<?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-30745991</id><updated>2011-07-28T23:46:43.923-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sparkling Soul</title><subtitle type='html'>"LIFE IS SHORT. DANCE NAKED AND WIGGLE YOUR BUTT!"  ~Toteg Tribe Saying</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>85</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-116415682219343502</id><published>2006-11-21T18:50:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-11-21T18:53:42.206-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Good bye!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/Sunset.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/400/Sunset.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Thanks for the fun and friendship. It's been great!&lt;br /&gt;sparklingsoul524@hotmail.com&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-116415682219343502?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/116415682219343502/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=116415682219343502' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/116415682219343502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/116415682219343502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/11/good-bye.html' title='Good bye!'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-116415645375532557</id><published>2006-11-21T17:51:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-11-21T18:47:33.773-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I've decided that I'm not going to continue this blog. I don't feel it's the right medium for me at this point. I love the journaling and thinking that it makes me do, however, I'm not all that comfortable completely spilling my guts in public. Most of the things I've been wanting to write about are just too personal, and internet anonyminity (that's a word, right?) is pretty much non-existant. The weird thing about the blog is that I felt somehow compelled to write. Like there were so many people out there just dying to read about my life, that I had to post more often, so I wouldn't be letting them down. I'm hoping to be disciplined enough to actually write without that inspiration, but time will tell. So far, I haven't been doing very good, but I'm going to format a computer journal that is pretty and colorful, and add all the piddly stuff I see throughout the day that catches my eye or my heart, like quotes and stories and pictures, hopefully like an electronic scrapbook. And I'm hoping I can find a friend or two to share it with, like prayer-partners. Then I'll still have some of that addicting accountability and feedback, without the publicity. If anyone has any suggestions (software, formatting, etc) on how to make it work, please let me know!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm officially starting riding lessons (dressage) again tomorrow, and will be riding twice a week, and hopefully will have the chance to work with my trainer's "wonder-child" that she doesn't have time for. He's a horse much like the one I put down a few years ago (identical in looks, actually) and he has amazing talent that is going to waste in the pasture. If I do start him back up, it would probably mean atleast three evenings at the barn, which is okay, since I'm excited about getting back into shape!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My own girls are doing good, and we're riding every weekend, especially since it's been nice so far this fall. Dolly has her amazingly furry winter coat, and looks like a big, black, velvet teddy bear. Very cute. Two weeks ago, I crashed her, though. We were cantering along on the road and in the transition down to the trot, she tripped and sommersaulted onto her face. Fortunately for me, it was one of those spooky slow-motion accidents, and I was able to get off and just watch it happen, and was in no way injured. Unfortunately for her, she broke her fall with her face. The browband of her bridle dug a big hunk out of her forehead, and she had little cuts and nicks from the gravel all along her face. Poor thing. I felt so bad for her; 25 year old, 1800 pound draft horse falling on her face. She's healing nicely though, and shows no evidence lingering emotional issues, for which I am very grateful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been making time for old (and new) friends, which has been great. I didn't realize how much I was missing that face-to-face friendship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband has informed me that he is not interested in having kids. Not now, not ever. Predictably enough, he doesn't really have a very good reason, so I'm curious to see how he feels next week/month/year. For now, though, we have officially stopped trying, although we aren't really doing anything to prevent pregnancy either. I'm leaving it in God's hands. If he wants us to be parents, then we'll be parents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm also leaving the health and future of my marriage in God's hands. I've decided to "shut up and pray." I've been praying for my husband about certain issues for a while, and I'm just going to step up and expand the process. I'm also praying for the courage and patience and faith that I will need to get through it all. Please add us into your prayer requests if you're so motivated. It will be extremely appreciated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'll still be cruising through some of my favorites now and then. If you want to chat, feel free to email me. Otherwise, farewell, and God bless!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-116415645375532557?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/116415645375532557/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=116415645375532557' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/116415645375532557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/116415645375532557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/11/ive-decided-that-im-not-going-to.html' title=''/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-116304392695770589</id><published>2006-11-08T21:21:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-11-08T21:46:14.093-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Thursday Thirteen # 13</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://intricateart.com/blog/thursdaythirteen300.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;On November 1, I started work at my new job. I am really &lt;strike&gt;excited&lt;/strike&gt; &lt;strike&gt;thrilled&lt;/strike&gt; ecstatic to be working there, and honored to have been chosen for the position so here's:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;strong&gt;Thirteen Things I Like About My New Job&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/w208.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/w202.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;1. The pay is better. About $3 more per hour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;2. The benefits are better. Health insurance is paid 100% by the company for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;3. The vacation is better. I accrue vacation days per pay period, and will get 8 days for the first year. Sick days accumulate at the same rate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;4. The location is better. Instead of working in the heart of a good sized city, I work in a small town.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;5. The drive is better. I travel about the same distance, however it takes half as long, and instead of 11 stoplights, I only have one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;6. The schedule is better. I get off at 4:30 rather than 5:00 and the schedule is very flexible to accommodate having a life outside of work. I also have short Fridays in the summer!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;7. The supervisor is better. I feel very appreciated and feel that they are excited to have me on the team. I am in close contact with my supervisor daily, and don't feel that I will be taken for granted, ignored, or underappreciated. I feel that she will address concerns fairly and promptly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;8. The company is better. They seem to truly value their employees and encourage them to grow both professionally and personally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;9. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;The mission is better. It's a non-profit organization rather than a for-profit business. They're more concerned about helping people than improving the bottom line.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;10. The people are better. Everyone is relatively pleasant and nice. So far, I haven't really seen the dramatic soap-opera that offices generally become. There don't seem to be a lot of cliques and gossip, and I feel very welcome. The president of the company is someone that I admire immensely, and all the people there are the kind of people that I want to emulate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;11. The ambition is better. Everyone stays busy. There is little grumbling about the work, instead people seem energized and driven by the work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;12. The atmosphere is better. My office is big and has lots of wonderful storage and work space. I am privileged to have a nice big window with a view of the park across the street.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;13. Everything is better! I did my second interview two days before the other candidates due to my vacation. I was the unanimous choice for the position, and they felt so confident hiring me that they cancelled the rest of the second interviews. If I could list all the things I'd want in my dream job, I'd end up with this one. How lucky can a girl get?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;(If only I felt that way about my marriage. Oh, well, I guess you can't have it all.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://thursdaythirteen.com"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. ItÃ’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://technorati.com/tag/thursday+thirteen" rel="tag"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;View More Thursday Thirteen Participants&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&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/30745991-116304392695770589?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/116304392695770589/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=116304392695770589' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/116304392695770589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/116304392695770589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/11/thursday-thirteen-13.html' title='Thursday Thirteen # 13'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-116287350875080790</id><published>2006-11-06T22:23:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-11-06T22:25:08.766-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Bambi</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/image5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/image5.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/image6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/image6.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/image7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/image7.jpg" alt="" 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/30745991-116287350875080790?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/116287350875080790/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=116287350875080790' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/116287350875080790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/116287350875080790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/11/bambi.html' title='Bambi'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-116252037857811598</id><published>2006-11-02T20:06:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-11-02T20:19:38.606-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Suburban Survivor</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;THE NEXT SURVIVOR SERIES...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Six married men will be dropped on an island with one car and 3 kids&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;each for six weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each kid will play two sports and either take music or dance classes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is no fast food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each man must take care of his 3 kids; keep his assigned house clean,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;correct all homework, complete science projects, cook, do laundry, and&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;pay a list of "pretend" bills with not enough money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In addition, each man will have to budget in money for groceries each&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each man must remember the birthdays of all their friends and relatives,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;and send cards out on time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each man must also take each child to a doctor's appointment, a dentist&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;appointment and a haircut appointment . He must make one unscheduled and&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;inconvenient visit per child to the Urgent Care (weekend, evening, on a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;holiday or right when they're about to leave for vacation). He must also&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;make cookies or cupcakes for a social function.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each man will be responsible for decorating his own assigned house,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;planting flowers outside and keeping it presentable at all times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The men will only have access to television when the kids are asleep and&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;all chores are done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is only one TV between them, and a remote with dead batteries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each father will be required to know all of the words to every stupid&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;song that comes on TV and the name of each and every character on&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;cartoons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The men must shave their legs, wear makeup daily, which they will apply&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;to themselves either while driving or making three lunches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each man will have to make an Indian hut model with six toothpicks, a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;tortilla and one marker; and get a 4 year old to eat a serving of peas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each man must adorn himself with jewelry, wear uncomfortable yet stylish&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;shoes, keep their nails polished and eyebrows groomed. The men must try&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;to get through each day without snot, spit-up or barf on their clothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During one of the six weeks, the men will have to endure severe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;abdominal cramps, back aches, and have extreme, unexplained mood swings&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;but never once complain or slow down from other duties. They must try to&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;explain what a tampon is for when the 6-yr old boy finds it in the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;purse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They must attend weekly school meetings, church, and find time at least&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;once to spend the afternoon at the park or a similar setting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He will need to read a book and then pray with the children each night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;without falling asleep, and then feed them, dress them, brush their&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;teeth and comb their hair each morning by 7:00. They must leave the home&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;with no food on their face or clothes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A test will be given at the end of the six weeks, and each father will&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;be required to know all of the following information: each child's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;birthday, height, weight, shoe size, clothes size and doctor's name.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sa ns MS&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;Also the child's weight at birth, length, time of birth, and length of&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;labor, each child's favorite color, middle name, favorite snack,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;favorite song, favorite drink, favorite toy, biggest fear and what they&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;want to be when they grow up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They must clean up after their sick children at 2:00 a.m. and then spend&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;the remainder of the day tending to that child and waiting on them hand&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;and foot until they are better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They must have a loving, age appropriate reply to, "You're not the boss&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;of me".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kids vote them off the island based on performance.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;The last man wins only if...he still has enough energy to be intimate&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;with his spouse at a moment's notice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If by some strange freak of nature two men tie, the ultimate winner will be chosen when the game is played for one more week, with one small adjustment...the man also has to work a 40 hour week in addition to the previous conditions.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-116252037857811598?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/116252037857811598/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=116252037857811598' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/116252037857811598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/116252037857811598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/11/suburban-survivor.html' title='Suburban Survivor'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-116226181428080523</id><published>2006-10-30T20:04:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-10-30T20:30:14.296-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Signing Off</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;I'm losing the ambition to keep this blog going right now. The ten days of not posting while on vacation didn't help much, either. Apparently I lost my momentum.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;In addition, there is a lot of stuff going on in my life lately that requires my attention. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;1) I'm starting a new job on Wednesday - woo hoo! Better pay, better benefits, better location, better schedule, etc, etc. On paper, it's my dream job. We'll see how it is once I get there!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;2) I'm having issues with my marriage, which is something I need to deal with. I feel like my WH doesn't really want to be married, which bothers me. However, it bothers me more that I don't even really care anymore. (Atleast not tonight.) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;3) I'm rethinking the decision to try to get pregnant in light of #2. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;4) There are some friends that I really want to reconnect with, and I need to make more time for that. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;5) I plan on starting dressage lessons again, which will take up 2 nights a week. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;6) I really need some "me time" to unwind and destress and think about things. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;7) I am the kind of person who organizes their thoughts by writing, but even this relatively anonymous blog is too public for some of my thoughts. I'll be spending more time with an unpublished journal, trying to sort things out. I might publish it some day, I might not. We'll see. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;I will probably not be posting very regularily for the next while, but I will be keeping up with some of my favorites. Thanks for the prayers and emails. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-116226181428080523?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/116226181428080523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=116226181428080523' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/116226181428080523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/116226181428080523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/10/signing-off.html' title='Signing Off'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-116198155542839258</id><published>2006-10-27T15:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-27T15:39:15.443-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Search Statistics</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;Someone recently found my page by searching "what injections will make your butt bigger?" The sad part is that it's a legitimate question with a surgical answer. Apparently there are injections and implants available, similar to breast implants. Here I thought most women think that their butt is &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;too&lt;/span&gt; big. I guess you learn something new every day. How funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-116198155542839258?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/116198155542839258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=116198155542839258' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/116198155542839258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/116198155542839258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/10/search-statistics.html' title='Search Statistics'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-116179283574152682</id><published>2006-10-27T08:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-27T09:02:06.330-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Now We're Cruisin'</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;Sunday October 15, we set sail on our cruise ship, the Carnival Valor. We spent Sunday night and all day Monday just cruising.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;We used the time at sea to explore the ship. The first thing we did is check out the buffet! It was so nice to get your food and sit down to eat without having to pay for it! Then you get up and leave your dishes on the table, and they are magically cleared away! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;If only I could do that at home!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Our stateroom was not particularily roomy, and we ended up with two twin beds pushed together to make a king, but it was clean and nice. There was lots of closet space and lots of shelves in the bathroom for stuff, so that was nice. All you really do there is sleep and change clothes, so it wasn't that bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of the fun places on our ship were:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;ul style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The One Small Step Disco - Where the walls were made of TV's and the dance floor is made up of squares of light that change color.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The Caboose - A game room with perpetual motion spinning chairs. Once you sit in them and start spinning, you just keep going around and around and around and around and around...I don't recommend it if you tend towards motion sickness!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The Atrium Lounge - Nine stories high, complete with piano and bar, decor done in American flags.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The Ivanhoe Show Lounge - Very neat, looks like a stone castle. There are soldiers in full armor lining the walls, and the stage curtain is made of sequined sheilds, each with a different picture. Has a main floor and a balcony. This is where we watched all the after-dinner shows (comedians, hypnotist, Broadway-style shows, etc.) They also use it for bingo, movies, and other fun stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The Lindy Hop Piano Bar - This one is done with Charles Lindberg in mind. It has a plane hanging from the ceiling and tables made of propellers. In the center is a circular bar whose top looks like a piano keyboard. In the center is a revolving stage with a black baby grand. The guy who played in there knew just about everything you would ever want to request, and had costumes to compete some of the songs (Elton John, Elvis, Kermit the Frog, etc.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The Paris Hot Jazz Club - Done in the theme of black entertainer Josephine Baker's "Banana Dance" which she performed wearing only high heels, a skirt made of bananas, and a pearl necklace. A band played in the club nightly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The Washington Dining Room - This is where we ate dinner every night. The outside walls on the lower level (where we were) were mirrored, and the other walls were painted an unusually garish coral-pink color, and had cream colored trim. The carpeting was red with a blue and yellow pattern. The mirror frames and accent pieces were done in an ornate, gold, Baroque style. The decor was a little far out for me, but the food and service was excellent. We ate things like filet mignon, lobster, veal, prime rib, and duck, with desserts like creme brulee, chocolate melting cake, and baked alaska. the best part is that if you wanted more than one thing, you just order two, or however much you want. Mmm-Mmm good!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;We also had a sushi bar, sports bar, supper club, another show lounge, cigar bar, wine bar, and a casino.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;Our ship's total passenger capacity was 2,974, and it carries a staff of 1,180. It had 13 decks and was 952 feet long. We cruised at an average of 21 knots (24.15 mph.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-116179283574152682?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/116179283574152682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=116179283574152682' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/116179283574152682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/116179283574152682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/10/now-were-cruisin.html' title='Now We&apos;re Cruisin&apos;'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-116000957402899096</id><published>2006-10-26T08:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-08T21:21:03.030-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Thursday Thirteen #12</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://intricateart.com/blog/thursdaythirteen300.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;Hi, I'm Amaranth, and I'm a bibliophile. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;My philosophy is, "One can never have too many books!" accompanied closely by the idea that getting rid of a book is a sin.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I tend to get books from libraries and bookstores and friends with good intentions of reading them, however I have more ambition than I have time. They end up in piles around my house until I finally get to them, so here's:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;strong&gt;Thirteen Books Laying Around My House&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/w208.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/w202.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;In the Office:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;1. "Open Mind, Open Heart" by Thomas Keating&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;2. "Better Off" by Eric Brende&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;3. "Touching Evil" by Kay Hooper&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;4. "Grace at Low Tide" by Beth Webb Hart (started)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Stuffed Randomly into the Bookshelf:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;5. "Olivia's Touch" by Peggy Stoks&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;6. "To Know Her by Name" by Lori Wick&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;7. The Screwtape Letters" by C.S. Lewis&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;8. "Mere Christianity" by C.S. Lewis&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;9. "The Rule of Four" by Ian Caldwell and Dustin Thomason&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;10. "No Wonder They Call Him Savior" by Max Lucado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;11. "The Lamb's Supper" by Scott Hahn (started)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;On the Dining Room Table:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;12. "Six Hours one Friday" by Max Lucado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;13. "Angel Creek" by Linda Howard&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;In my Tinkerbell bag that I carry to work:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;14. "We Worship" by Father Oscar Luefahr&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;15. "The Blue Castle" by L.M. Montgomery (my lunch hour read this week)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;16. "Christian Meditation" by James Finley (started)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;(I know it's more than 13, but I did leave lots of them off the list in an effort to conserve space.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;::Edit:: Since I wrote this a few days ago, I have finished "Better Off" and "Touching Evil" and highly recommend both books. "Better Off" was great and will probably be the topic of a future post once I get organized again. I have also finished "The Blue Castle", "Chill of Fear", and "Sisters Found."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://thursdaythirteen.com"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://technorati.com/tag/thursday+thirteen" rel="tag"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;View More Thursday Thirteen Participants&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&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/30745991-116000957402899096?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/116000957402899096/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=116000957402899096' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/116000957402899096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/116000957402899096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/10/thursday-thirteen-12.html' title='Thursday Thirteen #12'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-116178640245845151</id><published>2006-10-25T09:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-25T09:26:42.476-05:00</updated><title type='text'>First Stop: South Beach, Miami</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;We spent the first two days of vacation (Friday and Saturday) in South Beach, Miami, Florida.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Friday we got into Miami early, becuase our flight left home at 6:30 am. We spent the afternoon playing in the nice warm ocean, picking sea shells, and sitting in the tiki bar. Then we took a nap and got dressed up to go to dinner. We also went clubbing and used our free passes to Mansion - South Beach's hottest Celeb and A-List hang out. (We never did see anyone famous.) We got free passes from a bartender at our hotel, and saved ourselves the $30 cover. We stood outside in the line for a while, until someone finally recognized our VIP passes and then we got in right away. Once past the door, mixed drinks were $11, beer $8. In order to get a table, you had to buy a bottle, minimum $250, with Grey Goose topping it off at $600. That didn't include pop or mixers. Inside it looked like an old Gothic mansion, with a big curving staircase, and stone walls with fake ivy growing on them. The DJ that night was Dave Navarro, but we didn't stay long enough to see him, since the place was a little to high priced for us small town country folks. It was a fun experience, though. SoBe was like nothing I'd ever really experienced before. At home, we grumble about a $5 cover, and we go out in jeans and t-shirts. There, people dress up and walk the street to see and be seen. Everything is magnificently expensive. It wasn't unusual to see regular looking folks getting out of stretch Hummers wearing Milano Blahniks. How those girls can spend all night in those shoes is beyond me! My feet were killing me and we were only out until about 2am. South Beach is known for its nightlife, and there is plenty of that! Most of the clubs stay open until atleast 5 am. Wow! On the street, I stopped to hold an albino python, which completely freaked out B, one of the girls in our group. She was so afraid that she actually crossed the street rather than walk past the snake! I thought it was kind of neat, and it weighed more than I thought it would. It was very strong, too, and a real pretty yellow and cream color. Unfortunately we didn't bring a camera, and I wasn't about to pay the guy to take my picture. The bad thing about having a nice SLR digital camera is that it gets heavy after a while, so WH doesn't like to bring it along all the time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Note to self: Get a little point-and-shoot digital that will fit in a purse. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Saturday we spent the day shopping. We walked the 3-4 miles down the boardwalk to the shopping district, which was a lot more my style than the clubbing from the night before. It was nice to be in the sun, and check out the shops. The only thing I bought was some postcards to send home! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-116178640245845151?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/116178640245845151/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=116178640245845151' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/116178640245845151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/116178640245845151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/10/first-stop-south-beach-miami.html' title='First Stop: South Beach, Miami'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-116174839680832897</id><published>2006-10-24T22:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-25T09:37:42.963-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Home Sweet Home</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;I've spent the past 10 days on vacation. We spent two days in Miami before embarking on a 7-day Western Caribbean cruise. We went with two other couples, neither of whom we knew very well. Fortunately we all got along, since we had to spend an entire vacation together! It was a good time, but it sure is nice to be home. I intend to write all about it and post pictures as time allows. Unfortunately, that's not right now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;In the mean time, you can keep busy with weffriddles by clicking &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);" href="http://weffriddles.com/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;. Just a warning, though, it's addictive, frustrating, and time consuming. But fun! I made it to #15 before I got stumped and quit for the day. (Hints or spoilers welcome for 15!!) Special thanks to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);" href="http://fadetonumb.blogspot.com"&gt;FTN&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt; for the link. Just what we needed...as if blogging wasn't enough of an addiction!