't interesting. I'm just really glad I don't actually know anyone like her.</span><br />
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<u><i><span>Day 24 – Best quote from a novel</span></i></u><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">"I'd rather look a fool than be right and fail to act." Richard, Soul of the Fire.</i></span><span><br />
</span><br />
<span>I love this quote because in all honesty this is the kind of thought that separates the brave from the meek. Not only that, but it reminds me that even though I might look silly, there is always the small chance that what I'm doing really will stop that bully, save that baby, make someone's day and save his life. </span><br />
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<span>Later, gators.</span><span></span><br />
<span> </span>Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09786892940815298616noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251376164272656638.post-22040223361684770602010-10-21T21:57:00.000-04:002010-10-21T21:57:42.591-04:00Stumped and erased!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://articlesubmitter.imwishlist.com/wp-content/themes/imwishlist2/images/frustrated.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="219" src="http://articlesubmitter.imwishlist.com/wp-content/themes/imwishlist2/images/frustrated.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>To make a long story short, I didn't post because I was stumped again, and then when I did post, it was erased somehow. The 'net is unreliable.<br />
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<i>Day 19</i> was, I think, the best book cover, and I can't choose one. The covers don't really interest me! Do you have any favourites?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><i>Day 20</i> was best kiss, and I couldn't choose that, either, because the kisses I remember distinctly are disturbing (e.g. between Jamie and Jack in Outlander...) Ah, spoiler. Sorry.<br />
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<i><span>Day 21 – Favorite romantic/sexual relationship (including asexual romantic relationships):</span></i><br />
<span>Oh, definitely Jamie Fraser and Claire Beauchamp Randall Fraser (Outlander series). I love how passionate they are, not only sexually but in every aspect of their relationship. They aren't half-assed about any of it. It kind of reminds me of my own marriage, except Jamie and Claire tend to be more, uh, violent, at times. </span>Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09786892940815298616noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251376164272656638.post-78241566229402168582010-10-11T16:06:00.000-04:002010-10-11T16:06:03.288-04:00Stumped by BooksyI know, I'm not actually doing well on the "daily post" thing, but the truth is: I was stumped. The next topic was:<br />
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<i><u><span>Day 18 – Favorite beginning scene in a book</span></u></i><br />
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<span>I don't have one! Usually I'm pulling my hair out trying to make it through the first scenes in order to give a book a fair chance (this is what I call the "50-page test - where I give it the ol' college try for 50 pages before giving up).</span><br />
<span> <br />
I do, however, have a favourite opening line:</span><br />
<span>"Marley was dead: to begin with." Aaaaaahhhhh, <a href="http://www.google.ca/#hl=en&source=hp&biw=1400&bih=859&q=charles+dickens&aq=f&aqi=g10&aql=&oq=&gs_rfai=&fp=2c5dd9c2b2d3395f">Dickens</a>, you brilliant old whip. You had me at "dead." So there you have it: it's not a scene, but I dare you to find a book that has a better opener than that.</span>Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09786892940815298616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251376164272656638.post-83738127966201104152010-10-06T22:00:00.000-04:002010-10-06T22:00:30.542-04:00A hard nightTonight I put D2 down without nursing her - for the first time ever. She fell asleep faster than I thought she would, and I still got to cuddle with her, but I can't help but feel a little heartbreak knowing that we're moving on to a new chapter in our lives and I'm not sure I'm ready for that. Time passes whether I want it to or not, and it never speeds up nor slows down according to my whim. I can only hope that time will take this feeling of utter sadness as quickly as it stole the last baby I'll ever have.Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09786892940815298616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251376164272656638.post-87149872188080716102010-09-30T01:06:00.000-04:002010-09-30T01:06:54.466-04:00More Booksy<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiigoswxej6MyNWxhJQk703qUy6r1buiBus30zQLF3swQslil2Xeo2H5OeRc_zl0IvN1VyKd-ssIuNITCKXoEHPOz5XfWeR3Pz3HmzFeTruWxHNXIEng-0hs7gdUTExrHtYvINrE1oyTHnV/s200/gwtw.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="167" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The famed "Crick-in-the-neck kiss"</td></tr>
</tbody></table><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiigoswxej6MyNWxhJQk703qUy6r1buiBus30zQLF3swQslil2Xeo2H5OeRc_zl0IvN1VyKd-ssIuNITCKXoEHPOz5XfWeR3Pz3HmzFeTruWxHNXIEng-0hs7gdUTExrHtYvINrE1oyTHnV/s1600/gwtw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><u><span>Day 15 – Your “comfort” book</span></u><br />
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<span>This would have to be <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18405.Gone_With_the_Wind">Gone With the Wind</a>. I know, it's a silly story that's slightly offensive, but it was the first "adult" book I had ever chosen for myself and read (in Grade 7 from a book fair) and I was so proud that I read it that it left me with feelings of nostalgia.</span><br />
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<u><span>Day 16 – Favorite poem or collection of poetry</span></u><br />
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<span>Chicken Soup with Rice, no doubt!</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7P2NBCf_fv1FIALermb4KfuBZO5CqnvmUG4s4m7bBWg-7dUkXM3XUp6t8g6uVv8m7nSL5Zt7N8PNc3jPeWu4ocXvjqh95001iacaNu3fOJTlZT4EiIH-6P1QKT6xIBJs72FlHwQLSSQRo/s1600/Tatterhood.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7P2NBCf_fv1FIALermb4KfuBZO5CqnvmUG4s4m7bBWg-7dUkXM3XUp6t8g6uVv8m7nSL5Zt7N8PNc3jPeWu4ocXvjqh95001iacaNu3fOJTlZT4EiIH-6P1QKT6xIBJs72FlHwQLSSQRo/s200/Tatterhood.jpg" width="155" /></a><span> </span><br />
<u><span>Day 17 – Favorite story or collection of stories (short stories, novellas, novelettes, etc.)</span></u><br />
<span>My favourite story is Tatterhood by Robin Muller. It is quite violent now that I have read it recently, but I never thought about it twice when reading it as a child, and, remembering how much I liked the story when I was young, I don't think about the violence now as I let my daughter read it. I talk to her about what's going on and don't just leave her to ponder the situations on her own.</span>Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09786892940815298616noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251376164272656638.post-52200238324149834932010-09-28T23:06:00.001-04:002010-09-28T23:06:44.413-04:00To Be Cont'dI'm so tired lately! I'll update soon, but not tonight. For a booksy tidbit, though, I'll treat you to info on what I'm reading:<br>• A Game of Thrones - it's taking me forever to get through this because it requires concentration to sort out the myriad of active characters.<br>• The Time Traveller's Wife - I'm really enjoying this one! So far I like it a bit better than the movie.<br>• Jane Eyre - after the first chapter it finally got me very interested. <p>What are you reading?Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09786892940815298616noreply@blogger.com0