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-116174839680832897?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/116174839680832897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=116174839680832897' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/116174839680832897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/116174839680832897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/10/home-sweet-home.html' title='Home Sweet Home'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-116040588463448734</id><published>2006-10-12T08:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-12T00:13:16.793-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thursday Thirteen #11</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://intricateart.com/blog/thursdaythirteen300.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow I am leaving for a 7-day Western Caribbean cruise so here's&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;strong&gt;Thirteen Things I'm Going to Do on Vacation&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;strong&gt;:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Take lots of pictures.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;2. Go swimming with the stingrays and snorkeling in Grand Cayman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;3. Check out the different kinds of music and dancing every night. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;4. Do some Christmas shopping in Roatan, Honduras.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;5. Go cave tubing in Belize.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;6. Dress up for dinner every evening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;7. Visit the Mayan ruins in Costa Mesa, Mexico.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;8. Read and relax by the pool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;9. Participate in the costume contest. (As a 1920's flapper)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;10. Get a massage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;11. Get formal pictures taken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;12. Enjoy the exciting Broadway shows every night after dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;13. Get a tan!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;There will be a plethora of daily activities for us to partake in such as:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;Shopping, Beauty Salon, Spa, Exercise Facilities, Golf, Casino, Bingo, Pools, Hot Tubs, Sauna/Steam Room, Galley/Ship Tours, Wine Tasting, Ice Carving, Dance Classes, Karaoke, Game Shows, etc., etc.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;I don't think I'll be bored!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:100%;" &gt;Am I packed yet? Hardly!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/IMG_2881.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/IMG_2881.1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://thursdaythirteen.com"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://technorati.com/tag/thursday+thirteen" rel="tag"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;View More Thursday Thirteen Participants&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&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/30745991-116040588463448734?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/116040588463448734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=116040588463448734' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/116040588463448734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/116040588463448734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/10/thursday-thirteen-11.html' title='Thursday Thirteen #11'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-116040374268882833</id><published>2006-10-09T08:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-09T09:23:33.120-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/mmbanner1.10.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/mmbanner1.9.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. From &lt;a href="http://www.sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;i&gt;amaranth&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;Name three  people you would pick (and why) if you could choose who to be stranded on a  deserted island with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Even though this was my question, it's the toughest for me to answer. My first instinct would be my husband, my mom, and my sister. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;My husband is a farm-boy, and good at making things work and fixing stuff. However, he doesn't like to eat outside and he's kinda picky, so it'd be interesting to see how he gets over that. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;My sister is a ball of evergy, and fun to have around, although I'm sure she would be "so bored!" My mom is an excellent cook. I'd also like to bring my best friend B, who is very outdoorsy, and likes to hunt and fish and camp. She'd be a good choice. My other best friend MB has three small children, and she could use a vacation. She's always a good one for finding the fun in any situation. Can I bring 5 people?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. From &lt;a href="http://jvdhj.livejournal.com/"&gt;&lt;i&gt;julie&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;What is your favorite  genre of film and what is your favorite movie from that genre?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;I watch too many movies to have a favorite, and I like: drama, action, comedy, sci-fi. I don't like horror or "stupid" humor. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. From &lt;a href="http://onelittlebunny.com/pawprints.php"&gt;&lt;i&gt;tiffany&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;Which  country would you like to visit and why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;I would like to visit the Mediterranean area. I would also like to visit Portugal, for the horses. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. From &lt;a href="http://dailysnooze.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;i&gt;wil&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;What are you driving  these days? What's it's (their) good and bad points? Would you buy another one,  and why or why not?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;I posted about this &lt;a style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);" href="http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/08/thursday-thirteen-3.html"&gt;once before&lt;/a&gt;. I am ready for a new car, although mine still runs just fine. I would buy another Grand Am, but I think I'll upgrade to the Grand Prix next time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. From &lt;a href="http://cindyswanslife.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;i&gt;cindy swanson&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;"Lost,"  "24," or both?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;LOST. I've never seen 24. I am, however, kind of disappointed with LOST lately, so we'll see how it goes this season. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. From &lt;a href="http://engelmeine.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;i&gt;lady  starlight&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;You've been very good this year. What should Santa bring  you for Christmas? (the sky is the limit)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;The 200 acres of paradise conveniently situated across the road from my mama. (Complete with &lt;a style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);" href="http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/09/thursday-thirteen-8_28.html"&gt;dream house&lt;/a&gt; and barn.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-116040374268882833?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/116040374268882833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=116040374268882833' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/116040374268882833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/116040374268882833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/10/1_09.html' title=''/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-116010173586918996</id><published>2006-10-05T21:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-05T21:28:55.896-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Things That Make You Go, "DAMN THAT HURTS!"</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Tonight I fulfilled #11 from &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/08/thursday-thirteen-4.html"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;this post&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;. Well, sort of. I didn't go for the whole thing, but the parts I had done were enough. It didn't hurt as much as it could have, but it wasn't pleasant. We leave for a Caribbean cruise next Friday, and if I'm going to spend nine days in a bikini... I haven't yet decided if I'll do it again, but atleast I can day that I've done it once!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-116010173586918996?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/116010173586918996/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=116010173586918996' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/116010173586918996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/116010173586918996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/10/things-that-make-you-go-damn-that.html' title='Things That Make You Go, &quot;DAMN THAT HURTS!&quot;'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-116010349666100051</id><published>2006-10-05T18:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-05T21:58:16.683-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Views</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 0);"&gt;Apparently I have a thing for sunsets.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/IMG_2840.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/IMG_2840.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 0); font-style: italic;"&gt;September 27, 2006&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/IMG_2779.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/IMG_2779.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 0); font-style: italic;"&gt;October 4, 2006&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-116010349666100051?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/116010349666100051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=116010349666100051' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/116010349666100051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/116010349666100051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/10/views.html' title='Views'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-116007526414786251</id><published>2006-10-05T14:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-05T14:07:44.176-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Shay's Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt;My husband just forwarded me this story in an e-mail, and it is definately something I have to post. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves learning disabled children, the  father of one of the student's delivered a speech that would never be forgotten  by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he  offered a question:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"When not interfered with by outside influences,  everything nature does is done with perfection. Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn  things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do.  Where is the natural order of things in my son?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The audience was  stilled by the query.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The father continued. "I believe, that when a child like  Shay, physically and mentally handicapped, comes into the world an opportunity  to realize true human nature presents itself and it comes in the way other  people treat that child. Then he told the following story:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shay and his  father had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball.  Shay asked, "Do you think they'll let me play?" Shay's father knew that most of  the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but the father also  understood that if his son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed  sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his  handicaps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shay's father approached one of the boys on the field and  asked if Shay could play, not expecting much. The boy looked around for guidance  and said, "We're losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I  guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him in to bat in the ninth  inning."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shay struggled over to the team's bench and put on a team shirt  with a broad smile. His Father had a small tear in his eye and warmth in his  heart. The boys saw the father's joy at his son being accepted. In the bottom of  the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three.  In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right  field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in  the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as his father waved to him  from the stands. In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay's team scored again.  Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base  and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this juncture, do they let  Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game? Surprisingly, Shay was  given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay  didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing the  other team putting winning aside for this moment in Shay's life, moved in a few  steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least be able to make contact.  The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed. The pitcher again took  a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay. As the pitch came in,  Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow grounder right back to the pitcher. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The game would now be over, but the pitcher picked up the soft grounder  and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been  out and that would have been the end of the game.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the head of  the first baseman, out of reach of all team mates. Everyone from the stands and  both teams started yelling, "Shay, run to first! Run to first!" Never in his  life had Shay ever ran that far but made it to first base. He scampered down the  baseline, wide-eyed and startled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone yelled, "Run to second, run  to second!"&lt;br /&gt;Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming  and struggling to make it to second base. By the time Shay rounded towards  second base, the right fielder had the ball, the smallest guy on their team, who  had a chance to be the hero for his team for the first time. He could have  thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the  pitcher's intentions and he too intentionally threw the ball high and far over  the third-baseman's head. Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners  ahead of him circled the bases toward home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All were screaming, "Shay,  Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shay reached third base, the opposing  shortstop ran to help him and turned him in the direction of third base, and  shouted, "Run to third! Shay, run to third" As Shay rounded third, the boys from  both teams and those watching were on their feet were screaming, "Shay, run  home! Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who  hit the "grand slam" and won the game for his team.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That day," said the  father softly with tears now rolling down his face, "the boys from both teams  helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-116007526414786251?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/116007526414786251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=116007526414786251' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/116007526414786251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/116007526414786251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/10/shays-story.html' title='Shay&apos;s Story'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-116001039495345985</id><published>2006-10-05T08:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-05T14:11:50.543-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thursday Thirteen # 10</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://intricateart.com/blog/thursdaythirteen300.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Yesterday, I needed a dose of retail therapy after my usually wonderful husband upset me, and the garden center w&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;as &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;havi&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ng&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;strong&gt; a sale, so here's:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;strong&gt;Thirteen Plant&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;strong&gt;s I Bought:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;1. Hemerocallis - Happy Retu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;rns (yellow daylily)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/52555.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 89px; height: 89px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/200/52555.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;2. Hemerocallis - Purple d'Oro (purple/red daylily)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/Purple_de_Oro_jpg.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 122px; height: 82px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/200/Purple_de_Oro_jpg.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;3. Pink Mist Scabiosa (P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;incushion Flower)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/09985.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 96px; height: 96px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/200/09985.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;4. Butterfly Blue Scabiosa (Pincushion Flower)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/08102.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 91px; height: 91px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/200/08102.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;5. 'Franz Schubert' P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;hlox (lavendar)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/79b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 85px; height: 109px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/200/79b.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;6. 'David' Phlo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;x (white)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/phlox4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 105px; height: 150px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/200/phlox4.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;7. 'Magenta' Phlox (dark pink)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/Phlox%20Astoria%20Magenta%20sm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 92px; height: 92px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/200/Phlox%20Astoria%20Magenta%20sm.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;8. Echinacea Purpurea (purple coneflower)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/08201.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 86px; height: 86px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/200/08201.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;9. 'Burgundy' Gaillardia (Blanket Flower)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/11320.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 90px; height: 90px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/200/11320.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;10. Purple Dwarf Aster (bright purple)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/l_SIP883647.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 100px; height: 100px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/200/l_SIP883647.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I only bought 10 new plants, but this weekend I will be dividing:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;11.  Hostas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;12. Mums (Pink, Dark Pink, Yellow)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;13. Tall English Asters (Bright Pink)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;Hopefully I'll be able to find room for all of these...I intend to dig a new bed along the house somewhere...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://thursdaythirteen.com"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://technorati.com/tag/thursday+thirteen" rel="tag"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;View More Thursday Thirteen Participants&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&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/30745991-116001039495345985?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/116001039495345985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=116001039495345985' title='17 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/116001039495345985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/116001039495345985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/10/thursday-thirteen-10.html' title='Thursday Thirteen # 10'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>17</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115981577026787043</id><published>2006-10-02T13:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-02T14:04:18.900-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/mmbanner1.8.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/mmbanner1.7.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. From &lt;a href="http://www.thefernandeses.com/blog/"&gt;&lt;i&gt;amanda f&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;What do you do when somebody complements you?&lt;br /&gt;a. Smile and say thanks&lt;br /&gt;b. Ignore it and change the subject&lt;br /&gt;c. Complement them back&lt;br /&gt;d.  Turn red in embarrasment at the attention and look around to see other people's  reaction&lt;br /&gt;e. Take it as your due!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Usually   a. Smile and say thanks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. From &lt;a href="http://maltshop.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;i&gt;shelly&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;What color are your  eyes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Dark brown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. From &lt;a href="http://digilander.libero.it/italiancozycorner/Home.html"&gt;&lt;i&gt;kia&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;What do you like most about yourself?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;This was the topic of a Thursday 13&lt;/span&gt; &lt;a href="http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/09/thursday-thirteen-5.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. From &lt;a href="http://celebratinglifeandfamily.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;i&gt;julie&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;How  do you spend Christmas?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Christmas eve we go to my mother-in-law's house where we spend the evening in tortured small talk until "Santa" comes. The same Santa has been visiting since my husband was still in footie pajamas. Then we endure 9 people taking the same pictures of every family on Santa's lap, and a frenzied mob of kids opening so many presents, they forget what they got. We also draw names and exchange &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;wonderfully tasteless gifts that you will never use&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt; among the siblings, which is always so much fun. All of this is topped off with bland sugar cookies, because no gathering is complete without sweets. Then we go to midnight mass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christmas day, we get together with my family either at our house of my mom's. We open gifts in the morning, and cook a turkey dinner complete with all the fixins (becuase turkey is my favorite) for dinner in the afternoon. The rest of the afternoon is usually spent cleaning up after dinner with the men snoozing in front of the TV. Sometimes we watch a movie in the afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I much prefer our Christmas day festivities with my family, but probably just becuase it's what I'm used to. The Christmas Eve festivities always leave me feeling so drained, because it's too much noise and confusion. I don't like seeing all the greedy, unappreciative kids, either. Should we have children of our own, the way we celebrate Christmas will change quite a bit.  Until then, I suffer through the chaos!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. From &lt;a href="http://nadnuts.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;i&gt;wide imagination&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;When do you  normally blog? Day or night?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;During the day, at work. (shhh!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. From &lt;a href="http://mysoulfulthoughts.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;i&gt;rach&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;What song can  you relate to your personal life? Share a line or two of that song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;I don't have one, but I think that a theme song is a really fun idea! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.  From &lt;a href="http://granni39.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;i&gt;sherle&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;What is  your favorite color for a sleeping environment?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;I want to do my bedroom in browns, but it currently has white walls and beige carpet. The bedspread changes, but when company comes it's usually a red and yellow quilt with matching pillows that my mother-in-law made. On normal days, it's one of the quilts that I've made for myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://mmadness.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"&gt;Monday Madness&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115981577026787043?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115981577026787043/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115981577026787043' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115981577026787043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115981577026787043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/10/1.html' title=''/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115888180629554913</id><published>2006-09-29T11:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-29T12:17:14.473-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Chinook</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I was thinking about  my favorite horse today, so he's the topic of this post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Chinook&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;1989-2003&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/purple%20chinook.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 194px; height: 262px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/400/purple%20chinook.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;I have had my own horses since I was 10, and have made my way through many different riding disciplines over the years. However, I left them all behind when I found a true love in dressage at 21.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;dres·sage&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; (&lt;span class="pron"&gt;dr&lt;i&gt;uh&lt;/i&gt;-&lt;b&gt;sahzh&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;) &lt;i&gt;n.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;dl style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"&gt;&lt;dd&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;The guiding of a horse through a series of complex maneuvers by slight  movements of the rider's hands, legs, and weight.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/dd&gt;&lt;/dl&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;Dressage tests the horse’s physique and ability, and the horse and the rider’s  understanding of each other. It suits the obsessive-compulsive, anal, perfectionist side of my personality to a tee. I love the history involved, and the ideals of the sport. I enjoy competing, something I'd never experienced in the politics of other disciplines. I love the personal challenge involved in dressage, and the systematic and thorough training of both horse and rider.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started riding dressage in the spring of 2001, and bought an upper level prospect through my trainer a year later. He was a 17.2hh, 12 year old gray TB/Holsteiner gelding named Chinook who had been a notable jumper in a previous life. We did really well together until the winter of 2002, when he started having various lameness issues, seemingly related to his back. He took the winter mostly off, and as spring 2003 rolled around, we started him up again. Again he had lameness issues emanating from his back. After unproductive sessions with a chiropractor, we took him to a large clinic to be evaluated. He was immediately diagnosed neurological, a dreadful diagnosis meaning that there was something wrong with his nervous system and spinal column. So we proceeded to test for all known neurological diseases. We did blood tests, spinal taps, radiographs, and x-rays. We were incredibly surprised when all tests came back negative. His condition progressed from mild lameness to things much worse. He eventually lost most of his hind limb control, along with his balance and his bladder function. After a while, he preferred to stand in his stall leaning against the wall. He staggered when he walked, and one had to be extremely careful of the possibility of him falling. He had also shrank two inches as his muscles atrophied. Afraid of one of the working students getting hurt, we kept his stall door padlocked, so that he would only be handled by either my trainer or myself. Through it all, he had surprisingly few mental effects, and never lost his "spark," even as his condition worsened. That just made it more heartbreaking, to see this seemingly normal horse whose body would not cooperate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we continued to run tests and get negative results, we started to lose hope that we would ever know what the issue was in time to treat it. I watched him failing more by the day, and made the decision in the summer of 2003 to have him euthanized. It was a difficult decision, but was ultimately necessary, as he had become a danger to himself and those around him due to his severe balance impairments. We could no longer take the risk that he would fall on someone, and didn't feel right keeping him in his padlocked stall 23 hours a day. He was loaded into the trailer and tranquilized. Once he was laying in the trailer, he was put to sleep. We hauled him to the university for a necropsy. After examining his corpse, they told us that, without a doubt, he had a severe case equine protozoal myeloencephalitis or EPM. It was one of the worst cases they had ever seen, with large holes having been eaten into his spinal column in multiple places, and live larvae discovered throughout his body. They also concluded from the extent of the damage, thathe had contracted the disease well before I bought him, and were surprised that he had even been alive and still walking (wobbling) at the end and not paralyzed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EPM is a debilitating disease caused by a protozoal parasite that is carried by opossums. The parasites attacks the brain and spinal cord, causing severe damage to the central nervous system. Some horses will host the parasites for years before showing symptoms (if ever.) It is treatable, however, at considerable expense and with questionable chances of recovery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The diagnosis was the cause of many flashing lightbulbs as my trainer and I looked back on the short time I had owned him. All of a sudden, many of the quirks and habits he had developed made sense. For instance: He had become hard to shoe, fighting the farrier to the point that our farrier once had to tranquilize him and lay him down to finish a set of shoes. We thought he was being naughty. As we looked at the behavior in light of his diagnosis, we realized that he was not being naughty, he was simply unable to stand on three legs for the extended periods of time required to reset his shoes. He didn't have the muscle control or the balance needed to cooperate. The intermittant lameness and occasional stiffness and weakness was also explained, along with the occasional head-tilting I'd struggled with while riding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While we were having these "Aha!" moments, recollections of his performance came to mind, adding to the regret and disappointment. While afflicted with a serious neurological disease, we were scoring consistantly in the low-mid 70's at the lower levels. (That's extremely good.) He was progressing up the levels with ease, and taking to his new dressage career like he had been born to it. He was a sure bet for upper level work, and looked at to be a serious competitor when the time came. I still feel a strange sense of loss and grief when I think of what he might have been.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The worst part about putting Chinook down was the knowledge that if ever a horse could be a person's soul-mate, he was mine. (Don't tell my husband!) He was my perfect match. He had an unusual sensitivity, and was extremely accurate at ferreting out my moods, even when I tried to hide them. He wouldn't have anything to do with me if I was upset in any way and was trying to hide it. He couldn't stand people who were sending mixed signals, acting one way on the outside and feeling another on the inside. He didn't mind it if you were mad, or sad, or whatever, as long as you kept that integrity between the outside and the inside intact. Horses aren't capable of such maneuvering, and I suppose it confused him. He liked to know what to expect from a person. As long as he understood what you wanted, he tried his best to comply. He was comical and somewhat juvenile at times, but a serious, dedicated, honest worker when he needed to be. He had the "presence" that champions are made of...that inexplainable spark that makes them somehow better than the rest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;He was an incredible athlete, with an incredible spirit. He taught me just as much or more about myself than he did about dressage, and I will always miss him.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115888180629554913?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115888180629554913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115888180629554913' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115888180629554913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115888180629554913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/09/chinook.html' title='Chinook'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115947025940287261</id><published>2006-09-28T13:58:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-28T14:26:23.526-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Garden Pics</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/IMG_2771.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/IMG_2771.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/IMG_2769.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/IMG_2769.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/IMG_2766.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/IMG_2766.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/IMG_2763.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/IMG_2763.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/IMG_2770.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/IMG_2770.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/IMG_2767.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/IMG_2767.jpg" alt="" 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/30745991-115947025940287261?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115947025940287261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115947025940287261' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115947025940287261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115947025940287261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/09/garden-pics_28.html' title='Garden Pics'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115945985149526984</id><published>2006-09-28T11:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-28T11:10:51.513-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thursday Thirteen # 8</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://intricateart.com/blog/thursdaythirteen300.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,153,153)"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My sister-in-law's new home is just days away from completion, and it's breathtaking. It has inspired this week's T13:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,153,153);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,153,153);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;strong&gt;Thirteen Things about my Dream House&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/w208.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/w202.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,153,153)"&gt;1. It will have many flower gardens, and a vegetable garden.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,153,153)"&gt;2. It will have a large front porch, complete with hammock, rocking chair, and cats dozing in the sun.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,153,153)"&gt;3. It will have an oversized, unique front door, possibly a double door or one with a big arched transom or other interesting details.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,153,153)"&gt;4. It will have lots of big windows, especially on the west and south sides.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,153,153)"&gt;5. The interior will be painted in warm, bold, earthy colors like brown, tan, green, rust, etc.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,153,153)"&gt;6. It will have a hot tub on the back deck.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,153,153)"&gt;7. It will have a nice office/library whose walls will be lined with built-in bookcases.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,153,153)"&gt;8. It will have a large pantry off the kitchen.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,153,153)"&gt;9. The master bedroom will have a lovely four-poster bed, and master bath will have a sunken Jacuzzi tub.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,153,153)"&gt;10. There will be a quiet, serene, lovely meditation spot somewhere inside (possibly in the sunroom) and places throughout the garden to "sit a spell."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,153,153)"&gt;11. It will have 9'+ and vaulted ceilings.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,153,153)"&gt;12. The driveway will be lined with maple trees on both sides.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,153,153)"&gt;13. On a wall or above a door somewhere will be written, "There's no place like home."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,153,153)"&gt;*BONUS: It will be located on our farm, which will also contain my dream barn...but that's a topic for another post!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://thursdaythirteen.com"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://technorati.com/tag/thursday+thirteen" rel="tag"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;View More Thursday Thirteen Participants&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115945985149526984?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115945985149526984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115945985149526984' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115945985149526984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115945985149526984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/09/thursday-thirteen-8_28.html' title='Thursday Thirteen # 8'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115869159864782322</id><published>2006-09-27T00:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-28T08:42:06.290-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Apples 2006</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/IMG_2714.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/200/IMG_2714.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/IMG_2776.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/200/IMG_2776.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/IMG_2772.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/200/IMG_2772.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/IMG_2710.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/200/IMG_2710.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/IMG_2752.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/200/IMG_2752.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/IMG_2757.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/200/IMG_2757.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;My mother has several apple trees at her house. The horses find this to be a wonderful perk of living there. They especially enjoy leaning over the fence to pick them right off the tree. All of the culls go in the basement in boxes for them to enjoy over the winter. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;We've harvested most of the "crisp, tart, whites" (we don't know what variety they are, so we made up a name) and I have about 200 smallish apples to peel and do something with. If you have any good recipes, please let me know. In the next two weeks or so, we should have another tree or two ready to go, and another 200-300 apples to use. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Tonight I made two caramel apple pies. Tomorrow I might make...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;apple pie&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;apple cake&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;apple strudel&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;apple bread&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;apple muffins&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;apple sauce&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;apple juice&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;apple squares&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;apple tarts&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;apple brown betty&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;apple crisp&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;apple syrup&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;apple jelly&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;apple leather&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;apple spice&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;apple pudding&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;apple scones&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;apple dumplings&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115869159864782322?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115869159864782322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115869159864782322' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115869159864782322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115869159864782322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/09/apples-2006.html' title='Apples 2006'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115927840045522603</id><published>2006-09-26T08:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-26T10:57:28.270-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Centering Prayer</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Last night I went to the first of four sessions that I signed up for on &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);" href="http://www.centeringprayer.com/cntrgpryr.htm#Centering%20Prayer"&gt;Centering Prayer&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;.  They are being taught at a Benedictine monastery near my home. I was very impressed. The sister who is teaching the sessions is very knowledgable and interesting. We had about an hour of classroom lecture, then we went to the prayer room to practice our Centering Prayer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);" href="http://www.centeringprayer.com/"&gt;Contemplative Outreach, Ltd.&lt;/a&gt; says this about Centering Prayer:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;blockquote style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Centering Prayer is a method of prayer, which prepares us to receive the gift of God's presence, traditionally called contemplative prayer. It consists of responding to the Spirit of Christ by consenting to God’s presence and action within. It furthers the development of contemplative prayer by quieting our faculties to cooperate with the gift of God’s presence.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Centering Prayer facilitates the movement from more active modes of prayer — verbal, mental or affective prayer — into a receptive prayer of resting in God. It emphasizes prayer as a personal relationship with God. At the same time, it is a discipline to foster and serve this relationship by a regular, daily practice of prayer. It is Trinitarian in its source, Christ-centered in its focus, and ecclesial in its effects; that is, it builds communities of faith.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Centering Prayer is drawn from ancient prayer practices of the Christian contemplative heritage, notably the Fathers and Mothers of the Desert, Lectio Divina, (praying the scriptures), The Cloud of Unknowing, St. John of the Cross and St. Teresa of Avila.. It was distilled into a simple method of prayer in the 1970’s by three Trappist monks, Fr. William Meninger, Fr. Basil Pennington and Abbot Thomas Keating at the Trappist Abbey, St. Joseph’s Abbey in Spencer, Massachusetts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;The &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);" href="http://www.thecentering.org/centering_method.html"&gt;guidelines&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt; that you are to follow in Centering Prayer are:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;-Choose a sacred word as the symbol of your intention to consent to God's presence and action within. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;-Sitting comfortably and with eyes closed, settle briefly and silently introduce the sacred word as the symbol of your consent to God's presence and action within. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;-When you become aware of thoughts, return ever-so-gently to the sacred word. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;-At the end of the prayer period, remain in silence with eyes closed for a couple of minutes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;During the twenty minutes of prayer, I had some interesting experiences.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;-My body got very heavy, to the point where I felt as through someone were pushing down on me. I could hardly lift my head or my hands.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;-My eyes stayed shut of their own accord, I was not tempted to open them and look around and am not sure I would have been able to.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;-I had a curious sense of pains in my body. I tend to hold tension and stress in my shoulders and as I sat there I felt some sharp pains in my shoulders, that had not been there previously, and they gradually melted away. I also felt some vague aches in my hips and legs sharpen and gradually fade, and they have not returned. I'm certain that this was caused by the relaxation and tension leaving my body.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;-Time passed in a blink, the twenty minutes was too quickly over. I did not have many intrusive thoughts, and found it easier than I thought it would be to return to my word.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;-I had a hard time "coming to" after the prayer session was over. I didn't want to open my eyes and get out of my chair. It was such a quiet, peaceful experience, I didn't want it to end.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Like any form of meditation, it helps a person to relieve stress and let go of concerns. It brings you out of the hustle and bustle of everyday life and into a quiet place where you can rest in God. It's like clearing a place in your heart for God to stay, and then stopping for twenty minutes a day to visit him there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;I have the feeling that I will have a hard time incorporating this into my life, but I think that it's worth trying. The goal is to do 20 minutes or more twice a day, but I think I'll start with 15 minutes once a day, and see how that goes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Read more about Centering Prayer &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);" href="http://www.catholicherald.com/cns/centering.htm"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt; and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);" href="http://www.livingrosaries.org/centeringprayer.htm"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt; and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);" href="http://www.freecatholiccommunion.org/centeringprayer.htm"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.catholicherald.com/cns/centering.htm"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115927840045522603?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115927840045522603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115927840045522603' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115927840045522603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115927840045522603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/09/centering-prayer.html' title='Centering Prayer'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115919253541266402</id><published>2006-09-25T08:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-25T09:01:44.133-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/mmbanner1.7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/mmbanner1.6.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;1. From &lt;a href="http://helpimagrownup.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;i&gt;jstar&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/a&gt;: Holiday in Europe or Asia?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-size:100%;" &gt;How about a Mediterranean cruise? Either that or a dressage riding vacation in Portugal. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. From &lt;a href="http://granni39.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;i&gt;sherle&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/a&gt;: How do you try to change a behavior pattern you don't like about yourself... whether it's chewing fingernails, overeating, smoking, or picking your nose?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-size:100%;" &gt;Usually my husband nags me until I quit. He has cured me of many things, like scraping my teeth on my fork, leaving the lights on, etc. I don't have a lot of self discipline when it comes to things like that. If I am trying to change something though, it helps me if I write down my goal and put it somewhere where I will see it. It also helps to have a buddy to help you stick to it and hold you accountable. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. From &lt;a href="http://fan4.diaryland.com/"&gt;&lt;i&gt;tricia&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/a&gt;: Have you ever successfully completed a Sudoku puzzle?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-size:100%;" &gt;Nope. Never even started one! Numbers are not my thing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. From &lt;a href="http://caylynn.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;i&gt;caylynn&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/a&gt;: What website do you visit the most often?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-size:100%;" &gt;MSN.com, because it's my homepage. After that, probably Hotmail and Blogger! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. From &lt;a href="http://www.timetobelieve.net/blog/"&gt;&lt;i&gt;michael morgan&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/a&gt;: What was your favorite thing about high school or college&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-size:100%;" &gt;There aren't many things I liked about high school, but some of the teachers made it worth while. For college, I would have to say that just doing it was my favorite thing. After high school, I waited 7 years to go back, so it was fun to just finally be able to go!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://mmadness.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);"&gt;Monday Madness&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115919253541266402?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115919253541266402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115919253541266402' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115919253541266402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115919253541266402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/09/1_25.html' title=''/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115919177450370653</id><published>2006-09-25T08:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-25T08:46:32.676-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Wagon Rides - Always a Big Hit</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/IMG_2700.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 170px; height: 113px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/200/IMG_2700.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/IMG_2629.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 173px; height: 115px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/200/IMG_2629.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&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;This weekend we did wagon rides at the grand opening of my friend's new dressage barn. It was a fun time. The weather was cold and drizzly and dreary all day, but that didn't slow us down! We would just get the people off the wagon and more were climbing on!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;About 300 people showed up for the event, and we did rides for about 5 hours. The girls were very good, and very popular! They tolerated lots of pictures and petting. It's kind of fun to be "those people with the awesome draft horses."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;We also did some trail riding while we were there, which was fun. We even got a decent canter out of both of them out on the trail, which is no small feat. They are not allowed to canter in harness, so they aren't very good at it. Combine that with the fact that they aren't always very motivated, and it makes getting a canter out of them at all a difficult task, much less a nice one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;Jill got her back adjusted by their equine chiropractor, and she was mis-aligned in the lower back. After he adjustment, the problem with her hip catching went away, for which I am grateful. Unfortunately, he didn't have any suggestions for her itching!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;It was a long, busy weekend, and I'm happy to be back at work so I can relax!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115919177450370653?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115919177450370653/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115919177450370653' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115919177450370653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115919177450370653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/09/wagon-rides-always-big-hit.html' title='Wagon Rides - Always a Big Hit'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115895133472033140</id><published>2006-09-22T13:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-22T14:01:52.066-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Of Gnomes And Army Men...</title><content type='html'>thi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/5988186_36_1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/200/5988186_36_1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;The story about the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);" href="http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20060921/ap_on_fe_st/roaming_gnome_3"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;roaming gnome&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt; made me laugh.  We have a roaming army man at my mom's house. My mom has this little green army man  that sits on the window sill above her sink. Well, he actually lays with his gun propped up on a rock, becuase he's a "prone sniper." S&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;he found him in the kitchen when she moved into the house a year or so ago, and he's been there ever since. My husband, my sister, and I find  great joy in hiding it from her in unlikely places. The only rule is that he  can't leave the kitchen on his "missions." Occasionally he has friends that come and visit, like the bottom half of another army man we found in the horse pasture, and a little lego man we found in a parking lot. I think tonight I'm going to put him in the milk jug.  (After washing him, of course!) What fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/zzww2mx1h.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/zzww2mx1h.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;Guess what my mom is getting in her Christmas stocking this year!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;As I was looking for a picture of an army man, I found &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://www.thortrains.net/armymen/"&gt;this &lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;website that has everything about army men that you'd ever want to know. It's almost scary, in a way!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115895133472033140?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115895133472033140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115895133472033140' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115895133472033140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115895133472033140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/09/of-gnomes-and-army-men.html' title='Of Gnomes And Army Men...'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115803062443169332</id><published>2006-09-21T08:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-21T23:15:35.236-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thursday Thirteen # 7</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://intricateart.com/blog/thursdaythirteen300.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sunday, September 17 was our second wedding anniversary so here's:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;strong&gt;Thirteen Things about Our Wedding Day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/w208.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 88px; height: 111px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/200/w208.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/w202.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 97px; height: 119px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/200/w202.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;1. I &lt;em&gt;loved&lt;/em&gt; my dress, which was very sparkly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;2. WH was very handsome in black tails.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;3. We drove away from the ceremony in a semi truck.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;4. We had three flower girls.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;5.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt; Everything was swans: invites, programs, centerpieces, cake toppers, etc.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt; (because swans mate for life)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;6. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;I stressed out WAY too much about all the details.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;7. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;The weather was perfect.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;8. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;Our first dance song was "Can I Have This Dance" by Anne Murray.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;9. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;Our priest was Irish, complete with accent. Very fun.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;10. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;The bridesmaids wore plum dresses.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;11. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;I had a slumber party with the bridesmaids the night before.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;12. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;I finally got to say "I do" after six and a half long years of waiting.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;13. The best part is I &lt;em&gt;still&lt;/em&gt; do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://thursdaythirteen.com"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://technorati.com/tag/thursday+thirteen" rel="tag"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;View More Thursday Thirteen Participants&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115803062443169332?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115803062443169332/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115803062443169332' title='17 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115803062443169332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115803062443169332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/09/thursday-thirteen-7.html' title='Thursday Thirteen # 7'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>17</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115876337423275197</id><published>2006-09-20T13:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-20T13:32:45.030-05:00</updated><title type='text'>MetroNaps - Welcome to the future of workforce productivity.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img class="adfloatL" src="http://www.metronaps.com/imagery/recline2.jpg" align="left" /&gt;MetroNaps provides America with mid-day rest facilities: a clean, comfortable place to take a nap. MetroNaps was born from the realization that many employees spend significant amounts of their day dozing at their desk or catching powernaps in odd places. We seek to be the premier provider of professional nap centers in the United States.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Read more &lt;a href="http://www.metronaps.com/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.wired.com/news/business/0,1367,65669,00.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I showed it to one of our "employee representatives" and suggested she request a pod for us at the next committee meeting. I think it's a wonderful idea! I love it! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115876337423275197?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115876337423275197/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115876337423275197' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115876337423275197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115876337423275197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/09/metronaps-welcome-to-future-of.html' title='MetroNaps - Welcome to the future of workforce productivity.'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115872285975622320</id><published>2006-09-19T22:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-19T22:27:39.766-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;Tonight, my husband reminded me of something we heard at my sister's horse show this past summer and I had to share, even though it's old...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;Mother to her pre-teen daughter, "It doesn't matter how you do, as long as you look good." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;Way to teach some values there, Mom. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115872285975622320?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115872285975622320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115872285975622320' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115872285975622320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115872285975622320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/09/tonight-my-husband-reminded-me-of.html' title=''/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115869116067377418</id><published>2006-09-19T13:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-20T13:24:33.030-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Jill, The Problem Child</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(153,51,153)"&gt;Jill is definitely our problem child. I wrote about the &lt;a href="http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/08/injection-rodeo.html"&gt;Injection Rodeo&lt;/a&gt; a while ago. She seems to be breathing better, but I can't honestly say it's from the penicillin and not from the weather or some other unknown factor. Now she's apparently decided that we are bored with a healthy horse, so she has discovered two new ailments to test us with. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(153,51,153)"&gt;&lt;?xml:namespace prefix = o /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(153,51,153)"&gt;Ailment #1: She’s itchy. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(153,51,153)"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(153,51,153)"&gt;Not just, “Please scratch my withers” itchy, but incredibly, amazingly, massively itchy. Itchy enough that she’s been rubbing the trees in her pasture smooth as she rubs bare patches in her hide. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(153,51,153)"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(153,51,153)"&gt;So we wondered, why is she itchy? The itchy spots are mostly on her neck and shoulders. We discarded many theories such as allergies, contaminated hay, contact with some weed, sweat, something from her collar, etc. before we settled on bugs. She does sometimes have small bumps that give her great pleasure when you scratch them, but they just don’t feel like hives to me, so I’m really hoping they’re just bug bites. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(153,51,153)"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(153,51,153)"&gt;In line with this theory, we debated and ended up dousing her with a delousing insecticide – guaranteed to kill and repel all kinds of nasties like lice, mites, ticks, flies, gnats, mosquitoes, etc. It’s supposed to last two weeks, and we’re kind of hoping that the bugs will be pretty much gone by then. It was a kind of tough decision, as I wasn’t sure I wanted to soak my poor horse in chemicals, but I don’t want her spreading some nasty bugs to anyone else, or getting a secondary infection from rubbing her skin bloody, either. She didn’t seem to mind it, though, and the bugs don’t seem to be bothering her. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(153,51,153)"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(153,51,153)"&gt;This theory also included Maximum Strength Gold Bond Powder applied liberally to the itchy places. Now I have a horse that doesn’t seem to be itching, but is half black and half grey. Oh, well, as long as it works. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(153,51,153)"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(153,51,153)"&gt;Ailment #2: Something is all wonky in her left hip.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(153,51,153)"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(153,51,153)"&gt;When I pick up her left hind foot, something catches in her hip and hurts. It’s like something is getting mildly dislocated. She can’t just stand there and put her weight on it, she needs to hobble forward until it clicks and then it’s okay again. Then we can go on with our day like nothing ever happened. She doesn’t seem sore after it clicks, and I can’t find any spots that hurt if I poke around. Thankfully, she’s going to the chiropractor for an adjustment this weekend. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(153,51,153)"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(153,51,153)"&gt;This weekend we are trading hayrides for the grand opening of my former dressage instructor’s new facility for an adjustment for Jill. Her husband is an alternative chiropractor, and I’ll be curious to see what he has to say about her. Especially in light of this new problem.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(153,51,153)"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(153,51,153)"&gt;Someday I'll post about Dolly, too, but right now she's normal and healthy and boring. As far as I'm concerned, she can stay that way!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:';font-size:12;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115869116067377418?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115869116067377418/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115869116067377418' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115869116067377418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115869116067377418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/09/jill-problem-child.html' title='Jill, The Problem Child'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115768730270816412</id><published>2006-09-19T08:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-19T13:58:08.203-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Garden Pics</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/IMG_1168.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/IMG_1168.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/sept%207,%202006%20-%20%207.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/sept%207%2C%202006%20-%20%207.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/sept%207,%202006%20-%20%205.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/sept%207%2C%202006%20-%20%205.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/sept%207,%202006%20-%20%208.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/sept%207%2C%202006%20-%20%208.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/sept%207,%202006%20-%20%2011.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/sept%207%2C%202006%20-%20%2011.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/30745991-115768730270816412?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115768730270816412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115768730270816412' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115768730270816412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115768730270816412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/09/garden-pics.html' title='Garden Pics'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115862786950572717</id><published>2006-09-18T19:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-05T22:05:28.033-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Anniversary # 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/alexandrite.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/400/alexandrite.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;Sunday was our second wedding anniversary. Some days it is hard to believe it's already been two years. Some days it is hard to believe that it's only been two years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/IMG_0293.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 147px; height: 98px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/200/IMG_0293.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;Last year, on our first anniversary, we brought home &lt;a href="http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/08/injection-rodeo.html"&gt;the girls&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt; This year the gift giving was a little different. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;WH has been wanting for some time to put a hitch on his car. The idea is that he can then haul stuff around on his uncle's little trailer, so we don't have to borrow a truck just to go pick up 2x4's or haul stuff to the city compost pile. He would also be able to tow the hay wagon we have for our horses, rather than again borrowing a truck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;So he was gone for work last week, and while he was gone I called his good friend who happens to be a mechanic, and said, "Can you get a hitch on WH's car by the time he gets home on Thursday?" Of course, he says, "Sure. Won't even cost ya. Just bring it out after work some night." So I got the hitch and he put it on for me. (For the record, I probably could have done it myself, but it's so much easier with a hoist!) Took him about 20 minutes. The receiver part of the hitch came in a cute little box, so I wrapped that up. He opened it on Friday when he came home and was very impressed. Happy Anniversary, WH.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;On Saturday we went to my mom's and she had a card for us. It read, "When you are sad and flustered, not happy or a little blue, don't take it too far, just reach for your "Why I Love You &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/IMG_2608.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/200/IMG_2608.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;Jar." She also had two little jars with blank papers inside. She informed us that we are to fill out the papers with memories, things we like about the other, etc. and when we are done we give the jar with the papers in it to the other. Then when we're feeling a little unloved or times are rough, we can just reach in and pull out a paper and be reminded that we are loved and we do have good times, too.  How fun! Now I just have to get WH to fill out his papers! Happy Anniversary, Kids!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;On Saturday night, we finally got to bed at about 12:30am. When I came in there was a little wrapped box with a cute little bow sitting on my pillow. I know what t&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/IMG_2616.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 206px; height: 138px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/200/IMG_2616.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;hat means! He said it had been a while since I'd recieved "real" jewelry and inside was this:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it's a Mystic Fire Topaz, but he couldn't remember, so&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/tpz525.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 81px; height: 88px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/200/tpz525.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt; when I take my wedding ring in to get cleaned and checked, I'll have to ask. It's very neat, it changes color with the light, and it's about 1/2 carat on a pretty, short, dainty chain. He has very good taste. Happy Anniversary, Amaranth!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;::UPDATE:: It's actually a created Alexandrite&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/alexandrite.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/400/alexandrite.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115862786950572717?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115862786950572717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115862786950572717' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115862786950572717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115862786950572717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/09/happy-anniversary-2.html' title='Happy Anniversary # 2'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115859987171647486</id><published>2006-09-18T12:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-18T12:19:12.673-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Freezer Meals</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;This weekend I was talking to my sister-in-law and she was telling me about her idea to start making freezer meals. Basically this is going to involve spending one day a month cooking mass quantities of food and freezing it, so that all you have to do is thaw it and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;viola!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt; you have dinner.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For her it's a great idea. She has four rambunctious boys that she homeschools, and the last thing she wants to have to worry about is what's for dinner. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For me, it's a great idea, because I hate to cook. Part of the reason I hate to cook is because I think it's boring. Another reason is that I hate cooking for just one, which is what it feels like I do, since I really don't see WH during the week. I really would like to make good, homecooked food more often, I just don't like to. Making freezer meals will force me to cook and give me food for dinner and WH food for his lunches, with a minimal amount of effort on my part. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Best part is, we're going to do it together with one other sister-in-law (making three of us), and rotate houses. That way, we can make it a social event, which is way more fun than just cooking by yourself. By making triple recipes, we can share dishes, and each of us can have more variety. And since we will be rotating houses, the same person doesn't end up will all the stress of hosting every time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perfect! Why didn't we think of this sooner?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;Please let me know if you have any good recipes that freeze well, or any tips to share. I'll let you know how it goes! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115859987171647486?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115859987171647486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115859987171647486' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115859987171647486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115859987171647486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/09/freezer-meals.html' title='Freezer Meals'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115859023969475338</id><published>2006-09-18T09:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-18T09:37:42.650-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/mmbanner1.6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/mmbanner1.5.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. How do you eat an oreo cookie?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Dunked in milk.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. How long does it take  you to eat lunch?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Twenty minutes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Caffeine or decaf?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Neither. I can't stand coffee!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Chicken or beef?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Chicken. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Pen or  pencil?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Pen. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Autumn or spring?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Autumn - spring is too messy!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Baseball or basketball?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;If I HAD to choose...baseball.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. 'Survivor'  or 'The Amazing Race?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Neither. I don't watch much TV, partially becuase I have better things to do and partially becuase I only get three stations. These shows aren't on any of them. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Come up with one question I can ask our Monday  Madness participants in the weeks to come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Name three people you would pick (and why) if you could choose who to be stranded on a deserted island with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://mmadness.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Monday Madness&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115859023969475338?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115859023969475338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115859023969475338' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115859023969475338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115859023969475338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/09/1_18.html' title=''/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115802972442514625</id><published>2006-09-14T07:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T13:53:01.373-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thursday Thirteen # 6</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://intricateart.com/blog/thursdaythirteen300.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;In keeping with last week's theme, here's:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;strong&gt;Thirteen Things I Like About My Husband&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;1. He has a great smile with nice straight, white teeth, and pretty blue eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;2. He likes toys that light up and/or spin.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;3. He likes our horses and is good with them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;4. He can fix stuff like cars and waterheaters and broken hearts, and make stuff like shelves and desks and dinner.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;5. He accepts and understands all of my issues, quirks, and habits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;6. He likes to dance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;7. His family is extrememly important to him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;8. He's a country boy at heart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;9. He's big and tall and strong and makes me feel safe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;10. He always does the best he can at whatever he does.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;11. He kills the bugs, traps the mice, and sprays the weeds.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;12. He is a good kisser, and gives good hugs, too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;13. He picked me!&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://thursdaythirteen.com"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://technorati.com/tag/thursday+thirteen" rel="tag"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;View More Thursday Thirteen Participants&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&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/30745991-115802972442514625?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115802972442514625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115802972442514625' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115802972442514625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115802972442514625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/09/thursday-thirteen-6_14.html' title='Thursday Thirteen # 6'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115816068057052390</id><published>2006-09-13T10:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-13T10:18:05.343-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Leave Your Vanity At The (Barn) Door</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;Ok, I've posted &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);" href="http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/09/what-is-beautiful.html"&gt;before&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt; about the cultural standards of beauty and some of my thoughts about it, but last night I realized something. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;Vanity(Pride) is something I'm working to change in myself. I don't want to care so much about what other people think about how I look. It causes so much stress in my life and is so expensive and is such a time-waster. I'd much rather spend that hour or more a day worrying about how to cultivate my &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;inner&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt; beauty. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;I look at the cupboard full of beauty products, and I have to wonder... do I need all this stuff to make me feel pretty on the outside because I feel ugly on the inside? Hey Jules on Maced with Grace &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);" href="http://macedwithgrace.squarespace.com/i-got-nuthin/2006/9/9/excess-week-two.html"&gt;posted&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt; this question a while ago and it really struck me. I'm hoping that if I can change things in my life to make me feel better about myself on the inside then I will start to feel better about myself on the outside, too. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);" id="en-NIV-30412" class="sup"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;Last night, I was at the barn with the therapeutic riding program that I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);" href="http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/08/i-think-of-those-smiles.html"&gt;volunteer&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt; with, and I realized that not once since I got there did I worry about how I looked. I was in grubby old jeans, and an untucked t-shirt, topped with a flannel shirt that didn't match and dirty old tennis shoes. I had dirt on my hands and dust in my hair. My makeup had long since worn off. However, I didn't think of any of that. Everyone else looked about the same. No one expected me to smell good, and dress pretty, and look perfect. The kiddos didn't care. The horses didn't care. I was having fun, and doing something that makes me feel good and worthwhile and useful. I was making a difference, and caring more about someone else than I do myself. A smile was the only thing I needed, and I had plenty of those. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;Thinking about it, I've always felt most comfortable in a barn. I grew up with a horse that helped me through the torture of my teenage years. When I had a terrible haircut, and worse skin, and wasn't wearing the coolest clothes, he still loved me. Even today, I am still happier in "barn clothes" working with my horses than I am in satin and sequins being the life of the party.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;Society judges you based on how you &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;look&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;. Horses judge you based on how you &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;act&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;. I don't have to worry that the horses are going to talk about my outfit when I leave. I don't have to worry that they aren't going to think less of me becuase I didn't do my makeup just right, or my hair style is outdated. They care way more about what kind of person I am and what I'm like on the inside, and they don't give a squat about how I look on the outside. They care about integrity, fairness, gentleness, and an understanding spirit...exactly what I'd like to cultivate in myself. Maybe all of this has something to do with why women and girls are so drawn to horses. Because it's the one place they can really be accepted for who they are, where they can relax and&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt; leave all that pressure at the door and just be themselves.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;The same goes for our disabled kiddos. Horses don't see leg braces and twisted spines. They don't see blind eyes and missing limbs. They don't care about the behavior problems or learning disabilities.  All they see is the beauty on the inside. The horses don't know that these kiddos aren't "normal" so they don't treat them any differently than they treat other people. These kids are finally accepted unconditionally, and are treated just like everyone else. That is something that our human society will never be able to accomplish. That is what makes the program so successful. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande; color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:78%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);" id="en-NIV-30412" class="sup"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;" id="en-NIV-30413" class="sup"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God's sight. 1 Peter 3:3-4&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115816068057052390?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115816068057052390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115816068057052390' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115816068057052390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115816068057052390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/09/leave-your-vanity-at-barn-door.html' title='Leave Your Vanity At The (Barn) Door'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115809391815311485</id><published>2006-09-12T15:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-12T15:45:18.166-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ready</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/ready.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/ready.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Too cute not to post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115809391815311485?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115809391815311485/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115809391815311485' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115809391815311485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115809391815311485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/09/ready.html' title='Ready'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115803146115461255</id><published>2006-09-11T23:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-11T22:24:21.910-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Different View of 9-11</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/060911_Magnum-THoepker.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/060911_Magnum-THoepker.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not yet sure how I feel about this picture. I found it &lt;a href="http://www.slate.com/id/2149368/?GT1=8592"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;. There's a lot of debate in the comments on the site. What do you think about it? Which side are you on?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115803146115461255?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115803146115461255/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115803146115461255' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115803146115461255'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115803146115461255'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/09/different-view-of-9-11.html' title='A Different View of 9-11'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115802672498270670</id><published>2006-09-11T20:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-11T21:05:25.043-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Proud To Be A Country Bumpkin</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;In October we are going on a caribbean cruise with two other couples. One couple (Couple 1) are friends, but the other we didn't know (Couple 2).  This past weekend we all went out to dinner, so that we could meet the other couple before the trip. It was an interesting night. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;We don't have a whole super lot in common with Couple 1, and didn't realize that they are best friends with Couple 2, whom we have even less in common with. For instance: both couples live and work in the city - WH also works in the city, but we live as far away as we can with gas prices, and have plans to move to the country. Both couples are really competitive and really into sports - we're not at all. Couple 2 is engaged, Couple 1 is just dating - we are married. Both couples have been on this cruise numerous times, and go on vacation a lot - we have never been to the caribbean, and tend to stay closer to home, only going on a major vacation every 2 years or so. Both couples are really into the bar/party scene - we are not at all. Both couples drink a lot - we don't drink at all. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Dinner consisted of a lot of personal conversation between Couple 1 and Couple 2, and I felt a little excluded. The food was terrible. Well, I should clarify, mine was fine, but WH's was terrible.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Then we went and played some pool and darts in the bar. It was fun, although WH and I rarely do that sort of thing. We don't drink and don't like smoke, and we don't like to spend a lot of time in bars. Both of the other couples were drinking quite a bit, which got a little irritating, as did the smoke. (Although no one in our group was smoking, it was still thick.) WH was wearing his cowboy boots, which got some comments. Later on, in the car, he said, "I think they were making fun of my boots." I agreed that they probably were, but not to let it bother him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;After that we went and sat by the dance floor. WH and I love to dance, but not to rap and hip-hop. The other two girls were out there dancing up a storm, and I joined them a few times, but could never get into it. I'm not comfortable dancing like they were, and I didn't know the music that well. It just felt weird. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;We were the first ones to leave, and as we drove home, WH said, "I bet they think we're just country bumpkins." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;I replied, "Good. Because that's what we are. There's nothing else I'd rather be."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;I have a feeling it might be a long vacation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115802672498270670?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115802672498270670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115802672498270670' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115802672498270670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115802672498270670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/09/proud-to-be-country-bumpkin.html' title='Proud To Be A Country Bumpkin'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115799787823948267</id><published>2006-09-11T12:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-11T13:07:35.163-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/mmbanner1.4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/mmbanner1.3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. How long have you been blogging?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Since July 7, 2006 - just over 2 months.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. How many times have you taken a break from blogging?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;I don't usually blog on the weekends...does that count?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. How long is the longest you've gone, so far, without posting on your blog?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;A few days.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. How many fellow bloggers do you keep in touch with, through your blogs, on a regular basis?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Maybe 8-10.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Have you ever met, in person, a blogger on your blogroll?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Nope&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. How often do you update/change the 'extra' stuff on your blog?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Once a week at best. I add new Must Reads as I find them, though.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Do you think you'll be blogging for years to come?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;I think so. I am really enjoying having a place to put my thoughts, and exploring everyone else's. Reading what other people have to ay makes me think about how I feel about the topic, and I like that challenge. I don't want to be a person that doesn't know &lt;em&gt;why&lt;/em&gt; they believe what they do, or the kind that just believes what they're told, without really thinking it through. Blogging helps me to think about my beliefs. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115799787823948267?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115799787823948267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115799787823948267' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115799787823948267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115799787823948267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/09/1_11.html' title=''/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115798916117082397</id><published>2006-09-11T11:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-11T11:38:42.256-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Remembering 9-11</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/11_worldtrade.3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/11_worldtrade.3.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning on the radio, they announced that the nation was to spend a moment in silence at 8:46 am eastern standard time remembering the tragedy of 9-11. It's unbelievable to think that it was already 5 years ago. It's the first "American tragedy" that I have been through and I now understand how people can remember for 50 years what they were doing when a certain event unfolded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;died. We got into the truck stop, and joined the silent crowd gathered around the TV, and finally got the whole story. A plane had crashed into one of the Twin Towers. We quietly speculated about the cause, did the pilot have a heart attack, was he drunk, what was going on? No one thought that it had been done on purpose. Then, we watched in horror when we saw, on live TV,  United Flight 175 slammed into the south tower at 9:03 a.m. You could hear the screams of the witnesses, and sense the confusion and terror and panic. One of the big, burly truckers next to us cried. Many prayed. Most, like myself, were still in a state of shock and disbelief. We &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/11_worldtrade_fire.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/11_worldtrade_fire.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;watched as the towers were filled with smoke and flames, saw people jumping from windows 100 stories up. The entire country, including our impromptu family at the truck stop, watched the towers fall. No one, however, could yet grasp the reality of the situation. We couldn't wrap our brains around the fact that there were still people in the towers when they fell. We weren't able to think of the people killed in the planes. We didn't think of the countless police and firefighters on the scene. We were reeling. As time moved on, my mom and I was in the car with my mom on the way back from a funeral on the east coast. We were pulling into a truck stop for gas and breakfast when the radio station cut into the music with breaking news. I didn't pay any attention and changed the channel, looking for more music. As I flipped through the stations, I started to notice that all the stations were playing the same news. I almost thought it was some kind of joke, like the war of the worlds. We started to listen, and realized that something bad was really happening, but by that time, we couldn't quite figure out what was happening, all we knew is that something had happened in New York and people had I got our breakfast, and ate mostly in silence. My mom brought up other things from history that she remembered, but I couldn't quite understand. We went on our way, avoiding Chicago, as people were worried about the Sears Tower being targeted. We heard about the other planes at the pentagon and in Pennsylvania, but those weren't really sinking in either. It wasn't until the days following that attacks that the devastation became clearer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/wtc26.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/wtc26.2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It wasn't until this year that I really felt it personally. Why this year? I don't know. All I can figure is that I'm mature enough now to understand. Mature enough to care beyond my immediate circle. When the attacks happened, I was 21, and in typical 21 year old fashion, I cared only for myself. Since the attacks didn't touch me personally, I shrugged and said, gee that's too bad, and went on with my life. Today I feel differently. Today I pray for those killed, those who survived, and for the families torn apart. Today I looked on in disgust as flags fly high, rather than at half staff. Today I don't change the channel as the patriotic and post-attack songs come on the radio. Today I remember.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115798916117082397?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115798916117082397/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115798916117082397' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115798916117082397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115798916117082397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/09/remembering-9-11.html' title='Remembering 9-11'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115802694759627098</id><published>2006-09-10T18:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-11T21:09:47.803-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's A Boy!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;We are proud to welcome our new nephew Riley into the family. He was born Saturday to WH's youngest brother and his wife. He is their first baby, and they are happy as clams. Welcome to the family, Riley!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115802694759627098?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115802694759627098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115802694759627098' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115802694759627098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115802694759627098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/09/its-boy.html' title='It&apos;s A Boy!'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115768568017009935</id><published>2006-09-08T12:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-08T16:02:53.760-05:00</updated><title type='text'>NO Pets!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/small1.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/small1.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Please note that the dog already on the deck...and had to walk past the sign to get there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Just be glad I didn't show you what was at the &lt;em&gt;other&lt;/em&gt; end of the leash!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115768568017009935?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115768568017009935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115768568017009935' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115768568017009935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115768568017009935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/09/no-pets.html' title='NO Pets!'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115751122269691524</id><published>2006-09-07T21:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-07T21:41:58.006-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Time - Opposite Schedules</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;A few of the blogs on my ever-growing list of Must-Reads have posted lately about time. How it changes, how we spend it, what it means. Of, course, it got me thinking about it, too. Isn't that one of the best parts of blogging, how it makes us think? This may end up being a series of posts, we'll see how it goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first thing that comes to mind when I think about time is our (my and my husband's) schedules. I work days Monday through Friday, from 8:00am to 5:00pm. My husband works nights Monday through Thursday, from 4:30pm to 4:00am. Lately he has been working until 5:00am. You must also take into acccount that he has an hour drive. So, that means, Monday through Thursday, I see him for approximately 12 seconds per day, as he gets home at 6:00am and gets to bed around 6:25am, which is when I am getting up to get ready for work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the weekends, we are always running, and most of the time we spend together is in the car. We are always checking up on my 92 year old grampa, visiting his family, and taking care of our horses, which are 45 minutes away at my mom's house. To add to the confusion, I am very involved in a therapeutic riding program, and occasionally spend time on the weekends volunteering for various things. I am also my sister's shopping coordinator, and tend to do things with her on ther weekends, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What does all of this mean for us? Well, sometimes, it's the recipe for a perfect marraige. Other times, it's a recipe for disaster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the most part, though, I really like the fact that my Wonderful Husband (WH) and I work opposite shifts. He would rather work nights, and I like having my nights free to do with what I wish, be it volunteering, taking classes, quilting, gardening, visiting friends, or even just blogging and surfing! In that regard, it's really nice, becuase he's happier on nights, and I don't feel guilty about doing my own thing and leaving him behind. I enjoy the independance it gives me, because I don't feel that I have to check in, or be home at a certain time, or have every move accounted for. If I stop at the mall for a quick second after work, and end up shopping for four hours, he doesn't care, becuase he's not sitting home waiting for me. If I get home and feel like curling up with a book or watching a movie with a friend, he doesn't care becuase it doesn't affect him as he's at work. The extra day off during the week, extra week of vacation, and 20% shift differential helps, too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I don't like about the arrangement is the lack of communication. We don't talk to each other during the week except via email and for about 15 minutes on his lunch break at 10pm. When we do talk, it's not about much, because who wants to get into anything deep or serious when you know you won't be able to finish it. Because of that I get upset about the fact that we don't have a lot of &lt;em&gt;conversation, &lt;/em&gt;just a lot of small talk. It also bothers me because it's harder to resolve issues that come up and they tend to fester. Especially since we're both the "avoidance and withdrawl" kind. I don't bring things up on the weekends, either, because I don't want to spoil the time we &lt;em&gt;do&lt;/em&gt; have together by arguing. So it festers some more. It's one of those things I'm working on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also miss having someone to cuddle with during the week, and just having someone around. Sometimes the house is kinda empty feeling at night. I also miss having a WH around to fix things, kill bugs, reach high places, etc. I am perfectly capable of doing those things myself, but I think it was in our vows somewhere that those are his responsibilities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't like that I'm left to do everything. Since he's working 12 hour days, with an hour commute each way, it doesn't leave much time for him to sleep and eat AND help around the house. So I do all the shopping and cleaning and laundry. I don't cook hardly at all during the week (or much on weekends) or I'd list that, too. I take care of all the bills, financial stuff, and everything else that comes with running a house. It gets tiring sometimes with no help. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;One of the interesting things about our schedules is that he can come into the house and crawl into bed and cuddle with me, and I don't realize it until I wake up and he's there beside me. I don't hear him, don't feel him, don't even know he's home. I sure hope I would notice if a stranger came into our house and crawled into bed with me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someday, he will change to days. If we have a baby, I'd want him on days eventually. If we move to a place in the country where we can have our horses at home, he would probably have to change jobs, hopefully to one on a day shift. Until then, we make do. It's not perfect, but it works for us for now. Honestly, I don't know what I'd do if WH was home every night! I love him dearly, but I'm so used to my freedom, I'm afraid he'd drive me crazy!&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/30745991-115751122269691524?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115751122269691524/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115751122269691524' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115751122269691524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115751122269691524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/09/time-opposite-schedules.html' title='Time - Opposite Schedules'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115763583340659004</id><published>2006-09-07T08:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-07T12:55:58.436-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Heavy Equipment</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/Trencher2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/Trencher2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just because this is the sort of thing that my wonderful husband would find amazingly fascinating...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.swapmeetdave.com/Humor/Workshop/Trencher.htm"&gt;http://www.swapmeetdave.com/Humor/Workshop/Trencher.htm&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Thanks to &lt;a href="http://defrostindoors.blogspot.com/"&gt;Doe&lt;/a&gt; for the link!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115763583340659004?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115763583340659004/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115763583340659004' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115763583340659004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115763583340659004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/09/heavy-equipment.html' title='Heavy Equipment'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115760457279653454</id><published>2006-09-06T23:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-07T15:43:51.483-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thursday Thirteen # 5</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://intricateart.com/blog/thursdaythirteen300.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#339999;"&gt;Denise's Challenge:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#339999;"&gt;“I would like to challenge all Thirteeners to come up with 13 things they like about themselves. I feel like we, as women, spend so much time scrutinizing ourselves that we sometimes forget the good stuff.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#339999;"&gt;Thirteen Things I Like About Me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;1. That I am saved by grace through faith.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;2. That I love to learn, read, etc.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;3. That I have an unusual amount of brain cells devoted to song lyrics.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;4. That I can keep an open mind and appreciate all people.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;5. That I am organized.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;6. That I share my time through volunteering.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;7. That I don't have to wear glasses anymore.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;8. That I am a country girl at heart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;9. That I have a nice figure.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;10. That I am always looking for and open to ways to grow.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;11. That I am a good sister and daughter.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;12. That I am lucky enough to be married to a wonderful, handsome, amazing man.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;13. That I am comfortable being me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://thursdaythirteen.com"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://technorati.com/tag/thursday+thirteen" rel="tag"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;View More Thursday Thirteen Participants&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&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/30745991-115760457279653454?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115760457279653454/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115760457279653454' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115760457279653454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115760457279653454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/09/thursday-thirteen-5.html' title='Thursday Thirteen # 5'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115379306005267931</id><published>2006-09-05T23:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-06T14:51:34.853-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What is Beautiful?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;Beauty comes in all sizes — not just size 5.&lt;br /&gt;~Roseanne&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;I often wonder, who determines what we think of as beauty? More often than not, it's television and movies. When all we see on TV is unnaturally beautiful women, is it any wonder that low self-esteem is rampant among women today? I am not a perfect, ideal example of a woman, as defined by the media. I am slender, somewhat curvy, and relatively stylish. However, I still have vague problems with my self-esteem in regards to my appearance. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;Just like every other American woman, I have had the images of perfection seared into my brain from a young age. Starting with Barbie (don’t get me started) and going through MTV and VH1 to current movie stars and celebrities, all icons are thin, with big boobs, perfect skin, perfectly tousled long hair, and endlessly glamorous wardrobes. No common woman can achieve that level of beauty without millions of dollars and a full-time hair and makeup staff. Yet, we all still feel the need to look the part.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all can easily point out our individual flaws. Mine happen to be my skin and my hair. I have the antithesis of flawless skin, and my hair is controllable, as long as you don’t ask very much of it. If you ask too much, it tends to rebel with extreme fits of poofiness (yes, there is such a thing as too much volume) and wild rants of random curl. I traverse frequently between long and short lengths, but have resigned myself to the fact that it will never be what I want, and I settle for the best I can get, which is never the look I want. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;I despise myself for getting hung up on how I look, but that doesn't stop me. I know that value as a woman is not tied solely to my appearance, but it’s hard to escape the chant in the back of my mind that says, “You’re not as pretty as she is.” I spend plenty of time and money trying to achieve a glimmer of that perfect ideal, yet still feel that niggling self doubt creep in when I see another woman walk into the room who looks really good. I am kind of insecure in my marriage, and always wonder if my husband thinks she’s better looking than me, and if he would ever leave me, and if so, what would this other woman look like?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It bothers me that I don’t feel “pretty enough.” I don’t know exactly how to solve this issue for myself, but I’m working on it. I’m not sure if my husband is aware of my insecurity, but he’s helping, even if it is unconsciously. Last night he referred to me as “my beautiful wife” and I had to stop myself from pointing out that while the wife part is true, the beautiful part isn’t. I just have to remind myself that by know he probably recognizes beautiful by this point in his life, and to be thankful that he puts me in that category. Even as it makes me feel awkward, it makes me feel good, too. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;Why do we put ourselves through this agony? It starts early, with little girls running up to daddy in a pretty new dress and saying, "Aren't I pretty, Daddy?" It rages in the early teen, when we are struggling with a blossoming sexuality at the same time as pimple-producing hormones. We start thinking about boys. All the time. And what we have to do to impress them. This need to impress the opposite sex soon becomes an obsession. It continues into early adulthood, as we start thinking about boys in a more serious way. Our society pushes us to find our "soul mate" and live "happily ever after" so we do our best to attract the best potential mates. As we age, the need to be externally beautiful might fade somewhat, but it never completely dies. We still have the desire to be desired, the need to impress, wrinkles and all. It's all about the men. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;I struggle to remember that I don't have to sacrifice my own personality in order to reflect current beauty trends, or to be accepted. I am trying to remember to work with what I have, and feel good about myself regardless of how I fit the "beauty mold." I say: Stand with me, girls, and embrace your uniqueness. Find the little things that make you feel pretty and exploit them. It might be a certain haircolor, a special outfit, or an attitude. Remember that celebrities are not the norm, and that it’s not just what is on the outside that defines your worth, so cultivate that inner beauty, too. In the long run, that is what will matter. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;And you men out there…don't fall victim to the cultural perception of beauty. Find the beauty that is unique to every woman. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;"Those who look for beauty, find it." (~unknown)&lt;/span&gt; They might not admit it, but every woman feels that pressure to measure up. Every woman should have someone in their life to remind them of the fact that they are attractive, even if it makes them uncomfortable, because we are. Don't forget to tell your wives, your mothers, your sisters, and especially your daughters just how beautiful they are outside and in – every day, all the time. You are the ones who have the power to make them believe it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115379306005267931?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115379306005267931/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115379306005267931' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115379306005267931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115379306005267931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/09/what-is-beautiful.html' title='What is Beautiful?'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115496327580943766</id><published>2006-09-05T16:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-05T23:34:28.393-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Do As I Do</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Recently I received in my inbox a devotional from &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://proverbs31.gospelcom.net"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Proverbs 31&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt; about &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://proverbs31.gospelcom.net/devotions/devAug0706.pdf"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Influence and Adversity&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;. It made me think of what kind of influence I am on those around me. It opened my eyes to the fact that I am not always a good influence, and made me want to change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A while ago, my 14 year-old sister stayed overnight. Having her over reminded me how much of an influence I am on her. I try really hard to be the best influence I can be, because she looks up to me, and am disappointed that I tend to fall short of my ideal. She is not a bad kid. She is smart and mature, but I want her to grow up to be the best person she can be, and it wouldn't hurt if I try to be the best person I can be, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to model the behaviors that I hope she would adopt. That weekend, I feel that I fell short in many areas. I do not want her to model the person I was that weekend. I was rude, argumentative, impatient, and short-tempered. I complained and whined. I didn’t dress conservatively. I did not have a heart of forgiveness or gratitude. I did do &lt;em&gt;some&lt;/em&gt; good things. I wasn’t a completely rotten person all weekend, but rotten enough to be ashamed, and ashamed enough to want to do something about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever thought about how many people you influence in a day? Your husband, kids, family members, friends, coworkers, even strangers on the street. We influence them by what we say, how we dress, how we treat the people around us, what we watch and read and listen to, who we associate with, how we act, and many other ways. I don't want to continue to be a bad influence. I am working on determining what kind of person I want to be, as well as actually becoming that person. Maybe a list would help. I am the kind of person that needs a list. If I have a list that reminds me, maybe I’ll have a better chance at making the change. My &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/08/proverbs-challenge.html"&gt;Proverbs Challenge&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;is really helping me in this struggle. It helps be figure out what kind of a person God expects us to be. What I have realized most is that I want to be a "&lt;em&gt;do as I do&lt;/em&gt;" not a "&lt;em&gt;do as I say, not as I do&lt;/em&gt;." That is where I'm trying to start.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115496327580943766?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115496327580943766/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115496327580943766' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115496327580943766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115496327580943766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/09/do-as-i-do.html' title='Do As I Do'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115749335231897701</id><published>2006-09-05T16:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-05T16:55:54.696-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/mmbanner1.4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/mmbanner1.3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Which holidays (if any) do you consider more as a day off from work, than anything else?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;Memorial Day, Labor Day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Which 3 holidays are most celebrated in your family?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Do you have an organized filing system at home?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;I do, however we are currently remodeling our office, so it's not so organized at the moment. Unless you consider mostly tidy piles an organized filing system.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Do you clip coupons for groceries? If so, do you remember to use them? If not, why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;No, I stopped trying to clip coupons long ago. I never remember to use them because I don't shop very regularily. I also don't find coupons very often for the things I need when I actually need them. The only ones I use are the ones that the particular store might offer. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. How many magazines do you subscribe to?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;Between me and my husband...four.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Do you play any computer games on a regular basis? If so, which is your favorite, and why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;I don't play it regularily (try rarely) but I love the Myst games, and also old MS Dos games, like the Hugo Trilogy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Have you watched any movies worth recommending, lately?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;I don't watch as many movies in the summer as in the winter. Too many outside things to do in the summer! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://mmadness.blogspot.com"&gt;Monday Madness&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115749335231897701?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115749335231897701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115749335231897701' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115749335231897701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115749335231897701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/09/1.html' title=''/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115711956410742483</id><published>2006-09-01T09:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-06T23:10:23.346-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Bloomers</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/small99.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/200/small99.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/small125.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/200/small125.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/small73.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/200/small73.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/small85.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/200/small85.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/small14.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/200/small14.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;Here is a sampling of the fun things blooming in my garden. Now that the weather has finally cooled, and we're getting a little rain, they're taking off! It's so nice to go out and be greeted by their smiling, cheery faces.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115711956410742483?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115711956410742483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115711956410742483' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115711956410742483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115711956410742483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/09/bloomers.html' title='Bloomers'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115703722379969663</id><published>2006-08-31T10:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-01T13:45:51.166-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thursday Thirteen # 4</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://intricateart.com/blog/thursdaythirteen300.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#00cccc;"&gt;Thirteen things I'd like to do someday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;1. Get a new car. (See last week's TT)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;2. Go on a Mediterranean cruise.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;3. Participate in the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://intent.squarespace.com/journal/2006/8/20/30-days-of-nothing.html"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;30 Days of Nothing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;4. See the sunset in Tibet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;5. Learn to drive a 6-horse hitch.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;6. Have a baby.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;7. Get a pair of leopard tortoises.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;8. Go on a random, unplanned roadtrip with my girlfriends.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;9. Get my Master's Degree in Equine Assisted Psychotherapy. (and use it!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;10. Own a farm.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;11. Get a Brazilian bikini wax.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;12. Find out for myself how fast a Corvette Z06 really goes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;13. Learn to play the piano.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://thursdaythirteen.com"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://technorati.com/tag/thursday+thirteen" rel="tag"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;View More Thursday Thirteen Participants&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115703722379969663?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115703722379969663/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115703722379969663' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115703722379969663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115703722379969663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/08/thursday-thirteen-4.html' title='Thursday Thirteen # 4'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115686686584372861</id><published>2006-08-29T09:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-29T10:54:27.276-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Amaranth, the Writer</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;When I was younger I used to write stories. Stories about magical unicorns and fairy tale lands gave way to stories about horses and friendships and young love. In my late teens, I made serious headway into several romance-style stories, only to abandon them as I got bored with them. I also developed a science fiction world, and several story lines, but never got around to writing about them. I never kept any of my stories. I wish now that I had, but at the time, I thought they were stupid and I would tear them up or toss them in the fire. (This was before the delete key was a part of my life!) I grew up with books as my best friends, and writing became a natural extension of that friendship. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Last night something inspired me to write again. I think it was a combination of missing my husband, boredom, sugar, and too many romance novels. In any event, I composed 6 pages steamy enough to rival any published romance novel. It's a work in progress, but it's fun! Maybe I'll add some more story (rather than just details) and make it into a short story or novella instead of just an excerpt. Only time will tell if I get bored and chuck this one, too. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;All that writing, though, made me start to think about the pull of romance fiction. Why do women read that stuff? Author Diana Duncan writes &lt;a href="http://dianaduncan.blogspot.com/2005/03/why-i-write-romance.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt; about why she &lt;em&gt;writes&lt;/em&gt; romance, and I think she hits the nail on the head. I guess for me, it's a way to live vicariously through the heroines. To forget about the struggles of the day and immerse myself in a world where the good guy always wins, and everyone lives happily ever after. It's fun to experience the heat in a glance, or the thrill of a first kiss. The heros are always perfect, every woman's dream come true. To imagine myself lost in the arms of the hero...is that cheating?! Romance novels taught me what I wanted in a husband, just as a broken childhood taught me what I didn't want. I was fortunate to find a wonderful man worthy of hero status. Of course, he doesn't completely understand the pull of the books, but he does read the sexy scenes now and then, just to make sure he isn't forgetting anything! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;In writing, I get to experience the thrill first hand. Well...sort of! I'm enjoying exploring my characters, and searching for the perfect words. Just what I need - another hobby!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115686686584372861?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115686686584372861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115686686584372861' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115686686584372861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115686686584372861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/08/amaranth-writer.html' title='Amaranth, the Writer'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115678885789295803</id><published>2006-08-28T12:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-28T13:15:48.776-05:00</updated><title type='text'>School Shopping 2006</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;I like doing things with my 14 year old sister. I am known as the fun big sister. Occasionally, our mother is lovingly referred to as the crabby old mom. She gets this title partially because she hates to shop for clothes, and my sister is a clothes horse. Mom tends to lose her patience by the 2nd store. I do understand Mom's hatred of shopping with my sister because my sister's size makes it especially hard. She's about 5'3" but only weighs 88 pounds. She is too tall for kids clothes, and too skinny for juniors, unless they come in a 00 or XS. Add that to the fact that she can only wear the trendiest clothes, and you have a problem finding things that she will wear and that will fit. However, I like to shop, even with the little sis, so I gladly take on the challenge. (Besides, it helps me retain my place as the favorite sister.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Last Saturday, I took her shopping for school clothes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;We got up early and drove an hour south of my house to a ritzy strip mall. It had all the stores she wanted to go to, and it was very nice. Lots of flowers, fancy sidewalks, a nice garden area to sit and sort through your many, many, many bags. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;We were there for over 6 hours. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;She spent $400. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;She'd have spent more, but that's all she could get out of her mom and dad and sister (that'd be me.) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;I can't believe how expensive "cool" clothes are. I had a really hard time helping her pick stuff out, because I would never spend $24.99 for a t-shirt. I'm a bargain shopper to the end. I did buy a skirt, two tops, some earrings, and a book. And two Christmas presents for my mom. I spent just over $50. For all of that. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;The things to wear this year are long tunic-style tops, stripes, leggings under short skirts, and pumps. Hello? Can we scream 80's any louder? It was kind of scary in a way. Do they still make Aqua Net hairspray? I do have to admit, though, it's a nice change from the skimpy revelaing styles we saw a couple years ago. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Most of the things she got were tank tops and t-shirts. I don't know how she is going to stay warm in the winter, but I would imagine that "warm" isn't "cool." By the end of the day, we were both exhausted, but she had clothes and we had fun. And I'm still the fun big sister.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115678885789295803?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115678885789295803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115678885789295803' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115678885789295803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115678885789295803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/08/school-shopping-2006.html' title='School Shopping 2006'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115677768024303422</id><published>2006-08-28T09:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-28T10:08:00.366-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/mmbanner1.3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/mmbanner1.2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Do you do dishes by hand or do you use a dishwasher?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;I do pots and pans by hand, otherwise, everything goes in the dishwasher. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. How many people have your cell phone number?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;I don't have a cell phone!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Do you shower in the morning or at night?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;I like to shower in the morning because of my hair, but I often shower at night, becuase I come home from working with the horses all icky. And becuase my husband has to shower before he goes to bed or he can't sleep, and I often join him!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Do you ever have a song 'stuck' in your head?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;Every morning I wake up with a song in my head.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Do you pay your bills when they arrive, or do you wait until closer to the due date to pay them?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;Most of our regular bills are paid electronically. Those that aren't get paid when they arrive.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Are you obsessive about anything in particular?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;Organization, safety around horses, punctuation, etc.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. What one thing would you say you have a zero tolerance for?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;People who have issues with others because of race, gender, sexual orientation, religion, age, disability, etc. Especially those that enjoy advertising their disfavor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#00cccc;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://mmadness.blogspot.com/"&gt;Monday Madness&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115677768024303422?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115677768024303422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115677768024303422' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115677768024303422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115677768024303422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/08/1_28.html' title=''/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115647412130131034</id><published>2006-08-24T21:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-26T17:58:18.080-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thursday Thirteen # 3</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://intricateart.com/blog/thursdaythirteen300.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Thirteen Reasons Why I Think I Need a New Car&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;1. Mine has 217,310 miles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. It is 12 years old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. The driver's side window doesn't roll down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. The air conditioner is temperamental.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. The clutch pedal disengages every now and then, rendering the vehicle useless until you crawl underneath the steering wheel to fix it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. It HAS a clutch pedal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. It's only a 2-door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. I want keyless entry and a CD player.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. The switch for the lights shorts out now and then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Sometimes it gets the hiccups if it rains.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. The door squeaks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. It's dirty and out of gas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. I want a new one!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#339999;"&gt;On the plus side... it runs fine, gets me where I need to go, gets 35 mpg, and I'd really like to see it roll 222,222.2 miles! Besides, I paid $2500 for it and have since put on 116,000 miles with no real problems, so I guess I can't complain too much!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://thursdaythirteen.com"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://technorati.com/tag/thursday+thirteen" rel="tag"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;View More Thursday Thirteen Participants&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115647412130131034?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115647412130131034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115647412130131034' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115647412130131034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115647412130131034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/08/thursday-thirteen-3.html' title='Thursday Thirteen # 3'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115634238904352645</id><published>2006-08-23T08:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-01T10:27:06.083-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Injection Rodeo</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;My husband and I are the proud "parents" of two Percheron mares, Jill and Dolly. Jill is 18 years old and 1700 pounds. Dolly is 25-ish and 1900 pounds. Both of them are black with a small star on their forehead. (For the non-horse people, Percherons are draft horses. A "normal" horse that you would see more often probably weighs 900-1200 pounds. So ours are considerably bigger.) We brought them home on our first anniversary, last September and we affectionately refer to them as "the girls." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;They are the perfect team for us, becuase they have been around the block and know what they're doing, and they are very patient about teaching us. I have had light (normal) horses my entire life, but had never driven, and my husband was a novice when we got them, so it's been an interesting experience learning how to drive them. They live at my mom's house on 5 acres, (since we live in town) where they enjoy a semi-retired lifestyle and the numerous apple trees. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;We ride them and drive them with a cart or a wagon, and my husband pulls things around with them like tires, round bales, trees, farm equipment, and whatever else he can hook onto. They are great fun for hayrides, and trail rides, and we like that we have a reason to be outside and &lt;em&gt;doing&lt;/em&gt; something. They have become a prominent fixture in our lives, and when they are no longer with us, or are fully retired, we will find a new team.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This summer, Jill has some kind of respiratory thing going on. We aren't quite sure what it is, but it hasn't gone away on it's own, so I called the vet. She suggested starting with a course of penicillin. So, for five to seven days, I have to give her two shots of penicillin. Not a problem. Except that Jill tends to get irritated when you bother her. Yesterday I learned that shots bother her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine a horse that weighs almost a ton getting pissed off about having shots. She bucks when she feels the needle, and then twists around and gets all crabby because the penicillin burns as it goes in. Fortunately, she's not real motivated to put a &lt;em&gt;whole&lt;/em&gt; lot of effort into her maneuvers, but it's still enough to make life difficult. So I have emails and messages out to all my horse friends, on the off chance that someone might have some suggestions that will make it less of a rodeo. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Until then...yee-haw!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/DPP_48.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/DPP_21.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/DPP_999.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Here are some pictures of Jill. She's real nice if you aren't poking her!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115634238904352645?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115634238904352645/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115634238904352645' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115634238904352645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115634238904352645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/08/injection-rodeo.html' title='Injection Rodeo'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115622086090612362</id><published>2006-08-21T23:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-21T23:33:46.233-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ephesians 4:29</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;This weekend I was at a baby shower for my sister-in-law. I would rather not have gone, as I am &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;not a fan of showers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;, but I feel kind of guilty for never attending any of them, so I'm trying harder, atleast with the immediate family. I did survive, but I wasn't able to get there in time for the fun shower games (bummer!) and that helped make it seem not so bad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;What struck me that day is that my in-laws seem to have a bad influence on me. I realized that whenever I spend time around them, I seem to complain about my husband. They tend to get into these husband-bashing contests and I get sucked right into it. Before I realize it, I'm joining right in and telling about all my husband's bad habits and sharing stories about the things he does that irritate me. It happens every time I am with them, and every time I come away completely ashamed and disgusted with myself for participating. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;I already have problems "fitting in" with the women in his family, and they don't all think very highly of me. Part of the problem is that they don't understand or accept that I'm not really the domestic housewife type like that they are used to. Consequently, I don't have a whole lot in common with any of them, which can make things awkward. However, I don't want to feel that I have to disrespect my husband just to fit in. I want to be the best wife I can be to my husband. They come across as being bitter, resentful, degrading, critical, and bitchy. My husband deserves better than that from me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;I try to associate with people I admire and whose actions and values I want to emulate. I do my best to avoid people with bad habits and bad attitudes that tend to rub off on me, but when it's family what do you do? I guess all I can do is try to be a good example, and pray. For me and for them. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen. &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Eph 4:29&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115622086090612362?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115622086090612362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115622086090612362' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115622086090612362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115622086090612362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/08/ephesians-429.html' title='Ephesians 4:29'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115621517829839026</id><published>2006-08-21T21:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-23T00:55:21.933-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/mmbanner1.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/mmbanner1.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Would you shave your head for any amount of money? If yes, how much?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;Sure, why not? It's just hair...it'll grow back! I think it would be fun. I would do it for $5,000 for charity.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. What "whacky" thing might you do for a large sum of money?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;Hmmm, I'm not sure. Depends on the circumstances I guess. I'm usually up for just about anything, though. Especially for a good cause.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. What do you think is a "large sum of money?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;$500,000 is a large sum of money in most cases. Again, depends on the circumstances. "It's all relative."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Do you watch "reality" tv shows?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;I don't watch much TV, and I'm not really a fan of reality TV. I only get three stations, so I've never even heard of most shows!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. If so, which do you watch and in what order do you prefer them? If not, are there any you may consider watching?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;If I come across Dancing With the Stars, or American Idol while channel surfing, I might stop to watch.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Which reality show have you thought about participating in? Why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;I'd love to do Dancing With the Stars, but I'm not a professional dancer, or a celebrity. Bummer!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Share one thing you would like to do in life but have not yet done..... think about why you haven't done it and share if you wish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;I'd like to do SOOO much, it's hard to choose just one thing. One of the things in the front of my mind lately is finishing my Bachelor's Degree. I haven't done it yet because I feel guilty not working full time, and I'm still not completely sure what I would want to go for. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://mmadness.blogspot.com/"&gt;Monday Madness&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115621517829839026?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115621517829839026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115621517829839026' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115621517829839026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115621517829839026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/08/1_21.html' title=''/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115585138551656608</id><published>2006-08-17T16:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-17T16:52:31.546-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Living the Word</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Practice what you preach. Thanks, &lt;a href="http://beckyworks.wordpress.com/"&gt;Becky&lt;/a&gt;, for the reminder.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;His name is Bill. He has wild hair, wears a T-shirt with holes in it, jeans, and no shoes. This is literally his wardrobe for his entire four years of college.&lt;br /&gt;He is brilliant. Kind of profound and very, very bright. He becomes a Christian while attending college.&lt;br /&gt;Across the street from the campus is a well-dressed, very conservative church. They want to develop a ministry to the students but are not sure how to go about it.&lt;br /&gt;One day Bill decides to go there. He walks in with no shoes, jeans, his T-shirt, and wild hair. The service has already started and so Bill starts down the aisle looking for a seat.&lt;br /&gt;The church is completely packed and he can’t find a seat. By now, people are really looking a bit uncomfortable, but no one says anything.&lt;br /&gt;Bill gets closer and closer and closer to the pulpit, and when he realizes there are no seats, he just squats down right on the carpet.&lt;br /&gt;By now the people are really uptight, and the tension in the air is thick.&lt;br /&gt;About this time, the minister realizes that from way at the back of the church, a deacon is slowly making his way toward Bill.&lt;br /&gt;Now the deacon is in his eighties, has silver-gray hair, and a three-piece suit. A godly man, very elegant, very dignified, very courtly. He walks with a cane and, as he starts walking toward this boy, everyone is saying to themselves that you can’t blame him for what he’s going to do. How can you expect a man of his age and of his background to understand some college kid on the floor?&lt;br /&gt;It takes a long time for the man to reach the boy.&lt;br /&gt;The church is utterly silent except for the clicking of the man’s cane. All eyes are focused on him. You can’t even hear anyone breathing. The minister can’t even preach the sermon until the deacon does what he has to do.&lt;br /&gt;And now they see this elderly man drop his cane on the floor. With great difficulty, he lowers himself and sits down next to Bill and worships with him so he won’t be alone.&lt;br /&gt;Everyone chokes up with emotion.When the minister gains control, he says:&lt;br /&gt;"What I’m about to preach, you will never remember. What you have just seen, you will never forget."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Be careful how you live. You may be the only Bible some people will ever read!&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/30745991-115585138551656608?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115585138551656608/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115585138551656608' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115585138551656608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115585138551656608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/08/living-word.html' title='Living the Word'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115583130447397054</id><published>2006-08-17T09:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-17T11:19:16.496-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thursday Thirteen # 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://intricateart.com/blog/thursdaythirteen300.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Thirteen Pet Peeves&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;/center&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1. Unnecessary apostrophes.&lt;/strong&gt; The store where I rent movies has a sign that reads, "All tape's, disc's, and game's must be returned before more rental's will be issued." This is printed on a professional, engraved plastic sign. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2. Poor Cell Phone Etiquette.&lt;/strong&gt; There is a time and a place (and a volume) for answering and talking on your cell phone. While in line at a cash register, in a restaurant or movie theater, in heavy traffic, during business meetings, at church (including weddings and funerals), or in waiting rooms are not acceptable places to answer and talk on your cell phone. Also, cell phones work just like regular phones; there is no need to yell into them. If your wife is due to go into labor, or your son is at war, please excuse yourself and answer it. Otherwise, let the voice mail pick it up! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3. Improper merging techniques.&lt;/strong&gt; When merging onto a highway, please don't see that there is traffic and just STOP! That's not how it works. Please MERGE! There is a reason why there are no stop signs on on-ramps. Accidents don't just &lt;em&gt;happen&lt;/em&gt;, they are &lt;em&gt;caused&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4. Typos, spelling mistakes, and grammar errors. &lt;/strong&gt;Especially on public documents such as menus, corporate web sites or brochures, meeting handouts, catalogs, billboards, etc. Very unprofessional. It only takes a second to have someone else proofread your items befor ethey are printed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;5. Sunday only Christians.&lt;/strong&gt; I have little respect for people who attend church on Sunday morning, and once their obligation has been filled, they resume their normal lives. They are Christians in word, but not in action. Being a Christian changes nothing in their lives except for where they spend an hour on a Sunday morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creature; the old things passed away; behold, new things have come. 2 Cor 5:17&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But prove yourselves doers of the word, and not merely hearers who delude themselves. James 1:22&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;6. Shower parties.&lt;/strong&gt; I don't like baby shower and bridal showers where you go and eat and play silly games and have to bring gifts. I have heard of weddings where people are required to attend the engagement party, three separate bridal showers, the bachelorette party, the rehearsal party, the actual wedding, the gift opening party, and the post-honeymoon party. Good grief!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;7. People who think marriage=babies.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(One of the reasons for #6)&lt;/span&gt; When we got married (and every day since), &lt;em&gt;everyone&lt;/em&gt; had to ask, "So when are you going to have kids?" Then they would ask, "So when do you plan on quitting your job?" Is it really anyone else's business, anyway? Ok, people, just because we got married doesn't mean we are planning on having kids right away, or ever. It definately doesn't mean I am going to be a 1956 housewife and stay home and cook and clean. I am more than just a wife. I have a job. Get used to it! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(We have not announced our decision to attempt pregnancy. That would just open it up to a whole new set of irritating questions.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;8. Filth.&lt;/strong&gt; Filth is what happens when dirt and grime get out of control. I don't like it when people don't bother to clean, and just let the filth accumulate. This trend seems to be more prevalent among the lower-income. Just because you're poor doesn't mean you have to be filthy, too. My gramma (and my mama) always said, "Just because we don't live in a mansion, doesn't mean we have to live in a pig sty," and, "Elbow grease is free." I'm sure there are middle-class slobs out there, too, they just hide it better.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;9. 4 x 4's on RR Tracks. &lt;/strong&gt;I can't stand it when people who drive trucks, SUV's, and Hummers get up to the RR Tracks and go 3 mph, carefully inching their way across. Are they trying to somehow protect their vehicle from harm? Come on people, what do you think those vehicles are designed for? On second thought, maybe they're just trying not spill their coffee. it still bugs me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;10. Profanity.&lt;/strong&gt; I think that profanity is an expression of ignorance, and is completely unnecessary. I especially hate hearing it spoken every other word in public. (Or on overly loud cell phone converstaions! See #2.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;11. Unacceptable behavior in children and dogs. &lt;/strong&gt;I realize that parenting is tough. I don't believe that it is necessary to allow your children to be rude, inconsiderate, or unruly in public. I can't stand it when parents let their kids insult people, be disruptive, or be obnoxious without disciplining or reprimanding them. These are the kids who grow up to be the people in #2, #5, and #8. I have the same feelings about dogs. I don't want to come over for dinner and be greeted with your pooch's paws on my shirt. I do not want my crotch sniffed, or my hand drooled on. I don't want to have a dog's head on my lap during dinner. I definately don't want a dogs head on my plate during dinner. I want to be able to have a converstaion without having to shout over the barking. Don't get me wrong, I like dogs, just not the ones that are referred to as "my darling, sweet, wonderful babies."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;12. People who equate drinking with entertainment.&lt;/strong&gt; I don't drink. Therefore, I don't understand people whose hobby is drinking. I don't understand the excitement, the expense, or the purpose. You know the ones. They don't go to a gathering if there is not alcohol involved. They spend their weekends either in front of the cooler, or at the bar. If you saw them without a beer in their hand, you wouldn't recognize them. They come to work on Monday and brag about how "trashed" they got over the weeked. They have had accidents, arrests, and sex that they don't remember. They have been known to preceed acts of extreme stupidity with the phrase, "Hold my beer."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;13. Disorganization.&lt;/strong&gt; I don't know if this is a pet peeve so much as an example of compulsive behavior, but here goes. I can't handle disorganization. I don't like it when things are out of order. I don't like clutter. I don't like unmade beds, or unfolded towels. I can't stand having clothes and dishes not put away. I can't lateness. I hate not knowing where things are. I like to have a list, a plan, a place, and a purpose for everything. However, I don't always have a list, a plan, a place, and a purpose for everything, and that irritates me. I despise disorganization most in myself.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://thursdaythirteen.com"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://technorati.com/tag/thursday+thirteen" rel="tag"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;View More Thursday Thirteen Participants&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115583130447397054?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115583130447397054/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115583130447397054' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115583130447397054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115583130447397054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/08/thursday-thirteen-2.html' title='Thursday Thirteen # 2'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115570190357220734</id><published>2006-08-15T21:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-01T12:51:26.580-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Think of Those Smiles</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/wheelchair.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/wheelchair.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;On Tuesdays I volunteer with a therapeutic horseback riding program. We offer horseback riding for children and adults with disabilities, and are affiliated with the North American Riding for the Handicapped Association &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.narha.org"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;NARHA&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt; I have been involved with the program for 6 years, and I love it. Many of our riders have moderate to severe physical disabilities, and many have cognitive (mental) disabilities. Tonight I was thinking about how fortunate and blessed I am, and how easy it is to take those blessings for granted. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;As I worked with my "kiddos" tonight, I thought about how lucky I am to be able to walk. In my first class, I have a 13 year old boy that can walk, but he has to hold your arm, and only goes about 4 inches with every step. It takes us &lt;em&gt;forever&lt;/em&gt; to get anywhere. Yet, he is exstatic, because a year ago, he could only stand, and a year before that he was completely confined to a wheelchair. So 4 inches at a time is AWSOME to him, and he smiles.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Or, how about the riders in the wheelchairs. They spend their whole day looking up at the world above them, waiting for a push, or grumbling at the fact that there are places that they can't go. Put them on a horse, and see them look &lt;em&gt;down&lt;/em&gt; at the world for the first time. Let them realize that they can use this horse's legs to go &lt;em&gt;wherever they want&lt;/em&gt;. That face-cracking smile is the best thing in the world. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;I thought about how lucky I am to be able to communicate. We have one 11 year old boy that is blind and moderately retarded, as well as non-verbal. He cannot see, and cannot understand, and cannot speak. When he came to us, he stubbornly refused to try to communicate, and his therapists were at the end of their hope. He has been riding with the program for 3 years and in that time, he has developed sounds to make his horse go and stop, and can now distinguish his horse from the others by touching it's face. It might sound small, but for a kid that the world had given up on, it's big. Almost as big as his smile.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;The autistic riders are my biggest challenge and biggest joy. They live in a world we don't understand. They don't know how to function in ours. We keep trying to build those bridges between the two, only to watch them crumble again and again into the tide. Yet, in the arena, there are moments where we are all on that bridge, and it's the horse that brought us there. Parents of autistic children are prone to crying during breakthrough sessions, because it's often the first time they have seen their child function in our world, rather than retreating back into their own. Often the first time they have seen a real smile.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;I thought about how lucky I am to have friends and family that love me. One of our adult riders lives in a group home for mentally disabled women. She is not close to her family, and has few friends. Her staff describes her as quiet, shy, and depressed. When she is with the horses, she is lively, opinionated, and smiling. The horses are her best friends. When we asked why she likes the horses so much, she replied, "Because they are always glad to see me." How wonderful it must be to finally have someone who is happy to see you. To find a friend that accepts you for who you are, disability and all. Even if that friend has four legs and brown spots. She likes them because, "They make me smile."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;One little girl comes from a family of ultra-competitive sports fanatics. She has a spinal condition that prevents her from running or jumping. Because of this, she had always felt out of place, like "I was supposed to belong to a different family." I'll never forget the pride and glow on her father's face as she came home from her first competition. That ribbon hangs proudly among the medals and trophies of her siblings, and she finally feels like part of the family. And that makes her smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These kiddos come to their class every week and smile. They are always happy to be there. They never complain. They just come and they smile. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;On ninety degree days when I don't feel like going and trudging through the sand for three hours with a sweaty horse, I think of those smiles. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;When I feel like whining about all of my problems, and I feel like I just can't take any more, I think of those smiles. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;When I feel like the whole world is against me, and no one understands, I think of those smiles. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;When I feel like I don't have any blessings to count, I think of those smiles.&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/smiles.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/smiles.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115570190357220734?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115570190357220734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115570190357220734' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115570190357220734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115570190357220734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/08/i-think-of-those-smiles.html' title='I Think of Those Smiles'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115560976657181906</id><published>2006-08-14T20:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-14T21:42:46.680-05:00</updated><title type='text'>New Career?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;This past Sunday I helped a friend run the face painting booth at her church's summer bazaar. I had a blast! It was great fun. We ran a pretty steady business for about 4 hours, and the cost was one $.25 ticket per design. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;There was an idea board that someone had painted and the kids could choose from that or come up with their own designs. For the most part, we just painted simple things: rainbows, butterflies, bumble bees, flowers, hearts, stars, crosses, etc. Of course, my first customer chose a blooming rose, one of the hardest things on the board. I was pleasantly surprised that it was really easy as long as I had the picture to go by. In addition to the pictures on the board, I offered horses and unicorns, which were a huge hit. I had one girl with a unicorn on one cheek, a horse on the other, and a castle on her arm. Ok, it was supposed to be a lighthouse, but the castle went better with the unicorn. Fortunately, she agreed! My friend ended up doing a Garfield, a lion, and a dancing ladybug. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;It was so much fun that I am going to pitch the idea to my own church for &lt;em&gt;our&lt;/em&gt; summer festival next year. I looked online at ideas and was amazed at what some people can do with paint! I thought, "I could do that!" Maybe I could offer my services at local events...birthdays, company picnics, vacation bible school, craft fairs, festivals...the possibilities are endless. Who knows if it will ever happen - it's just like me to get carried away with an idea - but it sure is fun to imagine! I &lt;em&gt;am&lt;/em&gt; looking for a new job... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115560976657181906?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115560976657181906/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115560976657181906' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115560976657181906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115560976657181906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/08/new-career.html' title='New Career?'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115558785281575913</id><published>2006-08-14T14:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-14T15:37:32.900-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/mmbanner1.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/mmbanner1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;1. How many "people" pictures do you have displayed in your house?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;A lot. One side of my fridge is devoted to family pics, and gets updated as new ones come in. My piano has our wedding pics on top in fancy crystal frames. One side table has current school pics of our godchildren and my sister. Another houses my favorite pics of my husband and I, and our horses. There is a large pic of us in the church on our wedding day in our bedroom. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;There are old (circa 1900) pics on the mantle. I tend to tape up pics of friends, etc. in my office at home, and there are pics of my husband and I and pics of our horses in my office at work. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. How many times a month/year do you rearrange your furniture?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;I would love to rearrange, but our house only allows for furniture to really be in one place, so I rearrange accessories instead...about once every 2-3 months, or as the seasons change. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Do you check your email every day? If so, how many times a day?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;Usually hourly while at work, and atleast once a night at home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. How often do you generally look at a clock/watch on any given day?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;Often while at work. Maybe every half-hour.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. How do you handle telemarketer phone calls?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;I hang up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://mmadness.blogspot.com/"&gt;Monday Madness&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115558785281575913?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115558785281575913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115558785281575913' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115558785281575913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115558785281575913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/08/1.html' title=''/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115533211129044531</id><published>2006-08-11T16:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-13T19:43:26.336-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Timing is Everything</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;Yesterday I bought a tank full of gas at $3.09. I also bought a car wash. While I was in the car wash, the gas went down to $3.07. Today it was $2.98. Is the world trying to tell me something, or do I just have bad timing?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115533211129044531?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115533211129044531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115533211129044531' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115533211129044531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115533211129044531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/08/timing-is-everything.html' title='Timing is Everything'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115523078743621740</id><published>2006-08-10T10:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-17T11:20:12.443-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thursday Thirteen # 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://intricateart.com/blog/thursdaythirteen300.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Thirteen Words That Describe Me&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;1. Catholic&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;2. Opinionated&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;3. Brunette&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;4. Wife&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;5. Woman&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;6. Difficult&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;7. Stylish&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;8. Organized&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;9. Adventurous&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;10. Romantic&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;11. Tempermental&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;12. Small&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;13. Sensitive&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://thursdaythirteen.com"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://technorati.com/tag/thursday+thirteen" rel="tag"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;View More Thursday Thirteen Participants&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115523078743621740?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115523078743621740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115523078743621740' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115523078743621740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115523078743621740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/08/thursday-thirteen-1.html' title='Thursday Thirteen # 1'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115518020345639983</id><published>2006-08-09T21:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-09T22:24:24.980-05:00</updated><title type='text'>One of the Guys</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Today I got to work, gathered up my things, locked the car door, got out, shut the door, and groaned. Yup. There were my keys dangling from the ignition. Bummer. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;So I went in and put my things away and went down to our warehouse for a screwdriver and a coat hanger. Now, most of the warehouse guys know that I am realatively handy for someone of my gender. I continue to surprise them by doing things like hanging my own coat hook in my office, taking the arms off my desk chair, and attatching the keyboard slidey thing to my desk &lt;em&gt;all by myself&lt;/em&gt;. I don't understand why they are surprised, but they are. In the word I grew up in - and in the world I live in now come to think of it - if you don't do it yourself you don't get it done. So I fetched my screwdriver and coat hanger and proceeded to unlock my car in about 90 seconds. Fortunately for me, I locked my keys in my car one day at school and was able to watch one of the auto instructors open it in a similar fashion, so I knew what I was doing. However, I actually had two snickering guys come out to watch me do this, obviously thinking they were going to have to "show me how it's done." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;What's up with that? Now, I'm not overly feminist, but I do believe that women are potentially just as capable at mechanical jobs as men are. I was not allowed to drive until I knew how to change a tire, change the oil, and drive a stick. I also know how to change alternators and brakes, but that's because I drove a junker! I worked on a very large horse farm for many years, so I got real good at carrying 70 pound hay bales and 50 pound sacks of grain. I can back up a trailer and string a fence. I have assisted in the castration of cows, horses, dogs, and cats and have dealt with any number of veterinary emergencies. I can wield a hammer or saw, and the only drill we own belongs to me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Don't get me wrong, I am a girly-girl. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(Don't tell my husband, but I bought the &lt;em&gt;cutest&lt;/em&gt; pair of shoes today to go with the two skirts I found on sale!)&lt;/span&gt; I like to wear dresses and high heels and makeup. It takes me atleast 30 minutes to get ready to go to the grocery store. I coo over babies and puppies. I own pink things. I even own pink things with&lt;em&gt; ruffles&lt;/em&gt;. I get PMS. I like chick-flicks, and romance novels. I sometimes cry for no good reason. I tend to gossip and love to shop. All the things that you'd associate with a girly-girl. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;I also expect to be treated like a lady. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(FYI men - chivalry and romance is not dead!)&lt;/span&gt; I like to have the door opened for me, and I expect to go first. I like to have an arm to hold onto when I'm in heels, and appreciate it when men refrain from all the many manly habits such as scratching, spitting, swearing, etc. in my presence. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;I am, however, perfectly capable of doing pretty much anything, and you can bet that if I need the help of a man, I'm going to be right there helping, too. Thankfully, it only took my husband about 3 days to get used to that. Some men never do. I just don't get it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115518020345639983?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115518020345639983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115518020345639983' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115518020345639983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115518020345639983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/08/one-of-guys.html' title='One of the Guys'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115501081728981900</id><published>2006-08-07T22:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-09T16:53:32.656-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Proverbs Challenge</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I'd like to pass along a challenge. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I recently came across an &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.crosswalk.com/faith/ministry_articles/1149563.html"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;article&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt; that challenges you to read a chapter of Proverbs every day for 12 months. (Proverbs has 31 chapters.) The idea is that the book of Proverbs contains the wisdom that we need to live our lives in a way that pleases God. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I decided to accept the challenge, and on August 1, I began reading. I am pleased to announce that I have made it a week without missing a day. I normally don't have much in the way of commitment when it comes to things like this. I read my verses once over breakfast, and sometimes again in the evening. It makes me feel different just knowing that I am spending that time in the Word. I feel closer to God, and more connected with myself. I feel more centered, and more at home in the Word. Starting my day with the Bible helps me to remember to pray throughout the day, and gives me a positive beginning to the morning. I used to read a book or magazine at breakfast, but I am really enjoying the switch. As the chapters of Proverbs are short, I find myself randomly perusing the Bible, and a couple times have come to a situation in the day that reminded me of something I read. It makes me wonder why I never bothered to make time for the Bible before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For some reason I never made the time or had the follow-through to read the Bible and pray on a daily basis. Even when involved in Bible studies, I would read all my lessons and do all the homework the hour before my class, rather than spreading it out over the whole week as was recommended. During RCIA, I would come up with a plan to read and pray, only to never actually implement the plan. Mass was a take it or leave it event. I wasn't too disappointed when I missed it, and didn't seem to get much out of it when I did go. I became confirmed basically because my husband (then boyfriend) was Catholic. I wanted to be able to be more a "part of the family," and also because I was pretty confident that he would not marry a non-Catholic, and I was fishing for an engagement ring. Little did I know I still had 4 more years to wait!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had lots of excuses to be a lukewarm christian. The most popular one was that I was too busy. School, work, volunteering, hobbies, housework, family, friends - all were better things to do than to spend time with God. What was I thinking? Why wouldn't I want to spend time with the one who loved me enough to die for me? What could be more important? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Also up there in the list of excuses was: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Impatience-I want to know it all &lt;em&gt;now &lt;/em&gt;and didn't want to take the time to learn. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Misunderstanding-not knowing how best to read the Bible and losing confidence when it wasn't making sense or was hard to understand. I also didn't understand all the elements of the Mass.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Lack of Example-I don't know many other Catholics who make it a point to read and pray daily, and not a lot that &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; live their faith very strongly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Lack of Encouragement-My family (esp. the non-christians) didn't understand my desire to spend time with God. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;It's Too Hard-I was too selfish to put any effort into it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I think that the change in my attitude came when I started attending a non-denominational church with a friend from work. She is the kind of person that I want to be. The more I got to know her, the more I realized that it was her faith that I admired. Her faith is what shapes her life. So I asked abour her church, and she invited me to attend. I went by myself the first time, on a Saturday night in the fall of 2004. Their music is very non-traditional, and has a distinct christian pop flavor. It was the music that touched me that first night. As the music and the message spoke to my soul, the tears came. I continued to attend for several months. My husband, a cradle Catholic, was unable to let go of his strict religious upbringing enough to enjoy the services, so I often went alone. That church introduced me to the Bible and instilled in me a thirst for God's word, and a hunger for His love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I am a 2000 RCIA graduate, and a confirmed Catholic, and I wanted to enjoy worship with my husband, I went back to attending the Catholic church that we belong to. To my surprise, I really enjoyed the Mass. I've been attending with a joyful heart ever since. I take comfort in the traditions of the Catholic faith, and it suits me. I will never forget my first confession as a new believer. It will always be one of the most powerful and defining moments of my life. I am still learning about all the details, traditions, and history of the Catholic faith, but I am enjoying the journey. I have become more involved in my church, and have made many new friends. I'm happy to be able to walk in and feel like I belong. Rather than just being a face in the pew, I am part of the family. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Since starting my study of Proverbs, I have found myself wanting to be a better person. I want to live my faith, not just profess it. I want to have a heart like Jesus. The wisdom contained in the pages of Proverbs is already changing my life, and I'm only on chapter 8. I can't wait to see the change after I've read all 31 chapters 12 times. &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/30745991-115501081728981900?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115501081728981900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115501081728981900' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115501081728981900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115501081728981900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/08/proverbs-challenge.html' title='Proverbs Challenge'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115455135439395917</id><published>2006-08-02T14:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-03T11:10:08.866-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Love Flowers, Hate Rabbits</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; graduated from &lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;tech&lt;/span&gt; school this spring, and I have since replaced studying with gardening. I planted perennials in a 6' x 10' garden by my mailbox, and also put some in around the lovely green electric boxes on my property line. I spent a couple weeks planning and purchasing plants and preparing the ground. I lovingly planted several varieties of perennials, watered them faithfully and watched them start to grow. Then came the rabbits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have always had annuals in pots around my house, and love petunias and marigolds for their bright cheerful faces and long, low-maintenance lives. I've never had anything bother them before. This year, due (I'm assuming) mostly to the problems with the heat and drought, and partially because of the brush piles in the empty lot next to us (thanks a lot, Jordan) the rabbits have decided that my flowers have been planted for them as a kind of renewable salad bar. The poor critters have no other food source than my flowers, and I'm getting &lt;del&gt;a little peeved&lt;/del&gt; royally pissed off about it! They especially enjoy petunias, with a side of marigolds, and various perennials for dessert.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have sprayed Liquid Fence, a product that smells like burnt rotten eggs. They seem to enjoy it as an appetizer. I have tried the human hair idea, and I think they are busy making party wigs from it. I have tried cayenne pepper, but must have Mexican bunnies because they like that, too. I am not allowed to shoot them, because we live in a close neighborhood populated with lots of tricycle motors. I am not really willing to fence them out, as the gardens in question are located in the front yard, and the fencing required would be unsightly. I have not tried to trap them yet, as I am not sure what I would do with the bodies from a kill trap, and not sure how I would create dead rabbits from a live trap. The only thing that has worked to some degree so far is moth balls, however they melt when I water or when it rains. It was suggested to me that I feed and water them somewhere away from the flowers. The theory is that if they have acceptable food to eat, they will stay away from my flowers. I think this will be my next course of action. Rather than trying to repel them, I will distract them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm having a hard time with the fact that I am probably going to have to learn to peacefully coexist with the rabbits. I went through this earlier this spring with the crows that moved into our back yard. Apparently crow mothers stay with their eggs until they are hatched and the baby birds are able to fly. They are fed by other members of the family during this time. These other members of the family decided that our birdbath (also known as the "birdie hottub")would be a good place to store mama bird's food. So I would go out and find it full of dead chicken parts courtesy of the chicken farm 1/2 mile away. Yummy! We discovered, however, that if we keep the birdie hottub empty (sorry, birdies) the crows won't store their food there. I've learned to coexist with them, although they still yell at me for being in the back yard. They don't understand that it is &lt;em&gt;my&lt;/em&gt; yard, but they don't bother me past the yelling. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Hopefully I will learn to coexist with the bunnies, too. Suggestions are welcome. Either that, or I am going to give all the perennials to my mom and plant shrubs and things that they don't eat, and not worry about it. If gardening is going to be this stressful, I don't think it's worth it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115455135439395917?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115455135439395917/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115455135439395917' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115455135439395917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115455135439395917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/08/love-flowers-hate-rabbits.html' title='Love Flowers, Hate Rabbits'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115446161079074124</id><published>2006-08-01T14:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-03T22:04:29.846-05:00</updated><title type='text'>8 Years and Counting!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/hands.4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/200/hands.1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;Today I am proud to announce that my husband and I are celebrating our 8th anniversary as a couple. We were introduced in the summer of 1998 by a mutual friend, and our relationship quickly evolved from friends to something more, and as that evolution doesn't happen overnight, we (okay, I) chose August 1 as a date to celebrate our relationship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our relationship has not been without strife or conflict. We did not exactly survive my moving 1229 miles away for a job not quite 2 years into our relationship. While I was 1229 miles away, my husband (then boyfriend) suffered a major medical emergency. While he was suffering, I had met someone else, with whom I wanted to attempt a relationship, so I broke up with him, breaking his heart in the process. (I know, I know, I deserve to be stoned.) The job and the new relationship both backfired, so I moved home - tired, broke, and unemployed. I was welcomed back into his arms and his heart in the middle of a good ol' northern blizzard, and we've been a couple again since then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We moved in together at the three-year mark. We suffered through a misunderstanding of the definition of fidelity, and bought a house at the five-year mark. Three days after we signed on our house, he was laid off, and we struggled through the financial nightmare that ensued. February 22, 2004, he proposed. We were married in September 2004, after six years together. Since that day, we have both had the normal "What have I done!?!" regrets and have struggled through another miscommunication about the definition of fidelity. We made the decision at 7 1/2 years of togetherness and 1 1/2 years of marriage to try for children. (Prayers are welcome!) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Upon reflecting on the last eight years, I have come to the conclusion that it was all worth it. The happy memories outweigh the sad ones 10 to 1. We are more in love now than we have ever been. I am incredibly thankful to have such a generous, loving, cooperative, handsome, respectful, ambitious, cuddly, enthusiastic, gentle, sexy, talented, honorable, romantic, understanding, Godly, courageous, kind, desirable, forgiving, thoughtful, delightful, caring, fun, chivalrous, warm, yummy country boy in my life. Thanks be to God!&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/30745991-115446161079074124?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115446161079074124/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115446161079074124' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115446161079074124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115446161079074124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/08/8-years-and-counting_01.html' title='8 Years and Counting!'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115437212209913199</id><published>2006-07-31T13:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-03T11:12:07.413-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Price is Paid</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Jesus suffered and died for us. We didn't ask Him to, and we might not appreciate it, but that doesn't change the fact that it happened. This story helps it hit home. Thanks, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://forhesoloved.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Jenn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;There was a certain Professor of Religion named Dr Christianson, a studious man who taught at a small college in the western United States. Dr.Christianson taught the required survey course in Christianity at this particular institution. Every student was required to take this course his or her freshman year, regardless of his or her major.&lt;br /&gt;Although Dr Christianson tried hard to communicate the essence of the gospel in his class, he found that most of his students looked upon the course as nothing but required drudgery. Despite his best efforts, most students refused to take Christianity seriously.&lt;br /&gt;This year, Dr. Christianson had a special student named Steve. Steve was only a freshman, but was studying with the intent of going onto seminary for the ministry. Steve was popular, he was well liked, and he was an imposing physical specimen. He was now the starting center on the school football team, and was the best student in the professor's class.&lt;br /&gt;One day, Dr. Christianson asked Steve to stay after class so he could talk with him. "How many push-ups can you do?"&lt;br /&gt;Steve said, "I do about 200 every night."&lt;br /&gt;"200? That's pretty good, Steve," Dr. Christianson said. "Do you think you could do 300?"&lt;br /&gt;Steve replied, "I don't know.... I've never done 300 at a time."&lt;br /&gt;"Do you think you could?" again asked Dr. Christianson.&lt;br /&gt;"Well, I can try," said Steve.&lt;br /&gt;"Can you do 300 in sets of 10? I have a class project in mind and I need you to do about 300 push-ups in sets of ten for this to work. Can you do it? I need you to tell me you can do it," said the professor.&lt;br /&gt;Steve said, "Well... I think I can...yeah, I can do it"&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Christianson said, "Good! I need you to do this on Friday. Let me explain what I have in mind."&lt;br /&gt;Friday came and Steve got to class early and sat in the front of the room. When class started, the professor pulled out a big box of donuts. No, these weren't the normal kinds of donuts, they were the extra fancy BIG kind, with cream centers and frosting swirls. Everyone was pretty excited it was Friday, the last class of the day, and they were going to get an early start on the weekend with a party in Dr. Christianson'sclass.&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Christianson went to the first girl in the first row and asked, "Cynthia, do you want to have one of these donuts?"&lt;br /&gt;Cynthia said, "Yes."&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Christianson then turned to Steve and asked, "Steve, would you do ten push-ups so that Cynthia can have a donut?"&lt;br /&gt;"Sure." Steve jumped down from his desk to do a quick ten. Then Steve again sat in his desk. Dr. Christianson put a donut on Cynthia's desk.&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Christianson then went to Joe, the next person, and asked, "Joe, do you want a donut?"&lt;br /&gt;Joe said, "Yes." Dr. Christianson asked, "Steve would you do ten push-ups so Joe can have a donut?"&lt;br /&gt;Steve did ten push-ups, ! Joe got a donut. And so it went, down the first aisle, Steve did ten pushups for every person before they got their donut.&lt;br /&gt;Walking down the second aisle, Dr. Christianson came to Scott. Scott was on the basketball team, and in as good condition as Steve. He was very popular and never lacking for female companionship.&lt;br /&gt;When the professor asked, "Scott do you want a donut?"&lt;br /&gt;Scott's reply was, "Well, can I do my own pushups?"&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Christianson said, "No, Steve has to do them."&lt;br /&gt;Then Scott said, "Well, I don't want one then."&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Christianson shrugged and then turned to Steve and asked, "Steve, would you do ten pushups so Scott can have a donut he doesn't want?"&lt;br /&gt;With perfect obedience Steve started to do ten pushups.&lt;br /&gt;Scott said, "HEY! I said I didn't want one!"&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Christianson said, "Look!, this is my classroom, my class, my desks, and these are my donuts. Just leave it on the desk if you don't want it." And he put a donut on Scott's desk.&lt;br /&gt;Now by this time, Steve had begun to slow down a little. He just stayed on the floor between sets because it took too much effort to be getting up and down. You could start to see a little perspiration coming out around his brow.&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Christianson started down the third row. Now the students were beginning to get a little angry. Dr. Christianson asked Jenny, "Jenny, do you want a donut?"&lt;br /&gt;Sternly, Jenny said, "No."&lt;br /&gt;Then Dr. Christianson asked Steve, "Steve, would you do ten more push-ups so Jenny can have a donut that she doesn't want?"&lt;br /&gt;Steve did ten....Jenny got a donut.&lt;br /&gt;By now, a growing sense of uneasiness filled the room. The students were beginning to say "No" and there were all these uneaten donuts on the desks.&lt;br /&gt;Steve also had to really put forth a lot of extra effort to get these pushups done! for each donut. There began to be a small pool of sweat on the floor beneath his face, his arms and brow were beginning to get red because of the physical effort involved.&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Christianson asked Robert, who was the most vocal unbeliever in the class, to watch Steve do each push up to make sure he did the full ten pushups in a set because he couldn't bear to watch all of Steve's work for all of those uneaten donuts. He sent Robert over to where Steve was so Robert could count the set and watch Steve closely.&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Christianson started down the fourth row. During his class, however, some students from other classes had wandered in and sat down on the steps along the radiators that ran down the sides of the room. When the professor realized this, he did a quick count and saw that now there were 34 students in the room. He started to worry if Steve would be able to make it.&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Christianson went on to the next person and the next and the next. Near the end of that row, Steve was really having a rough time. He was taking a lot more time to complete each set.&lt;br /&gt;Steve asked Dr Christianson, "Do I have to make my nose touch on each one?"&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Christianson thought for a moment, "Well, they're your pushups. You are in charge now. You can do them any way that you want." And Dr. Christianson went on.&lt;br /&gt;A few moments later, Jason, a recent transfer student, came to the room and was about to come in when all the students yelled in one voice, "NO! Don't come in! Stay out!"&lt;br /&gt;Jason didn't know what was going on. Steve picked up his head and said, "No, let him come."&lt;br /&gt;Professor Christianson said, "You realize that if Jason comes in you will have to do ten pushups for him?"&lt;br /&gt;Steve said, "Yes, let him come in. Give him a donut"&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Christianson said, "Okay, Steve, I'll let you get Jason's out of the way right now. Jason, do you! want a donut?"&lt;br /&gt;Jason, new to the room, hardly knew what was go going on. "Yes," he said, "give me a donut."&lt;br /&gt;"Steve, will you do ten push-ups so that Jason can have a donut?"&lt;br /&gt;Steve did ten pushups very slowly and with great effort. Jason, bewildered, was handed a donut and sat down.&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Christianson finished the fourth row, and then started on those visitors seated by the heaters. Steve's arms were now shaking with each push-up in a struggle to lift himself against the force of gravity. By this time sweat was profusely dropping off of his face, there was no sound except his heavy breathing; there was not a dry eye in the room.&lt;br /&gt;The very last two students in the room were two young women, both cheerleaders, and very popular. Dr. Christianson went to Linda, the second to last, and asked, "Linda, do you want a doughnut?"&lt;br /&gt;Linda said, very sadly, "No, thank you."&lt;br /&gt;Professor Christianson quietly asked, "Steve, would you do ten push-ups so that Linda can have a donut she doesn't want?"&lt;br /&gt;Grunting from the effort, Steve did ten very slow pushups for Linda.&lt;br /&gt;Then Dr Christianson turned to the last girl, Susan. "Susan, do you want a donut?&lt;br /&gt;Susan, with tears flowing down her face, began to cry. "Dr. Christianson, why can't I help him?"&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Christianson, with tears of his own, said, "No, Steve has to do it alone, I have given him this task and he is in charge of seeing that everyone has an opportunity for a donut whether they want it or not. When I decided to have a party this last day of class, I looked at my grade book. Steve here is the only student with a perfect grade. Everyone else has failed a test, skipped class, or offered me inferior work. Steve told me that in football practice, when a player messes up he must do push-ups. I told Steve that none of you could come to my party unless he paid the price by doing your push ups. He and I made a deal for your sakes."&lt;br /&gt;Steve, would you do ten push-ups so Susan can have a donut?"&lt;br /&gt;As Steve very slowly finished his last pushup, with the understanding that he had accomplished all that was required of him, having done 350 pushups, his arms buckled beneath him and he fell to the floor.&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Christianson turned to the room and said. "And so it was, that our Savior, Jesus Christ, on the cross, plead to the Father, 'into thy hands I commend my spirit.' With the understanding that He had done everything that was required of Him, He yielded up His life. And like some of those in this room, many of us leave the gift on the desk, uneaten."&lt;br /&gt;Two students helped Steve up off the floor and to a seat, physically exhausted, but wearing a thin smile.&lt;br /&gt;"Well done, good and faithful servant," said the professor, adding "Not all sermons are preached in words."&lt;br /&gt;Turning to his class, the professor said, "My wish is that you might understand and fully comprehend all the riches of grace and mercy that have been given to you through the sacrifice of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. He spared not only His Begotten Son, but gave Him up for us all, for the whole Church, now and forever. Whether or not we choose to accept His gift to us, the price has been paid."&lt;br /&gt;"Wouldn't you be foolish and ungrateful to leave it lying on the desk?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115437212209913199?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115437212209913199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115437212209913199' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115437212209913199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115437212209913199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/07/price-is-paid.html' title='The Price is Paid'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115402929702692890</id><published>2006-07-28T23:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-28T11:35:41.616-05:00</updated><title type='text'>New Look!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/sgm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/200/san%20gabriel%20mts.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;Let me know what you think of the new look! Be sure to check out the scroll at the bottom of the page for some of my favorite quotes!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;~Amaranth&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115402929702692890?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115402929702692890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115402929702692890' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115402929702692890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115402929702692890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/07/new-look.html' title='New Look!'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115411699310767190</id><published>2006-07-28T16:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-03T11:13:49.600-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Feeling Kinda Wonky</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Wonky is a work I learned recently, and it suits me today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm in a weird kind of funk. I'm feeling very apathetic, depressed, lethargic. I don't feel like doing anything, thinking about anything, talking to anyone. I hate days like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a teenager, I was prone to wonky days. I come from a divorced family, of which I was the only child. My father remarried and had two children. My mother (whom I lived with) remarried a man who already had 5 children, 2 of which were still at home, and proceeded to have one more girl, B. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;At first, we were a family. We had fun. I treasure memories of us sitting in the kitchen and singing while my step-father played the guitar. We went on vacations and had fun. We laughed, and talked, and loved like a normal family. This lasted for less than a year before things changed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;True identities surfaced. My step father was very controlling, selfish, and immature. My mother quit her job to stay home with us kids. At that point she seemed to become less of a person to him. He would not allow my mother to visit her friends, always made her ask for money, and was very verbally and emotionally abusive to her. People were not allowed to come to the house. Dinner was to be served at precisely the right time, or a tantrum would ensue. He took no part in raising the children, and was not to be bothered with their problems. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;His daughter had not been disciplined her entire life before we came. I'm not exaggerating, either; her mother was sick with cancer, and wouldn't stand to see her little girl upset. Therefore, she ruled the roost, and was not happy losing her position to my mother and I. She was even more unhappy when B came along. She did her best to get my mother to leave, but my mother is known for her stubbornness (a trait I inherited) and wasn't going to be budged. My mother was not allowed to discipline her, which created more tension between her and my step-father, with his daughter being the center of it all. Full scale war ensued between them for the next 9 years, with my step sister running away, in and out of foster care, quitting school, and getting pregnant. Combine that with the immature selfishness of my step-father and you don't get a real happy home. The two plusses were the 2 littler kids, who were surprisingly cheerful and well adjusted. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;As the oldest child, and least difficult, I was ignored. Not on purpose, but I just didn't require as much attention as the rest, and by the time it was my turn, there was no attention left to give. I spent most of my time at home either in my room with a book, or with my horse. I abhor confrontation, and in order to avoid being a part of the contstant battles, I hibernated. Atleast, that's what my mom calls it. I would go for a whole week without talking to anyone in my house. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;I was very depressed, and vaguely suicidal. My life consisted of mostly wonky days. I started skipping school, lying, stealing. I dabbled in self-mutilation, with scars on my arms to prove it. I was too shy to be in with the party crowd at school, but probably would have been into alcohol, drugs, and sex if not for the shyness. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Despite it all, I still pulled mostly straight A's in school. I've just always been one of those people to do well in academics. (I graduated from college with a 4.0 GPA.) However, by my senior year, I was bored with school, leaning more and more towards delinquincy, and was miserable with the constant war at home. I requested a transfer to a state university as a PSEO student where I would take college courses for HS credit. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;The school I requested transfer to was 150 miles from my home. There was a perfectly acceptable school in my town, but I wanted to get away. I was afraid that if I didn't do something, I'd really start getting into trouble or the depression would get to me. I was accepted, and my mother agreed, although it was hard for her to let me go. I think she understood some of the problems I was having, and that I would be better somewhere else. I feel a little guilty now about leaving her alone in the war, but at the time, I was thrilled to leave. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;So I moved. I lived with friends of the family, who were happy to have someone to dog-sit, as they were rarely home. It was great for me, because I basically lived alone. I did well in school, but had no friends. The depression lifted, and I started to become a real person again, instead of an empty shell simply going through the motions. The delinquincy faded, and I started to become the person I was meant to be. I think that my mother's decision to allow me to go saved my life. I'm not sure I would have survived another year in the hell that was home. Thanks, mom, for letting me go.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115411699310767190?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115411699310767190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115411699310767190' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115411699310767190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115411699310767190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/07/feeling-kinda-wonky.html' title='Feeling Kinda Wonky'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115406457051404625</id><published>2006-07-27T23:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-28T00:29:30.616-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Lookin' Out My Backdoor</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/IMG_1892.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/400/IMG_1892.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;...and even the sun shall praise Him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115406457051404625?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115406457051404625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115406457051404625' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115406457051404625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115406457051404625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/07/lookin-out-my-backdoor.html' title='Lookin&apos; Out My Backdoor'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115385846717490312</id><published>2006-07-25T15:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-25T15:14:27.183-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Gas Prices</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/glol_lg2.png"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/glol_lg2.png" 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/30745991-115385846717490312?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115385846717490312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115385846717490312' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115385846717490312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115385846717490312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/07/gas-prices.html' title='Gas Prices'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115379290690453634</id><published>2006-07-24T20:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-03T11:16:51.776-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Love Surprises!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/IMG_1700small.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/320/IMG_1700small.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt; I received this day lily plant from a friend who no longer had room for it. It was supposed to be a yellow Stella-de-Oro, the generic kind you see everywhere. It bloomed the other day, and I was pleasantly surprised to see this instead!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115379290690453634?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115379290690453634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115379290690453634' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115379290690453634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115379290690453634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/07/i-love-surprises.html' title='I Love Surprises!'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115379221835533485</id><published>2006-07-24T19:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-03T11:23:08.520-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Feel Free to Write Your Name in the Dust - Just Don't Date It.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;I am not domestic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not one of those women who gleans any sort of worth from domestic duties. I am a good cook when presented with a recipe (or directions on the box), and I am perfectly capable of scrubbing floors, and washing clothes. I even worked as a housekeeper once upon a time. The problem is that I hate doing such things. This is in strong contrast to my husband's family, which consists entirely of women who are stay-at-home moms and wives who live to care for their home and family. They like to cook and clean. They don't really understand or accept the fact that I don't. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Now, don't get the wrong impression. I keep my house clean, but I don't obsess over it. I usually have two reasons to really clean: My in-laws are coming over, or I'm mad at my husband. When he ticks me off, I vent by cleaning. We are two adults with no indoor pets and no children, who rarely spend more than a few hours a day in our home other than to sleep, so it's not like it gets really dirty. I clean really thoroughly about once a month. Okay, more like every six weeks. I am kind of anal about organization, so there is little clutter mess. I do laundry every Sunday night. I wipe things down as I see them. Yes, you will find dust on my windowsills. Yes, you will find crumbs on the kitchen floor. No, you will not find dirty plates under the couch, mold, bugs or other creatures. No, the bed is not always made, but that's not my fault, since I am not the last one to get out of it. However, I refuse to scrub floors, which is okay, since my husband refuses to scrub toilets. We compromise and he does floors and I do toilets. I figure that I have the better deal, since we only have 2 toilets, but a lot of floor!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband has always maintained the stance that we should hang our clothes outside to dry. Our house came with a clothesline. (Thanks a lot, seller!) When we moved in three years ago, I took a load of sheets out to hang, and was attacked by the bluebirds that lived in the birdhouse attached to one of the clothesline poles. I never attempted to hang clothes out again, even though the birdhouse fell down in a storm. It's a lot of work, and I don't like crunchy clothes. Well, last night I come in from the garden to the sound of the washing machine running. This is very unusual, since my husband is not allowed to do laundry, due to frequent problems with shrinkage and color vs. white issues. He took the initiative and put in a load of his work clothes and informed me that he was hanging them outside and did we have any clothespins and would I show him how to hang them. Well we found clothespins and wiped off the lines and hung the clothes outside. I told him that I would hang things outside for a month and see how it goes. I am not planning to hang out things like socks and underwear, because that is just a waste of time, and I despise crunchy underthings. Today I called my friend MB, for information on drying outside. She has three children, the oldest of which is 2. They are all in cloth diapers. She knows a lot about laundry. She laughed when I told her I had never used fabric softener and told me what to buy and how it works. So I'm going to try this hanging thing and see how it goes. Let me know if you have any tips.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The best part about this whole thing is - the clothes that we hung on the line last night were already brought in and folded when I came home. Maybe this isn't such a bad idea after all!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;"...the only advantage of not being too good a housekeeper is that your guests are so pleased to feel how very much better they are."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;~Eleanor Roosevelt&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115379221835533485?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115379221835533485/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115379221835533485' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115379221835533485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115379221835533485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/07/feel-free-to-write-your-name-in-dust.html' title='Feel Free to Write Your Name in the Dust - Just Don&apos;t Date It.'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115377874281535307</id><published>2006-07-24T17:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-24T20:55:08.323-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Miss Universe</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/1600/crown.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1851/3303/200/crown.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;Last night, Miss Puerto Rico, 18 year old &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://missprunofficial.websiteanimal.com/welcome"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;Zuleyka Rivera&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt; was crowned MISS UNIVERSE 2006. The Miss Universe competition began in 1952 in Long Beach California. Since then, countless young women have dreamed of someday wearing the crown. The contestants are judged in three categories: Swimsuit, Evening Gown, and Interview. The pageant is broadcast on live television, gathering 600 million viewers in 180 countries. Eighty-six countries were represented in this year's competition. The 86 contestants range in age from 18 to 25, and most are relatively tall, with Tara Connor coming in among the shortest at 5'5". Of course, they are all slim and fit, with long hair and ample curves. These women are beautiful, fit, poised, clever, intelligent, stylish, and self-confident.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started this post with the idea that this competition was simply a way to reward those with lucky genes. That a select few judges were chosen (including former Dallas Cowboy Emmitt Smith - ?) to determine the standard of beauty. After reading more about the pageant, I am still not a staunch supporter, but they have received a shy, grudging, modicum of respect from me. It seems that Miss Universe spends their year wearing a $250,000 crown and working to see the end of the AIDS epidemic. (Maybe they should donate the proceeds of the sale of the crown to research.) Some of the previous winners have done very good things with their reign...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mpule Kwelagobe, MISS UNIVERSE 2000, created a not-for-profit foundation during her reign which funded and built a 400 bed pediatric AIDS hospital and orphanage in her native Botswana – one of the African nations hardest hit by the disease.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After earning her law degree, Wendy Fitzwilliam, MISS UNIVERSE 1998, Created the Hibiscus Foundation for children stricken by HIV/AIDS in her native Trinidad/Tobago, where there is a hospital wing named after her and dedicated to her work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Michelle McLean, MISS UNIVERSE 1992, established a charitable trust with her prize money to aid the children of her homeland, Namibia, and has worked the Dr. Christiaan Barnard to develop an international heart transplant foundation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I guess it isn't all bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115377874281535307?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115377874281535307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115377874281535307' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115377874281535307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115377874281535307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/07/miss-universe.html' title='Miss Universe'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115345369418354659</id><published>2006-07-21T12:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-21T12:53:42.973-05:00</updated><title type='text'>100 Things I Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"We know more about people when we know what they love than when we know what they think or profess to believe. And we learn a great deal about ourselves when we reflect on what we love." ~Gideon Strauss&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;100 Things I Love:&lt;br /&gt;1. Snowmen&lt;br /&gt;2. Fun, fancy paper&lt;br /&gt;3. Tinted moisturizer&lt;br /&gt;4. Push-up bras&lt;br /&gt;5. Cookies and milk&lt;br /&gt;6. Purple&lt;br /&gt;7. The smell of new hay&lt;br /&gt;8. Trees&lt;br /&gt;9. Slow, sweet lovemaking&lt;br /&gt;10. Books of all kinds&lt;br /&gt;11. The smell of little boys&lt;br /&gt;12. Equine Assisted Psychotherapy&lt;br /&gt;13. Jesus&lt;br /&gt;14. Sexy, strappy high heeled shoes&lt;br /&gt;15. Semi trucks&lt;br /&gt;16. Libraries and Bookstores&lt;br /&gt;17. Cotton candy&lt;br /&gt;18. Angelina Jolie&lt;br /&gt;19. Draft horses&lt;br /&gt;20. Dancing&lt;br /&gt;21. Being naked&lt;br /&gt;22. Cuddling with my husband&lt;br /&gt;23. Organizing&lt;br /&gt;24. Lazy days with nothing to do&lt;br /&gt;25. Those spring days that make you want to just drive until the road runs out&lt;br /&gt;26. Exploring new places&lt;br /&gt;27. Music that makes me tingle and gives me goosebumps&lt;br /&gt;28. That my husband finds me irresistable&lt;br /&gt;29. Naps&lt;br /&gt;30. Chocolate&lt;br /&gt;31. Flowers&lt;br /&gt;32. Josh Lucas's eyes&lt;br /&gt;33. Planting things and watching them grow&lt;br /&gt;34. Things that sparkle&lt;br /&gt;35. Church bells&lt;br /&gt;36. Solitude&lt;br /&gt;37. Jumping on the bed&lt;br /&gt;38. Old world dressage&lt;br /&gt;39. Loaded baked potatoes&lt;br /&gt;40. Buff geeks&lt;br /&gt;41. Singing along with the radio&lt;br /&gt;42. Anticipating Heaven&lt;br /&gt;43. Long, intelligent conversations&lt;br /&gt;44. People who are themselves - without apology&lt;br /&gt;45. Well played grand pianos&lt;br /&gt;46. Hugs&lt;br /&gt;47. Dressing up&lt;br /&gt;48. Holding hands&lt;br /&gt;49. The mystery of cats&lt;br /&gt;50. The first moment of getting into a sun-warmed car&lt;br /&gt;51. Thanksgiving dinner&lt;br /&gt;52. Sunset&lt;br /&gt;53. Men with accents&lt;br /&gt;54. The Whistling Bird Cafe&lt;br /&gt;55. Easter (the religious Easter, not the one with the bunny)&lt;br /&gt;56. Crayons&lt;br /&gt;57. Heartfelt prayer&lt;br /&gt;58. Old people holding hands&lt;br /&gt;59. Independance&lt;br /&gt;60. Crawling into bed with my warm, sleeping husband&lt;br /&gt;61. Croutons&lt;br /&gt;62. My mom's house&lt;br /&gt;63. Wide open spaces&lt;br /&gt;64. Spontaneity&lt;br /&gt;65. "Amazing Grace"&lt;br /&gt;66. Jewelry&lt;br /&gt;67.Vin Diesel in F&amp;amp;F and XXX&lt;br /&gt;68. Sharpies&lt;br /&gt;69. Apple blossoms&lt;br /&gt;70. Shopping without buying&lt;br /&gt;71. Decorating in bold colors&lt;br /&gt;72. That my husband understands and accepts my mood swings&lt;br /&gt;73. Diamonds&lt;br /&gt;74. Buying gifts for friends&lt;br /&gt;75. How female exotic dancers smell&lt;br /&gt;76. Fuzzy, comfy sweaters&lt;br /&gt;77. That my husband always drives&lt;br /&gt;78. Montana&lt;br /&gt;79. Mom's cooking&lt;br /&gt;80. Small towns&lt;br /&gt;81. Abandoned barns&lt;br /&gt;82. Bread&lt;br /&gt;83. Front porches&lt;br /&gt;84. Lightning&lt;br /&gt;85. Silence&lt;br /&gt;86. Being held&lt;br /&gt;87. Tortoises&lt;br /&gt;88. My wedding dress&lt;br /&gt;89. That my mom is one of my best friends&lt;br /&gt;90. Bagpipes&lt;br /&gt;91. Crying over movies, books, music, news, etc.&lt;br /&gt;92. Being around people who don't try so hard to be beautiful - they just are&lt;br /&gt;93. Dictionaries&lt;br /&gt;94. Quotes&lt;br /&gt;95. Midnight&lt;br /&gt;96. Being a woman&lt;br /&gt;97. Sidney - my stuffed lion&lt;br /&gt;98. Learning, thinking, analyzing, discussing, debating, etc.&lt;br /&gt;99. Knowing that I am loved&lt;br /&gt;100. Lists&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115345369418354659?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115345369418354659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115345369418354659' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115345369418354659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115345369418354659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/07/100-things-i-love.html' title='100 Things I Love'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115336796926073337</id><published>2006-07-20T15:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-03T14:02:16.006-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sexual Harassment vs. Dating Culture</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Yesterday, I watched "North Country" with Charlize Theron. I found it to be a very powerful movie about sexual harassment and the trials of life as a single mother. Theron was superb. It gives an astonishingly accurate portrayal of what goes on when women work in "men's jobs." Things are, of course, much better in today's workforce, however, I believe that sexual harassment exists just as much, only it's more subtle and more disguised now. As much as I am against sexual harassment in the workplace, I am just as against it in public. Parts of the movie reminded me of some friends of ours, who are active participants in the dating scene, and some of their more unappealing traits. (Unappealing to me anyhow.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;This past weekend I had the "privilage" of going on a 900 mile motorcycle trip with my huband and two friends. After the first few hours, I was ready to ditch the friends. These friends are both divorced men in their 40's. They find it necessary to critique, discuss, and hit on every female between the ages of 20 and 55 that crosses their line of sight. I was appalled at their behavior, and extremely glad I was not on the receiving end. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;They stared very unabashedly at women, often making a scene out of getting a better view. They would make comments on a woman's age, weight, figure, hair color, clothing, or anything else, well within hearing distance of the subject. They would often discuss how a woman's "attributes" would best serve them in bed. They would often rudely interrupt a woman's conversation to interject their pick-up lines, which usually contained off-color remarks. I saw one of them once give a woman a "spontaneous" hug, no doubt copping a feel in the process. I mentioned to them that they might have better luck if they toned it down from stalking to friendly conversation. The response I got was, "They like it. They wouldn't be here if they weren't looking for action." This particular line was delivered at a scenic overlook on the side of the road. Where everyone goes when they are looking for action. I wanted to point out the elderly couple with the camper, and the family with 8 kids in a minivan (yes 8!) but figured that they wouldn't really see my point. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;It made me uncomfortable to &lt;em&gt;witness &lt;/em&gt;their behavior, much less be the &lt;em&gt;target&lt;/em&gt; of it. Is this how the dating game is played? Is this behavior common and accepted, or am I just a prude? Would this bother other women? Am I the only one who thinks of it as bordering on harassment? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;I met my husband the summer after my high school graduation. We were married six years later. He is pretty much the only person I have ever dated. If this is how the dating world is...then I am VERY glad not to participate. I can only hope that my 14 year old sister, her friends, our nieces, and any daughters we may have can know that they do not have to tolerate behavior like that from any man - in the workplace, or in the dating scene.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115336796926073337?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115336796926073337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115336796926073337' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115336796926073337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115336796926073337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/07/sexual-harassment-vs-dating-culture.html' title='Sexual Harassment vs. Dating Culture'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115333148864748728</id><published>2006-07-19T12:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-19T12:51:28.690-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 2 Post-LASIK</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can see - sort of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My peripheral vision is blurry and my close-up vision is blurry, but I'm told that this is because they over-corrected me, on purpose, as you lose some of the correction in the healing process. My doctor was very surprised at how well I was doing, and is confident that I will reach 20/20 after a couple weeks. I'm also getting minor headaches from the blurryness, but nothing Tylenol can't kick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The procedure was a little scary, or "freaky" as my sister put it, but it wasn't too bad. It did not really hurt, but at one point I could smell burning flesh as they were vaporizing layers of my cornea (always encouraging), and my left eye was kind of uncomfortable just because the speculum to hold the eye open didn't fit right, and the vacuum deal that they use pinched my eye, making it feel like it was being squeezed, but it wasn't intolerable. They gave me a teddy bear to hold on to, which was a nice touch. The entire procedure lasted about 35 minutes, longer than normal because of my high correction. My husband was able to watch the view through the microscope, as they patch it into the waiting room TV. I'd have liked to see it before I had it done, just to know what to expect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have two different prescription eye drops to use 4 times daily for the next two weeks, one of which insists on leaking down my tear ducts into my throat, and tastes nasty. I also have to use artificial tears. I'm getting very good at administering the drops, and don't really mind it, other than the bad taste.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all, I'm happy with the way things went. I'm excited for things to start clearing up a little more, and to see where I ultimately end up. I do have enough tissue left to do an "enhancement" if necessary, or I might need glasses, but only time will tell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People see only what they are prepared to see.&lt;br /&gt;~Ralph Waldo Emerson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115333148864748728?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115333148864748728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115333148864748728' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115333148864748728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115333148864748728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/07/day-2-post-lasik_19.html' title='Day 2 Post-LASIK'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115323715429694232</id><published>2006-07-18T10:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-03T11:32:50.106-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Gift of Vision!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;Yesterday, I had LASIK eye surgery. Today I am typing without glasses! Woo Hoo! Before my surgery, I needed glasses to survive. Without them the world was a haze of light and dark, with occasional color thrown in. The only things that were defined were things that were less then 3" from my nose. I routinely left nose prints on the mirror while doing my makeup. Now I can see the alarm clock in the morning without getting out of bed! I am seeing myself without glasses for the first time since I was 7 years old. That's been kind of strange. Through my glasses, my eyes looked kind of small, but now without them, my eyes look enormous in my face! I'm still getting used to the "new me." Every now and then I still reach up to adjust my glasses, and laugh when they aren't there. My close-up vision isn't quite stable yet, but it will continue to improve over the next few days, and I still may need glasses, but atleast they won't be 1/2 inch thick! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;It's amazing to think of how advanced we have become. A few hundred years ago, I would have long ago been eaten by something, because of my eyesight. Today, one can have 20/20 vision in 20 minutes. Amazing! I wonder where we will be in another few hundred years?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115323715429694232?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115323715429694232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115323715429694232' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115323715429694232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115323715429694232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/07/gift-of-vision.html' title='The Gift of Vision!'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115264972099547516</id><published>2006-07-12T08:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-21T12:55:24.166-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;"Abundance is not something we acquire, it is something we tune into." ~Wayne Dyer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115264972099547516?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115264972099547516/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115264972099547516' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115264972099547516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115264972099547516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/07/abundance-is-not-something-we-acquire.html' title=''/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115264615027261397</id><published>2006-07-11T14:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-03T11:36:49.706-05:00</updated><title type='text'>He Who Dies With the Most Toys Wins?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"A little simplification would be the first step toward rational living, I think." ~Eleanor Roosevelt - January 22,1936&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;At his death, Gandhi owned 16 worldly possessions:&lt;br /&gt;1 robe &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;1 mala bead for prayer &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;1 pair of sandals &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;1 blanket &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;1 pen &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;1 bent safety pin &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;1 metal bowl to pour water &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;1 fork &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;1 bowl &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;1 spoon &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;1 lantern &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;1 water bottle &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;1 cloth napkin &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;1 length of rope &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;1 ink well &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;1 spinning wheel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This list really struck me. I have a great desire to simplify and de-clutter my life, yet I remain caught in the clutches of our materialistic American culture. What is it about our culture that promotes this excessive materialism? Why do we need to have so much stuff? When did “stuff” become a status symbol? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine how freeing it would be if we could get by with 16 things. We wouldn’t have to worry about working so much, because we wouldn’t need so much money to buy so much stuff. We’d have more time to spend with our families, because we wouldn’t have to be caring for our stuff. We’d be free to go wherever we choose, because we wouldn’t have all that stuff to drag along. We wouldn’t fear for the safety of our few things, because who would steal such stuff? We could share more of our money with the poor and needy, as we wouldn’t need to buy so much stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What hole are we trying to fill with all of these possessions? We keep buying and buying, to what end? I believe that if we were closer to God, as Gandhi was, we would come to realize that we don’t need anything but the peace and love and joy that comes from knowing God. I think our frantic collection of stuff is merely at attempt to fill the God shaped hole in our lives that appears when we do not know Him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like me, I’m sure most of you don’t think twice about buying a new shirt, or a new CD, or some cool new gizmo. Yet we see people on the streets every day who, for whatever reason, don’t have money to buy lunch. When they ask us if we have anything to spare, we say no. Isn’t that a lie? Most of us have more than enough, yet we are driven to have still more. Think about how you spend your money, and ask yourself, “What would Jesus buy?” I think you will start to realize that we don’t need all this stuff. What we need is to reach out to those around us, live more simply, and fill our lives instead with the things that matter. Will it really matter how much stuff you have when you die? In the end, all we need is Jesus.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115264615027261397?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115264615027261397/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115264615027261397' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115264615027261397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115264615027261397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/07/he-who-dies-with-most-toys-wins.html' title='He Who Dies With the Most Toys Wins?'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115231464970199859</id><published>2006-07-07T18:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-07T18:25:17.746-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Objective: New Job!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;“Normal is getting dressed in clothes that you buy for work and driving through traffic in a car you are still paying for – in order to get to the job you need to pay for the clothes and the car and the house you leave vacant all day so you can afford to live in it.”&lt;br /&gt;~ Ellen Goodman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am looking for a new job. I have recently graduated with a 4.0 GPA from a technical program in a field that mostly suits me. As I was in school, I accepted a part time job in my field that became full time upon graduation. Perfect! Except that the position I am in should not be a full time position, as there is not enough work to do to stay busy for 40 hours a week. Bummer. Unfortunately, I am not allowed to leave early, or take extra-long lunch breaks, therefore I am resigned to warming my chair for about 25 meaningless hours a week, surfing the internet, reading blogs, chatting with coworkers, and listening to the radio. Keep in mind that I get paid for this! The 15 hours of work there is per week isn’t bad, and I kind of enjoy it, and the people I work with aren't all that bad. However, what sounds like an ideal occupational existence is becoming overwhelmingly draining on my spirit. &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;The company I work for does not care about its employees, despite all of its claims to the contrary. They do not answer questions or address concerns. They are rarely available for such matters, anyhow. My immediate superior does not know anything about how the company is run: policies, procedures, etc. He is always out of the office, and inaccessible, yet I’m to bring all concerns and questions to him first. I’ve tried overstepping the chain of command, and have gotten reprimanded. The working conditions are poor, with little help in the way of ergonomic office equipment, updated technology, proper lighting, etc. My "office" was originally designed to be a closet. And to top it off, they don't recycle, which in this day in age is ridiculous. Good grief! &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 keep thinking that I did not spend the last two years in school working towards this field just to hold down a chair for forty hours a week. Some people might like that, but life is too short to waste it doing nothing. However, I am hesitating a little. There are two things holding me up: I hate to bounce around from job to job, and my husband and I have made the decision to attempt to get pregnant. If we are blessed with a baby, I would become a stay-at-home-mom. Why bother going through all the hassle of finding a new job when I will just be leaving the workforce anyhow? At the same time, like I said, life’s too short. I don’t want to waste my time here, when I could get some good months in somewhere else. Besides, who knows how long it will take to get pregnant. Could be years, so I might as well find something that suits me a little better. &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'd like to find something that can keep me busy, challenge me, allow me the freedom to (mostly) do things my way, while offering a little bit of mental stimulation in a friendly, family-oriented atmosphere in a well-managed, ethical company. Nah, I'm not picky! So, I guess it’s resumes and cover letters and classifieds for me! * sigh * At least it will give me something to do! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115231464970199859?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115231464970199859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115231464970199859' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115231464970199859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115231464970199859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/07/objective-new-job.html' title='Objective: New Job!'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30745991.post-115229620248415178</id><published>2006-07-07T13:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-07T13:16:42.500-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome to Sparkling Soul</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#993399;"&gt;I think that within each of us is a desire to be known. To have someone else in the world understand and validate our feelings. To feel that we are not alone in this great game of life. To have someone to lend an ear to our troubles, worries, rants, and stories. I think that sometimes it helps for that someone else to be anonymous, as it is easier to be truthful to a stranger for some reason, isn't it? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#993399;"&gt;I also think that within each of us is a desire to explore ourselves a little deeper, to discover what our beliefs are, and how strongly we stand for them. To be able to confidently express our opinions and ideas about things, because we have really taken the time to think about issues, not just accept the beliefs of the majority. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#993399;"&gt;At least that is my intention for this blog. I am hoping to discover a few like-minded folks out there, while exploring my feelings on some deeper subjects, and some shallower ones as well. : )&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#993399;"&gt;Another reason I am interested in this idea of blogging is that my husband and I are currently trying to conceive, (not right &lt;em&gt;now&lt;/em&gt;, but you  know what I mean) and I feel that I’d be a better parent if I was more sure of myself, and that the resulting child might someday be interested to know what his (or her) momma was really like. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#993399;"&gt;Ok, and I suffer from a terrible case of cubicle boredom…so I hope this will help pass the time as I am required to warm my chair for forty hours a week!! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;Let me know who you are, and why &lt;strong&gt;you&lt;/strong&gt; blog!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30745991-115229620248415178?l=sparklingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/115229620248415178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30745991&amp;postID=115229620248415178' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115229620248415178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30745991/posts/default/115229620248415178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sparklingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/07/welcome-to-sparkling-soul.html' title='Welcome to Sparkling Soul'/><author><name>Tina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__Ti7OckJXck/TNy7xwUU63I/AAAAAAAAAxk/oL4YYL0RWNw/S220/8x10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
